CHAPTER LIX.

NATALIE SPEAKS.

It was about five in the morning, and as yet dark, when George Brand arrived in Naples.  He wrote a note asking Calabressa to call on him, and left it to be despatched by the porter of the hotel; then he lay down for an hour or two, without undressing, for he was somewhat fatigued with his continuous travelling.

On going down to breakfast he got Calabressa’s answer, saying he was very sorry he could not obey the commands of his dear friend Monsieur Brand, because he was on duty; but that he could be found, if Monsieur Brand would have the goodness to seek out the wine-vaults of one Tommaso, in the Vicolo Isotta.  There, also, Monsieur Brand would see some others.

Accordingly, after breakfast Brand set out, leisurely and observantly, for he did not think there was any great hurry.  It was a beautiful, brisk, breezy morning, though occasionally a squall of rain swept across the roughened sea, blotting out Capri altogether.  There were crisp gleams of white on the far plain, and there was a dazzling mist of sunlight and sea-foam where the waves sprung high on the rocks of the citadel; and even here in the busy streets there was a fresh sea-odor as the gusts of the damp wind blew along.  Naples was alive and busy, but Brand regarded this swarming population with but little interest.  He knew that none of his friends would be out and abroad so early.

In due time he found out the gloomy little court and the wine-vaults.  Moreover, he had no trouble with the ghoul-like Tommaso, who had apparently received his instructions.  No sooner had Brand inquired for Calabressa than he was invited to follow his guide, who waddled along, candle in hand, like some over-grown orang-outang.  At length they reached the staircase, where there was a little more light, and here he found Calabressa waiting to receive him.  Calabressa seemed overjoyed.

“Yes, yes, my dear Monsieur Brand, you have arrived opportunely.  You also will remonstrate with that beautiful child for having fallen out with her old friend Calabressa.  Think of it! one who would wear his knees out to serve her; and when I go to the hotel—­”

“One word, Calabressa,” said Brand, as he followed him into a small empty room.  “Tell me, is Lind in Naples?”

“Assuredly.  He has petitioned for a year’s grace:  he wishes to join the Montenegrins.”

“He will have more than a year’s grace,” said Brand, gravely.  “Something has happened.  You remember the man Kirski?  Well, he has killed himself to release Lind.”

“Just Heaven!” Calabressa exclaimed; but the exclamation was one of astonishment, not in the least of regret.  On the contrary, he began to speak in tones of exultation.

“Ah, let us hear now what the beautiful child will say!  For who was it that reclaimed that savage animal, and taught him the beautifulness of self-sacrifice, and showed him how the most useless life could be made serviceable and noble?  Who but I?  He was my pupil:  I first watched the light of virtue beginning to radiate through his savage nature.  That is what I will ask the beautiful Natalushka when I see her.  Perhaps she will not again turn away from an old friend—­”