"Do let us go!" said Acmé, clapping her hands with youthful enthusiasm.
"No, no! my dear!" said Sir Henry, "we must not think of it! you would be so tired."
"No, no! you do not know how strong I am; and I intend sleeping on George's shoulder all the way--and we are all in such high spirits--and these improvised excursions you yourself granted were always best--and besides, you know we must always start at this hour, if we expect to see the sunrise from the mountain. What do you say, Giorgio?"
The discussion ended, by the driver taking the direction of the hotel; whence, after making arrangements as to provisions and change of dress, the party started for the mountain.
The warm cheek of Acmé was reposing on that of her husband; and the wanton night air was disporting with her wavy tresses, as the loud halloo of the driver, warned them that they were in Portici, and in the act of arousing Salvador, the guide to the mountain. After some short delay, they procured mules. Each brother armed himself with a long staff, and leaving the carriage, they wended their way towards the Hermitage.
It was a clear night. The moon was majestically gliding on her path, vassalled by myriads of stars.
There was something in the hour--and the scene--and the novelty of the excursion--that enjoined silence.
Arrived at the Hermitage, the party dismounted. Acmé clung to the strap, fastened round their guide, and they commenced the ascent. In a short time, they had manifest proofs of their vicinity to the volcano. The ashy lava gave way at each footstep, and it was only by taking short and quick steps, and perseveringly toiling on, that they were enabled to make any progress.
More than once, was Acmé inclined to stop, and take breath, but the guide assured them they were already late, and that they would only just be in time for the sunrise.
As the last of the party reached the summit, the sun became perceptible--and rose in glory indescribable. The scene afar how gorgeous! around them how grand!