In attire she was transformed.  No suggestion now of the lady from provincial England.  She was very well, because most fittingly, dressed; neither too youthfully, nor with undue disregard of the fact that she was still young; a travelling-costume apt to the season and the country.

“They speak much of Signor Mal-lard at the osteria,” said Spence.  “Your departure afflicts them, naturally, no doubt.  Do you know whether any other Englishman ever braved that accommodation?”

A country lad appeared, carrying a small hamper, wherein the party had brought their midday meal from Salerno.

“Why did you trouble?” said Mallard.  “We have cheese and salame in abundance.”

“So I supposed,” Spence replied, drily.  “I recall the quality of both.  Also the vino di Calabria, which is villanously sweet.  Show us what point of view you chose.”

For an hour they walked and talked.  Miriam alone was almost silent, but she paid constant attention to the ruins.  Mallard heard her say something to Eleanor about the difference between the columns of the middle temple and those of the so-called Basilica; three years ago, such a remark would have been impossible on her lips, and when he glanced at her with curiosity, she seemed conscious of his look.

They at length opened the hamper, and seated themselves near the spot where Mallard had been reclining.

“There’s a smack of profanity in this,” said Spence.  “The least we can do is to pour a libation to Poseidon, before we begin the meal.”

And he did so, filling a tumbler with wine arid solemnly emptying half of it on to the floor of the cella.  Mallard watched the effect on Mrs. Baske; she met his look for an instant and smiled, then relapsed into thoughtfulness.

The only other visitors to-day were a couple of Germans, who looked like artists and went about in enthusiastic talk; one kept dealing the other severe blows on the chest, which occasionally made the recipient stagger—­all in pure joy and friendship.  They measured some of the columns, and in one place, for a special piece of observation, the smaller man mounted on his companion’s shoulders.  Miriam happened to see them whilst they were thus posed, and the spectacle struck her with such ludicrous effect that she turned away to disguise sudden laughter.  In doing so, she by chance faced Mallard, and he too began to laugh.  For the first time since they had been acquainted, they looked into each other’s eyes with frank, hearty merriment.  Miriam speedily controlled herself, and there came a flush to her cheeks.

“You may laugh,” said Spence, observing them, “but when did you see two Englishmen abroad who did themselves so much honour?”

“True enough,” replied Mallard.  “One supposes that Englishmen with brains are occasionally to be found in Italy, but I don’t know where they hide themselves.”

“You will meet one in Rome in a few days,” remarked Eleanor, “if you go on with us—­as I hope you intend to?”