The passengers had landed, just as had been prearranged. The Chésys and Dickie Marsh had gone off to visit the fleet of pleasure yachts moored near the pier. The Marchesa had received a telegram from Navagero announcing the arrival of the Dalilah in Corsican waters. And now a hired landau was bearing the tender-hearted woman, in company with Florence, Madame de Carlsberg, and Pierre Hautefeuille, toward the Genoese palace, where Corancez was awaiting them. The carriage climbed up the narrow streets, passing the painted façades of the old marble houses whose columns, all over the city, testify to the pretentious opulence of the old half-noble, half-piratical merchants. All along the route the streets, or rather the corridors, that descended to the port swarmed with a chattering, active, gesticulating people. Although the north wind was now blowing keenly, the three women had insisted upon the carriage being left open, so that they could see the crowd, the crumbling, splendid façades, and the picturesque costumes. The Marchesa smiled, still agitated, but now happy, in reply to Miss Marsh's words of encouragement, as she said:-- "Yes, you were right. I am not afraid now, and begin to think that I am awake and not dreaming.--Yet, if any one had told me that some day I should go with you three along the Piazza delle Fontane Morose to do what I am going to do.--Ah! _Jésus Dieu_! there is Corancez!--How imprudent he is!" It was, indeed, the Provençal. He was standing at the corner of the famous square and the ancient via Nuova, now the via Garibaldi, the street which Galéas Alessi, Michael Angelo's pupil, glorified with the palaces of Cambiaso, Serra, Spinola, Doria, Brignole-Sale, and Fregoso, masterpieces of imposing architecture that, by themselves, are sufficient justification for the title of Superb, given to Genoa by its arrogant citizens. It was certainly ill-advised to venture into the streets, risking a meeting with some French acquaintance. But Corancez had not been able to resist the temptation. He was playing for such high stakes that for once his nervousness had overmastered the natural prudence of the Provençal, ordinarily patient and circumspect, one of those people for whom the Genoese would seem to have invented this maxim: "He who is patient will buy thrushes for a liard each." By means of a messenger he had been informed of the arrival of the _Jenny_. He had then left the safe shelter of the palace so as to be sure that his _fiancée_ had arrived. When he saw the beautiful golden hair of Madame Bonnacorsi, a wave of hot blood seemed to course through his veins. He jumped upon the carriage-step gayly, boyishly even, without waiting for the carriage to stop. Without any more delay than was required to kiss his betrothed's hand, to utter a word of welcome to Madame de Carlsberg and Florence, and to greet Hautefeuille gratefully, he began to tell of his two weeks' exile with his usual gayety.