"Listen, there's the breakfast bell," I said. "We'll all go over to Pisa and do the amiable with the others, and afterwards we must discover some matter which requires our urgent presence on shore—you understand?
"Exactly," she said.
"I leave the excuses to you, my dear; you're so excellent at soft sawder. Remember that at all hazards I don't sail. I hope you are equally determined."
"I'm quite with you," she declared. "Of course, we don't want to offend the old gentleman, for he's a useful person to know when one winters on the Riviera. Nevertheless, I quite agree that to be shipped up and down the Mediterranean like this is something beyond a joke. I wonder why the others stand it?"
"Why they stand it? Because he's a millionaire, and nearly all of them are indebted to him in some way or other. They can't demur. It isn't policy on their part to do so."
And so it was agreed between us that by hook or by crook we should either forget to sail, or openly present our apologies to our host.
After breakfast, always a merry meal when in port, but sometimes a sparsely-attended one when the mistral was blowing, we all took train to Pisa, accompanied by Keppel père et fils, the latter wishing us a temporary farewell and going on to Florence, whence, he told us, he should return on the following night to rejoin us on our cruise.
I knew that he had not the least intention of doing so. He had actually told Ulrica privately that he was compelled to go by Milan and Bâle to Berlin, on some pressing business for his father.
The day's excursion to see the Leaning Tower and other wonders of the marble-built city by the Arno was, as far as the others were concerned, a success. To Ulrica and myself, who acted as guides, it was a day of absolute self-sacrifice. The only redeeming feature was the excellence of our lunch at the little unpretending restaurant beside the river, called the Nettuno. Any of my readers who have occasion to visit Pisa should remember it, and should carefully avoid those glaring hotels near the station, just as they should avoid the station-buffet.
At five o'clock we returned to Leghorn, wearied out, and at half-past six dined together on board. During the whole of the day I had managed to attach myself to old Mr. Keppel, in order to watch his movements; but, quite contrary to my expectations, he did not excuse himself by saying that he wished to make purchases; and further, instead of remaining in Pisa, as I expected he would do, he actually returned and took his usual seat at the head of the dining-table.