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Let us do as he says. Let us rest in the--
what is the pool?" he asked of the fishermen, pretending not to know
the name.
"The pool of San Francesco, Signorino Marchesino."
"Pool of San Francesco. I remember now. That is the place where all
the fishermen along the coast towards Nisida go to sleep. I have slept
there many times when I was a boy, and so has Viviano. To-night shall
we do as the fishermen, Emilio?"
There was no pressure in his careless voice. His eyes for the moment
looked so simple, though as eager as a child's.
"Anything you like, mon ami," said Artois.
He did not want to go to San Francesco's Pool with the Marchesino, but
he did not wish to seem reluctant to go. And he said to himself now
that his interior hesitation was absurd. Night had fallen. By the time
they reached the Pool the inmates of the Case del Mare would probably
be asleep. Even if they were not, what did it matter? The boat would
lie among the vessels of the fishermen. The Marchesino and he would
share the fishermen's repose.


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