"It won't get into your head, you can drink as much as you like of it. Here is my husband just coming, you must sit down and chat with him a bit." And truly the stately patron of the inn approached them just at that moment down the hill, with his net on his shoulder, and his red cap set jauntily sideways on his ringletted hair. He had been into the town with fish, ordered by the great lady for our little friend the padre of Lorento. When he caught sight of the young fisherman he waved him a hearty greeting; then seating himself near him on the bench, began to question and talk. His wife had just brought a fresh flask of pure unadulterated Capri, when the shore sand to their left crackled, and Lauretta advanced towards them from the road to Anacapri. She greeted them with a hasty nod, and stopped irresolutely. Antonino sprang up; "I must away," he said; "it is a girl from Lorento who came this morning with the padre, and must go back this evening to her sick mother." "Well, but it is a long time before night," said the host, "she will have time enough to drink a glass of wine. Here, wife, bring a clean glass." "Thank you, I do not wish to drink," said Lauretta, remaining at some little distance. "Pour out, wife, pour out, she wants pressing." "Let her alone," said the young man, "she has a will of her own, when once she has made up her mind, no one can make her alter it." And therewith he took a hasty leave, and ran down to his boat, to set the sail, and stood waiting for the girl. She waved a greeting back to the hostess, and then with hesitating steps approached the boat. She glanced on all sides, as if she hoped for the arrival of other passengers; but the Marina was deserted; the fishermen slept, or were away at sea with their nets and hooks. A few women and children sat in their doorways, sleeping or spinning; and the strangers who had come across in the morning, delayed their return until the cooler evening. She was prevented from looking around her long, for before she could turn round, Antonino had taken her in his arms and carried her like a child to the boat. Then he sprang in after her, and with a few strokes from the oars, they were in the open sea. She seated herself in the fore-part of the boat, with her back half turned towards him, so that he could only see her _en profil_. The expression of her face was even more haughty than usual; the dark hair hung low over the broad low forehead, and around her finely cut nostrils quivered an expression of defiance; her swelling lips were firmly compressed. After they had sailed on in silence for some time, she felt the sun burning her face, so she took her bread out and threw the handkerchief over her hair; then she began to eat, to dine in fact, for she had eaten nothing at Capri.