“Will you come, Donna Beatrice?” asked San Miniato, wishing with all his heart that he had never proposed the excursion.

It seemed absurd to refuse after coming so far and the young girl got into the skiff, taking Ruggiero’s hand to steady herself.  It did not tremble to-night as it had trembled a few days ago.  Beatrice was glad, for she fancied that he was recovering from his insane passion for her.  Then San Miniato got over, rather awkwardly as he did everything so soon as he left the land.  Then Teresina jumped down, and last of all Bastianello.  So they shoved off and pulled away into the deep shadow under the bluffs.  There the cliff rises perpendicularly seven hundred feet out of the water, deeply indented at its base with wave-worn caves and hollows, but not affording a fast hold anywhere save on the broad ledge of the single islet of rock from which a high natural arch springs suddenly across the water to the abrupt precipice which forms the mountain’s base.

Calmly, as though it were an every-day excursion, Ruggiero lighted a torch and held it out when the boat was alongside of the rocks, showing the dark green crabs that lay by dozens motionless as though paralysed by the strong red glare.  And Bastianello picked them off and tossed them into the kettle at his feet, as fast as he could put out his hands to take them.  Teresina tried, too, but one almost bit her tender fingers and she contented herself with looking on, while San Miniato and Beatrice silently watched the proceedings from their place in the stern.

Little by little Ruggiero made the boat follow the base of the precipice, till she was under the natural arch.

“Pardon, Excellency,” he said quietly, “but the foreigners think this is a sight with the torches.  If you will go ashore on the ledge, I will show it you.”

The proposal seemed very natural under the circumstances, and as the operation of picking crabs off the rocks and dropping them into a caldron loses its interest when repeated many times, Beatrice immediately assented.

The larger boat was slowly following and the tinkle of the mandolin, playing waltz music, rang out through the stillness.  Ruggiero brought the skiff alongside of the ledge where it was lowest.

“Get ashore, Bastianello,” he said in the same quiet tone.  Bastianello obeyed and stood ready to help Beatrice, who came next.

As she stepped upon the rock Ruggiero raised the torch high with one hand, so that the red light fell strong and full upon her face, and he looked keenly at her, his eyes fixing themselves strangely, as she could see, for she could not help glancing down at him as she stood still upon the ledge.

“Now Teresina,” said Ruggiero, still gazing up at Beatrice.

Teresina grasped Bastianello’s hand and sprang ashore, happy as a child at the touch.  San Miniato was about to follow and had already risen from his seat.  But with a strong turn of his hand Ruggiero made the stern of the skiff swing out across the narrow water that is twenty fathoms deep between the mountain and the islet.