"Here"s your ticket for the enclosure," he said, giving one to the Marchesino.
"Grazie. But we must walk about. We must show the ladies the fun in the Mercato. It is very dull to stay all the evening in the enclosure."
"We will do whatever they like, of course."
"Keep close to the other carriage! Do you hear?" roared the Marchesino to the coachman.
The man jerked his head, cracked his whip, pulled at his horse"s mouth.
They shot forward at a tremendous pace, keeping close by the sea at first, then turning to the left up the hill towards the Piazza del Plebiscito. The Marchesino crossed his legs, folded his arms, and instinctively a.s.sumed the devil-may-care look characteristic of the young Neapolitan when driving through his city.
"Emilio," he said, after a moment, looking at Artois out of the corners of his eyes without moving his head, "when I was at the island the other day, do you know whom I saw in the house?"
"No."
"A girl of the town. A bad girl. You understand?"
"Do you mean a girl with a wounded cheek?"
"Yes. How can the Signora have her there?"
"The Signora knows all about her," said Artois, dryly.
"She thinks so!"
"What do you mean?"
"If the Signora really knew, could she take such a girl to live with the Signorina?"
The conversation was rapidly becoming insupportable to Artois.
"This is not our affair," he said.
"I do not say it is. But still, as I am a Neapolitan, I think it a pity that some one does not explain to the Signora how impossible--"
"Caro mio!" Artois exclaimed, unable to endure his companion"s obvious inclination to pose as a protector of Vere"s innocence. "English ladies do not care to be governed. They are not like your charming women. They are independent and do as they choose. You had much better not bother your head about what happens on the island. Very soon the Signora may be leaving it and going away from Naples."
"Davvero?"
The Marchesino turned right round in the little carriage, forgetting his pose.
"Davvero? No. I don"t believe it. You play with me. You wish to frighten me."
"To frighten you! I don"t understand what you mean. What can it matter to you? You scarcely know these ladies."
The Marchesino pursed his lips together. But he only said, "Si, si."
He did not mean to quarrel with Emilio yet. To do so might complicate matters with the ladies.
As they entered the Via del Popolo, and drew near to the Piazza di Masaniello, his excitement increased, stirred by the sight of the crowds of people, who were all streaming in the same direction past the iron rails of the port, beyond which, above the long and ghostly sheds that skirt the sea, rose the tapering masts of vessels lying at anchor.
Plans buzzed in his head. He called upon all his shrewdness, all his trickiness of the South. He had little doubt of his capacity to out-manoeuvre Emilio and the Signora. And if the Signorina were favorable to him, he believed that he might even get the better of Gaspare, in whom he divined a watchful hostility. But would the Signorina help him? He could not tell. How can one ever tell what a girl will do at a given moment?
With a jerk the carriage drew up beneath the walls of the prison that frowns upon the Piazza di Masaniello, and the Marchesino roused himself to the battle and sprang out. The hum of the great crowd already a.s.sembled, the brilliance of the illuminations that lit up the houses, Nuvolo"s tower, the facade of the Church of the Carmine, and the adjoining monastery, the loud music of the band that was stationed in the Kiosk before the enclosure, stirred his young blood. As he went quickly to help Hermione and Vere, he shot a glance almost of contempt at the gray hairs of Emilio, who was getting out of the carriage slowly.
Artois saw the glance and understood it. For a moment he stood still.
Then he paid the coachman and moved on, encompa.s.sed by the ma.s.ses of people who were struggling gayly towards the centre of the square, intent upon seeing the big doll that was enthroned there dressed as Masaniello.
"We had better go into the enclosure. Don"t you think so?" he said to Hermione.
"If you like. I am ready for anything."
"We can walk about afterwards. Perhaps the crush will be less when the fire-balloon has gone up."
The Marchesino said nothing, and they gained the enclosure, where rows of little chairs stood on the short gra.s.s that edges the side of the prison that looks upon the Piazza. Gaspare, who on such occasions was full of energy and singularly adroit, found them good places in a moment.
"Ecco, Signora! Ecco, Signorina!"
"Madre, may I stand on my chair?"
"Of course, Signorina. Look! Others are standing!"
Gaspare helped his Padroncina up, then took his place beside her, and stood like a sentinel. Artois had never liked him better than at that moment. Hermione, who looked rather tired, sat down on her chair. The loud music of the band, the lines of fire that brought the discolored houses into sharp relief, and that showed her with a distinctness that was fanciful and lurid the moving faces of hundreds of strangers, the dull roar of voices, and the heat that flowed from the human bodies, seemed to mingle, to become concrete, to lie upon her spirit like a weight. Artois stood by her, leaning on his stick and watching the crowd with his steady eyes. The Marchesino was looking up at Vere, standing in a position that seemed to indicate a longing that she should rest her hand upon his shoulder.
"You will fall, Signorina!" he said. "Be careful. Let me--"
"I am quite safe."
But she dropped one hand to the shoulder of Gaspare.
The Marchesino moved, almost as if he were about to go away. Then he lit a cigarette and spoke to Hermione.
"You look tired, Signora. You feel the heat. It is much fresher outside, when one is walking. Here, under the prison walls, it is always like a furnace in summer. It is unwholesome. It puts one into a fever."
Hermione looked at him, and saw a red spot burning on each side of his face near his cheek-bones.
"Perhaps it would be better to walk," she said, doubtfully.
Her inclination was for movement, for her fatigue was combined with a sensation of great restlessness.
"What do you say, Vere?" she added.
"Oh, I should love to go among the people and see everything," she answered, eagerly.
The Marchesino"s brow cleared.
"Let us go, Emilio! You hear what the Signorina says."
"Very well," said Artois.
His voice was reluctant, even cold. Vere glanced at him quickly.