She took her arms from the wall and looked at the man.
“Could I have the boat?”
“The signora wishes to go on the lake?”
“Yes.”
“I will tell Paolo.”
Two or three minutes later the boy who had sung came to say that the boat was ready.
Lady Holme fetched a cloak, and went down the dark stone staircase between the lichen-covered walls to the tall iron gate. The boat was lying by the outer steps. She got in and Paolo took the oars.
“Where does the signora wish to go?”
“Anywhere out on the lake.”
He pushed off. Soon the noise of the waterfall behind Casa Felice died away, the spectral facade faded and only the plash of the oars and the tinkle of fishermen’s bells above the nets, floating here and there in the lake, were audible. The distant lights of mountain villages gleamed along the shores, and the lights of the stars gleamed in the clear sky.