# Blue Magic/Chapter 12

CHAPTER XII
THE BAY OF NAPLES
OF course the Norvells were very anxious to see not only Naples, but also Pompeii, and as much of the surrounding country as possible.
"As I've lived hereabouts for ages," said Cynthia, on being urged to join the party, "I think that I shall stay peacefully on board with Fen and paint the lovely, lovely sea."
So they went without her.
Fen was very much interested in Auntie's preparations for sketching. She let him squeeze delightful spirals of color from fat tubes, and then stationed herself at some distance from him, apparently to paint the bay.
​"Please," said Fen, presently, "tell me some more things about when I was so little"
"Well," said Auntie, glancing toward him and making vigorous dabs with her brush, "you had a queer sort of doll-thing that was very old. You called it Dearmisslady, and you always took it to bed with you,—everywhere, in fact,—into your bath, and out for a walk, and to dinner. It had one button eye, and all the rest of its face had disappeared."
"I do remember that," said Fen; "I did love Dearmisslady. But it's queer I can't remember lots of things—I think I forgot, after I got hurt."
"But you were so little when that happened—why, not much more than half-past two—poor baby!" murmured Auntie, painting violently.
"I didn't know you knew about it," said Fen, shyly. "I thought p'raps you'd ​be—surprised when you saw me, an' wouldn't like me then."
Indeed I knew about it," said Auntie, and since then I've been more particularly fond than ever of one of my nephews. How could you think it would matter, darling?"
"I didn't know," murmured Fen; "you were away always—I thought—"
At that moment a tall figure, leaping to the deck, cut short his words. Snatching a striped silken cap from his dark hair, this young man bowed absurdly low, and cried:
"Signor, le augur o il buono giorno! Spera ch'ella sia in buona salute"
"Good heavens!" thought Cynthia, as yet unseen in the shadows. "What can the man want? I 'm positive that Fen doesn't understand Italian."
Radiant, her nephew held up his face ​for a kiss, which the young man bestowed very tenderly.
"Oh, how did you get here? You must have a magic carpet, after all!" cried Fen.
"Nay, caro mio," said Siddereticus, "but did I not tell you that I have other means of—" He stopped short, perceiving fixed on him the astonished gaze of an auburn-haired young lady, who sat motionless with amazement behind an easel.
"Oh!" cried Fen, "this is my Aunt Cynthia—I told you about her. Auntie, this is Siddereticus."
"This is Siddereticus, is it?" thought Cynthia, as she acknowledged the young man's bow. "I don't know that that enlightens me much!"
The Djinn turned gravely to Fen again.
"I came on the wings of the morning," ​he said; "I waited not till the amulet should summon me, for my heart was sad away from you."
Fen grew rather red.
"I forgot about the amulet," he confessed; "so many exciting things have been happening; but I wanted you just the same—awfully!"
"So here I am," said Siddereticus, smoothing his red sash, "However, I came but to greet you, and must vanish again."
"Oh, not so soon!" cried Fen. "Why, you've only just come!"
Siddereticus glanced uneasily toward Cynthia.
"The signorina illustrissima is painting," said he; "my presence disturbs her."
"She's painting the bay," Fen said. "Please look at it. I haven't seen it."
Obedient, the young man stepped behind Cynthia, and an exclamation of ​surprise and admiration broke from him. For it was not the Bay of Naples she was painting—it was Fen. Into the quick sketch she had managed to get more than a suggestion of his wistful charm. She had happily caught, somehow, the look of the eager, sensitive little face, and a hint of the spirit behind it. Now, as she glanced for a moment at Thornton, he was almost startled to see how very much her eyes were like Fen's.
"Is it good?" asked the child; "does it look like it?"
"Very good!" said Siddereticus, "very much like it indeed. I congratulate you, Signorina illustrissima!"
Their eyes met for a second, and she turned away, laughing.
"It is a very difficult subject," she said.
