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And she, too, was quite at her ease. The direct, and
desirous, glances of the Marchesino did not upset her innocent self-
possession at all, although they began to upset the self-possession of
Artois. As he sat, generally in silence, listening to the frivolous and
cheerful chatter that never stopped, while the launch cut its way
through the solemn, steel-like sea towards the lights of Posilipo. He
felt that he was apart because he was clever, as if his cleverness
caused loneliness.
They travelled fast. Soon the prow of the launch was directed to a
darkness that lay below, and to the right of a line of brilliant lights
that shone close to the sea; and a boy dressed in white, holding a
swinging lantern, and standing, like a statue, in a small niche of rock
almost flush with the water, hailed them, caught the gunwale of the
launch with one hand, and brought it close in to the wall that towered
above them.
"Do we get out here? But where do we go?" said Hermione.
"There is a staircase.


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