A few days after the arrival of the frigate, a pic-nic excursion to the shores of Lake Agnano was proposed. The party was to consist of the persons of whom I have just been speaking, together with a few other English friends, chiefly gentlemen from the embassy. Accordingly they set off on one of those delightful mornings which are of themselves almost sufficient to make strangers exclaim with the enthusiastic Neapolitans, "Vedi Napoli e poi mori!" The surpassing loveliness of the scene, its perfect repose with so many elements of action, brought to the soul such a luxurious sense of passive enjoyment, that it seemed like the echo of all experienced happiness. I can not say if the Strada Nuova, in all its present paved perfection, then existed; but there must have been some sort of a road following the indentations of that lovely shore.
I have traced from Genoa to Nice the far-famed windings of the Maritime Alps—I have sailed along the glittering shores of the Bosphorus—I have admired the boasted site of the Lusitanian capital—and yet I feel, as all travelers must feel, that the combined charms of all these would fail to make another Naples.
Far out before them lay the fair island of Capri, like a sea goddess, with arms outstretched to receive the playful waters of the Mediterranean. Behind, Vesuvius rose majestically, the blue smoke lazily curling from its summit, as peaceful as if it had only been placed there as an accessory to the beauty of the scene; and further on, as they turned the promontory, lay the bright islets of Nisita and Procida, so fantastic in their shapes and so romantic in their outlines.
On reaching the shore of Lake Agnano, our travelers left their carriage near the villa of Lucullus. Of course they suffocated themselves, according to the approved habit of tourists, in the vapor baths of San Germano—and according to the same approved habit, devoted an unfortunate dog to temporary strangulation in the mephitic air of the Grotta del cane. After doing up the lions of the neighborhood, our friends seated themselves near the shore, to partake of the cold fowls and champagne, of which ample provision had been made for the excursion.
"I should have preferred the native Lachrymæ Christi to champagne," interrupted the Dutchman, "if the usual quality compares with that of some I once drank at Rotterdam."
The repast finished, resumed the Frenchman, most of the party strolled off to the other extremity of the lake—until after a short time no one was left but Miss V——, who was amusing herself by making a sketch of the landscape. What a pity that the women of other nations are so rarely accomplished in drawing, while the English ladies are almost universally so!
Well then, our fair heroine for the moment, had got on most industriously with her work, when suddenly, on raising her eyes from her paper to a stack of decayed vines, she was disagreeably surprised at finding a pair of questionable optics leveled upon her. Retaining her composure of manner, she continued tranquilly her occupation, until she had time to remark that the intruder was accompanied by at least a dozen companions. At this moment the personage whom she had first seen, quietly left his place of partial concealment, walked up to the astonished lady, folded his arms, and stationed himself behind her back. He was a large, heavy, good-looking person—but the circumstances under which he presented himself, rather than any peculiarity in his appearance, caused Miss V—— to suspect the honesty of his profession.
"Indeed you are making an uncommonly pretty picture there, if you will permit me to say so," remarked the stranger.
"I am glad you like it," replied the young lady. "I think, however, that it would be vastly improved, if you would permit me to sketch your figure in the foreground."
"Nothing would flatter me more. But, cara signorina, my present object is a much less romantic one than sitting for my portrait to so fair an artist. Will you allow me to gather up for myself and my half famished friends, the fragments of your recent meal?"