Siddereticus bowed over her hand, kissed Fen, and disappeared as suddenly as he had come.
​"Now!" sighed Auntie, "please tell me who and what is Siddereticus?"
"He's a Blue Djinn—my own one,"said Fen, without noticing the frankly amazed expression of his aunt. "But I'll begin at the beginning and tell you all about him."
"Please do," begged Auntie, as she gathered up her brushes again. So Fen plunged forthwith into a fairly clear account of the Djinn's various manifestations, which, as it progressed, brought a whimsical little smile to Cynthia's lips and more than once dimmed her eyes.
"There, I think I've 'splained it all, an' you're the only person I've ever told about it," he concluded.
"Yes," said Auntie quietly, "I think I know all about Siddereticus, now."
The young man boarded the yacht very cautiously on the following day; but ​seeing Fen alone, he approached more boldly, and, slipping behind the chair, covered the child's eyes with his hands.
"It's Siddereticus!" said Fen, promptly. "Your hands feel so strong and magic."
"What did you mean by telling me that your Auntie was 'quite old'?" demanded Siddereticus.
"Why, she is," said Fen'; "she's nearly twenty-four. But I suppose you must be ever so much older. If you're a Djinn I suppose you're thousands of years old."
"Millions!" sighed Siddereticus. "Did your aunt finish her picture of the Bay of Naples?"
"I don't know—she took it away. But oh, Siddereticus, something so awfully wonderful has happened! I'm such a lot better, that, if I keep on, they're going to let me try to walk—with crutches, you know."
​Siddereticus gently smoothed the shining hair.
"That makes me very glad," he said quietly. "When?"
"Next week, I think," said Fen, and laid his cheek suddenly against Siddereticus's hand.
Just then Cynthia appeared at the head of the companionway, holding a canvas. She started when she saw the young man, who sprang up, saying:
"L'illustrissima signorina! If it is the picture, completed, I must see it!"
It was, and she showed it to him. He looked at it for some time, and then said, I think you must give this picture to me."
"Why should I give you my beautiful picture?" she demanded.
"Because I am a Djinn and command you to do so. I am very fond of the Bay of Naples," he said gravely.
​"You'd better," cautioned Fen; "he's a very powerful Djinn. If you don't do what he says, he might magic you."
"I might," said Siddereticus.
"Dear me, I certainly don't want to be magicked," cried Auntie, "though I do not like to have Djinns carrying off my perfectly lovely pictures without so much as saying 'by your leave'!"
Siddereticus raised his hand and chanted:
"May the Four Ends of the Earth prosper you, and may you sail the Seven Seas in safety evermore. I, Siddereticus, say it—nor shall I forget this that you have done. Anno Mundi—Ante Meridian—Ad Infinitem."
Whereupon Cynthia swept him a deep curtsey, looked him square in the face, and said gravely:
"Signor Siddereticus, the pleasure is mine. De gustibus non est disputandum. ​Nunc aut nunquam. Hocus pocus 'issimo, Signor illustrissimo."
Having uttered these statements, she handed him the picture, while Fen sat entranced to hear his aunt talking such excellent magic.
It might have been observed that Cynthia became even more willing than before to stay on the yacht with Fen while the others went ashore. As for Fen, he was perfectly content to have Auntie and Siddereticus near him, even though they sometimes interrupted the tales they told him to converse together in Italian.
"We mustn't, Signor Siddereticus," protested Cynthia; "we're neglecting my dearest nephew," and she bent to kiss Fen. As Siddereticus happened to do the same thing at the same moment, her hair brushed his cheek, and they straightened up suddenly, laughing.
The portrait of Fen hung in the little ​cabin of Thornton's yawl, where he very often looked at it.
"His eyes—her eyes—which are they?" he murmured, as he stood before it. "Hers are all joy, and tenderness, and sympathy, and dancing light; and his are wistful and eager, with pain stamped deep under their happiness and their bravery. She's caught that wonderfully, but she has painted herself into it, too."