"What is it, Marta?" Pappina persisted as she caught up with the woman.
"Vesuvius, carina."
"Where does all the smoke come from? Where's the fire?"
Marta told Pappina all she knew about it:
"Travelers from all parts of the world come and climb the volcano to look down into the crater, the mouth from which the smoke comes. I went up once with Countess Filota. People melt coins in the lava—that's the melted rock that comes out with the smoke. Sometimes the guides boil eggs over the lava to show how hot it is."
"Marta, can't we go up? Weren't you afraid to look down into the mouth?"
"No, carina. They tell the story of an Englishman who went too close and fell in, but that was because of his own carelessness. There is no danger. Perhaps sometime we shall be able to go, so you can see for yourself."
On and on they marched, with the pillar of smoke ever before them. Pappina could not overcome the awe she felt at first sight of this great furnace of Nature.
The walk down the dusty road through Posilipo awakened memories in Marta's heart. She spoke, more to herself than to Pappina:
"How long it is since I came here with my dear Countess Filota! She and her friends spoke of Cicero and Virgil, their homes beneath this hillside. We turned and went—let me see, which way was it? It is so long ago I have almost forgotten. Oh! this way, to the left and we visited the tomb of Virgil; we—"