They called it a pleasure city. Of course, there
was none of that in your time--rather, I should say, is none of
that now. Of course. Now!--yes.
"Well, this room of ours was at the extremity of the cape, so
that one could see east and west. Eastward was a great cliff--a
thousand feet high perhaps--coldly gray except for one bright edge
of gold, and beyond it the Isle of the Sirens, and a falling coast
that faded and passed into the hot sunrise. And when one turned to
the west, distinct and near was a little bay, a little beach still
in shadow. And out of that shadow rose Solaro straight and tall,
flushed and golden crested, like a beauty throned, and the white
moon was floating behind her in the sky. And before us from east
to west stretched the many-tinted sea all dotted with little
sailing boats.
"To the eastward, of course, these little boats were gray and
very minute and clear, but to the westward they were little boats
of gold--shining gold--almost like little flames. And just below
us was a rock with an arch worn through it. The blue sea-water
broke to green and foam all round the rock, and a galley came
gliding out of the arch."
"I know that rock." I said. "I was nearly drowned there. It
is called the Faraglioni."
"I Faraglioni? Yes, she called it that," answered the man
with the white face.
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