"Vedi Napoli e poi mori!" replied Hillard.
"Hold on," exclaimed Merrihew. "Pass it out slowly. What's that mean?"
"See Naples and die."
"I prefer to see it and live. But I am kind of disappointed in Vesuvius. It's not the terrible old Moloch of my geographies that gobbled up cities and peoples. And nobody seems to be afraid of it," with a gesture toward the villages nestling with the utmost confidence at the circling base. "Not a bit of smoke anywhere."
"No, my boy, don't speak slightingly of old Vesuvius. It is one of the great mysteries of the world. To-morrow that mountain may swallow up the whole bay, or it may never wake up again. Respect it; I do. When I recall Herculaneum and Pompeii—"
"Two thousand years ago; that's different. I'm never satisfied, I know, but I should like to see it blow its head off while I'm here."
"Not I! As I grow older I like comfort and security more and more. See that village on the cliffs toward the south? That's Sorrento, where I was born. The eruption of '72 happened while I was there, but I was too young to take any particular notice. Sh! Look at Giovanni."
Merrihew looked at the old Roman. Tears were running down his cheeks, and his gaze strove to pierce the distance to the far-off Sabine Hills. Italy! Yonder his heart and soul had taken root; his native land, his native land, and condemned to live in exile from it! Hillard leaned over and touched him on the arm, and he started.
"Take care, Giovanni."
"Pardon! I am weak this day, but to-morrow I shall be strong. Seven years! Have you not longed for it yourself? Has not your heart gone out many times across the seas to those cliffs?" pointing to Sorrento.