With noble magnanimity, however, the driver still wished to instruct his indifferent clients, showing them with the point of his whip the beauty and wonders of his repertoire.

“That church is S.  Maria del Parto, sometimes called by others the Sannazaro. Sannazaro was also a noted poet who described the loves of shepherdesses, and Frederick II of Aragon made him the gift of a villa with gardens in order that he might write with greater comfort...  Those were other days, sir!  His heirs converted it into a church and——­”

The voice of the coachman stopped short.  Behind him the pair were talking in an incomprehensible language, without paying the slightest attention to him, without acknowledging his erudite explanations.  Ignorant foreigners!...  And he said no more, wrapping himself in offended silence, relieving his Neapolitan verbosity with a series of shouts and grunts to his horse.

The new road from Posilipo, the work of Murat, skirted the gulf, rising along the mountain edge and constantly emphasizing the declivity between the covering of its feet and the border of the sea.  On this hanging slope may be seen villas with white or rosy facades midst the splendor of a vegetation that is always green and glossy.  Beyond the colonnades of palm trees and parasol pines, appeared the gulf like a blue curtain, its upper edge showing above the murmuring tops of the trees.

An enormous edifice appeared facing the water.  It was a palace in ruins, or rather a roofless palace never finished, with thick walls and huge windows.  On the lower floor the waves entered gently through doors and windows which served as rooms of refuge for the fishermen’s skiffs.

The two travelers were undoubtedly talking about this ruin, and the forgiving coachman forgot his snub in order to come to their aid.

“That is what many people call the Palace of Queen Joanna....  A mistake, sir.  Ignorance of the uneducated people!  That is the Palazzo di Donn’ Anna, and Donna Anna Carafa was a great Neapolitan signora, wife of the Duke of Medina, the Spanish viceroy who constructed the palace for her and was not able to finish it."...

He was about to say more but stopped himself.  Ah, no!  By the Madonna!...  Again they had begun to talk, without listening to him....  And he finally took refuge in offended silence, while they chattered continually behind his back.

Ferragut felt an interest in the remote love-affairs of the Neapolitan great lady with the prudent and aristocratic Spanish magnate.  His passion had made the grave viceroy commit the folly of constructing a palace in the sea.  The sailor was also in love with a woman of another race and felt equal desires to do whimsical things for her.

“I have read the mandates of Nietzsche,” he said to her, by way of explaining his enthusiasm,—­“‘seek thy wife outside thy country.’  That is the best thing.”