Crazy Radio eBooks

Artois drew out a cigar, lit it slowly, then got up, and began to move
out among the tables.
The priest looked after him, spoke rapidly to his companions, and
burst into a throaty laugh which was loudly echoed.
"Maria Fortunata is in luck to-night!" said some one.
Then the band began again, the waiter came with more ices, and the
tall, long-bearded forestiere was forgotten.
Without glancing at the woman, Artois strolled slowly on. Many people
looked at him, but none spoke to him, for he was known now, as each
stranger who stays long in Naples is known, summed up, labelled, and
either ignored or pestered. The touts and the ruffiani were aware that
it was no use to pester the Frenchman, and even the decrepit and
indescribably seedy old men who hover before the huge plate-glass
windows of the photograph shops, or linger near the entrance to the
cinematograph, never peeped at him out of the corners of their
bloodshot eyes or whispered a word of the white slaves in his ear.


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