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Disregarding the
lift, he ran lightly down the stairs, made his way swiftly by the
revolving door into the street, crossed it, and walked towards the
harbor of Santa Lucia, where quantities of pleasure-boats lie waiting
for hire, and the boatmen are gathered in knots smoking and gossiping,
or are strolling singly up and down near the water's edge, keeping a
sharp look-out for possible customers.
As the Marchesino turned on the bridge that leads towards Castel dell'
Ovo one of these boatmen met him and saluted him.
"Good-day, Giuseppe," said the Marchesino, addressing him familiarly
with a broad Neapolitan accent.
"Good-day, Signorino Marchesino," replied the man. "Do you want a
boat? I will take you for--"
The Marchesino drew out his cigarette case.
"I don't want a boat. But perhaps you can tell me something."
"What is it, Signorino Marchesino?" said the man, looking eagerly at
the cigarette case which was now open, and which displayed two
tempting rows of fat Egyptian cigarettes reposing side by side.


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