She was a dainty ash-blonde with a high color in striking contrast to her general delicacy of tone.  Her great, almond-shaped, black eyes appeared like those of an Oriental dancer, and were yet further prolonged by skillful retouching of shadows that augmented the seductive contrast with her dull gold hair.

The whiteness of her skin became very evident when her arm showed outside her sleeve and at the opening of her low-necked dress.  But this whiteness was now temporarily effaced by a ruddy mask.  Her vigorous beauty had been fearlessly exposed to the sun and the breath of the sea, and a scarlet triangle emphasized the sweet curve of her bosom, accentuating the low cut of her gown.  Upon her sunburned throat a necklace of pearls hung in moonlight drops.  Further up, in a face tanned by the inclemency of the weather, the mouth parted its two scarlet, bow-shaped lips with an audacious and serene smile, showing the reflection of her strong and handsome teeth.

Ferragut reviewed his past without finding a single woman that could be exactly compared with her.  The distant perfume of her person and her genteel elegance reminded him of certain dubious ladies who were always traveling alone when he was captain of the transatlantic liners.  But these acquaintances had been so rapid and were so far away!...  Never in his history as a world-rover had he had the good luck to chance upon a woman just like this one.

Again exchanging glances with her, he felt that throb in the heart and flash in the brain which accompany a lightning-like and unexpected discovery...  He had known that woman:  he could not recall where he had seen her, but he was sure that he must have known her.

Her face told his memory nothing, but those eyes had exchanged glances with his on other occasions.  In vain he reflected, concentrating his thoughts....  And the queer thing about it all was that, by some mysterious perception, he became absolutely certain that she was doing the same thing at the very same moment.  She also had recognized him, and was evidently making great effort to give him a name and place in her memory.  He had only to notice the frequency with which she turned her eyes toward him and her new smile, more confident and spontaneous, such as she would give to an old friend.

Had her dragon not been present, they would have talked together enthusiastically, instinctively, like two restless, curious beings wishing to clear up the mystery; but the gold-rimmed glasses were always gleaming authoritatively and inimically, coming between the two.  Several times the fat lady spoke in a language that reached Ferragut confusedly and which was not English, and their dinner was hardly finished before they disappeared just as they had done in the streets of Pompeii,—­the older one evidently influencing the other with her iron will.

The following morning they all met again in a first-class coach in the station of Salerno.  Undoubtedly they had the same destination.  As Ferragut began to greet them, the hostile dame deigned to return his salutation, looking then at her companion with a questioning expression.  The sailor guessed that during the night they had been discussing him while he, under the same roof, had been struggling uselessly, before falling asleep, to concentrate his recollections.