Marcel wrung his hand. "Thanks awfully. I will follow your advice to the letter," and going into the hall he picked up his hat and stick and left the hotel arm in arm with his friend to see the beauties and sights of the place, but more especially with the object of purchasing the ring to adorn his divinity's hand, so as to be ready for the attack when they returned for lunch.
Meanwhile Delapine was walking arm in arm with Monsieur Payot and Renée up and down the broad terrace of the hotel.
"Where are we now?" said Payot to Delapine who was well acquainted with the Riviera.
"We are at present in the little seaside town of Beaulieu, which may be called a suburb of Villefranche, the town you see on the right snugly nestled in the little bay formed by the promontory over there," and he pointed with his stick.
"What is the town still further away on our right?" said Renée as she stood looking at a handsome steam yacht which was making its way towards the bay of Villefranche.
"That is Nice which we passed last night in the train, and further away you can just catch sight of Var and Antibes. That white streak there is the carriage road—the Corniche—one of the most celebrated roads in Europe which extends along the entire coast of the Riviera. Dante trod the road when an exile from Italy, and it suggested to him a road out of purgatory. In those days it was a terrible pass hewn out of the solid rock, now rising to giddy heights, and now dropping almost to the sea level. At times half hidden by great projecting rocks, and again splashed by mountain streams and disappearing into deep gorges covered with trees and ferns, it formed a majestic image to Dante of the ascent from the Purgatorial Sea."
"But, Henri, it does not seem dreadful at all to me."
"Not now; thanks to modern engineering, instead of being a rugged road on which a slip was frequently fatal, it is now a magnificent carriage road as smooth as this terrace and quite as safe. We shall walk along it this afternoon, when we will inspect the buildings and grounds of Monte Carlo, and I think you will say that you could never be tired of viewing such lovely scenery as we shall see, such wonderful variety does it offer.
"Look," he said, pointing with his stick to the verdure-clad mountains which formed the background to the picture, "how beautiful it is. See how the slopes are covered with olive, almond, carouba, and pine trees which grow here in such perfection as you will seek for elsewhere in vain. What could be finer? See far away in the distance the chain of the Alpes Maritimes with their summits decked with snow. Now come with me round the terrace. Do you see that great isolated rock towards Nice, standing out all by itself surmounted by a great ivy-coloured castle? That is the castle of Eza. See how brown with age it looks, clothed with pellitory and ivy."