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The
radiance of the Bay, one of the most radiant of all the inlets of the
sea, bold and glaring in the brilliant daytime, becomes exquisitely
delicate towards night. Vesuvius, its fiery watcher, looks like a
kindly guardian, until perhaps the darkness shows the flame upon its
flanks, the flame bursting forth from the mouth it opens to the sky;
and the coast-line by Sorrento, the lifted crest of Capri, even the
hill of Posilipo, appear romantic and enticing, calling lands holding
wonderful pleasures for men, joys in their rocks and trees, joys in
their dim recesses, joys and soft realities fulfilling every dream
upon their coasts washed by the whispering waves.
The eyes of the Marchesino were dancing with physical pleasure. Artois
wondered how much he felt the beauty of the evening, and how. His
friend evidently saw the question in his eyes, for he said:
"The man who knows not Naples knows not pleasure."
"Is that a Neapolitan saying?" asked Artois.
"Yes, and it is true.


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