What Artois was doing at the Ristorante della Stella she was doing at the Trattoria del Giardinetto.
She would dine quietly here, and then walk back to the sea in the cool of the evening.
That was her decision. Yet when evening fell, and her bill was paid, she took the tram that was going down to Naples, and passed presently before the eyes of Artois. The coming of darkness had revived within her much of the mood of the afternoon. She felt that she could not go home without doing something definite, and she resolved to go to the Scoglio di Frisio, have a cup of coffee there, look through the visitors’ book, and then take a boat and return by night to the island. The sea wind would cool her, would do her good.
Nothing told her when the eyes of her friend were for an instant fixed upon her, when the mind of her friend for a moment wondered at the strange, new look in her face. She left the tram presently at the doorway above which is Frisio’s name, descended to the little terrace from which Vere had run in laughing with the Marchesino, and stood there for a moment hesitating.
The long restaurant was lit up, and from it came the sound of music—guitars, and a voice singing. She recognized the throaty tenor of the blind man raised in a spurious and sickly rapture:
“Sa-anta-a Lu-u-ci-ia! Santa Luci—a!”
It recalled her sharply to the night of the storm. For a moment she felt again the strange, the unreasonable sense of fear, indefinable but harsh, which had come upon her then, as fear comes suddenly sometimes upon a child.
Then she stepped into the restaurant.
As on the other night, there were but few people dining there, and they were away at the far end of the big room. Near them stood the musicians under a light—seedy, depressed; except the blind man, who lifted his big head, rolled his tongue, and swelled and grew scarlet in an effort to be impressive.
Hermione sat down at the first table.