And so they made their arrangements, and the next day—the day when Marcantonio was engaging the detectives in Rome—they went on board the "Florio" steamer and left Naples, and Sorrento, and Ischia, and all the countless reminiscences that attached to the glorious bay, and were carried up the coast.
"The dear place," said Leonora, looking astern as she sat in her arm-chair under the awning on deck, "I shall always love it."
"But you are glad to leave it, darling, are you not?" asked Batiscombe, who stood beside her, and was looking more at her than at the coast, though he held a glass in his hand.
It was a curious question to ask, one might have thought, and yet it was natural enough, and did not jar on Leonora's thoughts. She was not sensitive in that way in the least. She did not mind his referring to the past in any way he chose.
"Glad? Of course I am glad," she answered, looking up into his face. "How could I not be glad?" She seemed almost vexed at the simplicity of the question.
"Then I am happy," said Julius, sitting down beside her.
And he spoke the truth; for the time he was utterly and supremely happy. He felt indeed the grave and serious mood, which the bravest man must feel when he knows that in a very few days his life will be at stake. But his vanity told him he was going to fight for her, and that gave him a happiness apart; so he concealed the serious tendency of his thoughts, talking easily and gayly. It was his vanity that helped him most, telling him it was for her; and, as always in his life, the prospect of a woman's praise was a supreme incentive. He did not reflect that he was not to fight for Leonora's honour, but for the greatest dishonour the world held for her.
The broad sun poured down on the water, but the west wind fanned their faces and the awning kept the heat from them. Leonora lay back with half-closed eyes, now and then carefully opening and shutting a fan she held. She was wonderful to look at, her marvellous skin, and the masses of her red hair—the true red of the Venetian women—contrasting strongly with her soft dark dress, and a Sorrento handkerchief of crimson silk, just knotted about her dazzling throat. She was a marvellous specimen of vital nature, of pure living litheness and elasticity, gloriously human and alive. And the man beside her was almost as singular in a different way: he was so quiet, and moved so easily, and his bright blue eyes were so fiery and clear, his skin so bronzed and even in colour; there was strength about him too; and the passengers as they came and went would steal a glance at the couple, and make remarks, quite audible to Julius and Leonora, about the beauty of those Inglesi.
"Which do you like best, dear," asked Julius presently, "the day or the night?"
"Oh—that night was so beautiful," said Leonora; "I love the moon, and the freshness, and the white sails, and all."