The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1891-08-18
LIN THE SHADOW OF vEsUvIUs.

Were you ever in Naples, with its strag-
Cling, uneven streets, its tumble of pal
aces and novels, its foul prisons, its taw-
dry theaters, it's beggars asleep in door
ways or demanding aims from tourists,
its galley slaves, its fishermen, its ceme-
terry and its long stretch of seashoref
Where, across the CLASSY bay, Vesuvius,
under its canopy of smoke, is muttering
fiery threats from its parched throat, at
the same time interposlng its shadow be-
tween the fierce rays OF the MONDAY sun
and the painting city nesting at its teetf
Where the very thieves and lazzaronl, Wild
and uncouth, perhaps, still have pictur-
esuue character of their own that seems
the natural result of their romantic sur
roundings?
When | went to Naples some years since
| soon fell into the ways of the place.
listened to the opera at San Carlo, l
strolled in the cool of the evening in the
public gardens, enjoyed moonlight boat
rides on the bay, and at last-I gambled.
Not to any serious extent, but still ! gam
bled. The national game of morra-in
which tongue and eye contest, and in
which the only implements required are
the respective ten fingers of each player
fascinated me.
There was a certain little inn in retired
quarter of the city which had accidental
ly stumbled upon one evening, where the
game was in noisy progress among half
dozen couples. At the invitation of a
bright, pretty girl took lesson in the
game Her brown, plump hand, glisten-
ing with heavy gold rings, flashed before
my eyes, now with all fingers outspread,
now with one, two or three extended, while
l put up my own fingers and vainly tried
to call the aggregate number. We played
for several hours, during which l called
for-and paid for-innumerable bottles of
thin red wine which the stalwart fisher
men, who were the principal patrons of
the house, consumed with much relish.
The bottles of wine were the stakes for
which we played, and if my opponent, Mar
celia, ever lost it is certain the pay for the
wine always came from my pocket.
But what did / carer Marcella's dark
eyes, demurely shaded by long lashes,
| looked into mine from time to time with
an expression that to young man of
! twenty-five is ndoubtedly flattering. She
was evidently interested in me, while
her high above the commonplace plane to
which she belonged, and browning her in
my imagination as one of Italy's fairest
and noblest daughters Pretty she was,
undeniablY. Her 1.-the figure bent from
side to side with easy southern grace, and
she threw out her fingers in the game and
uttered a number in her soft, native
tongue. She was to me the ideal Neapoli-
tan maiden, and l cared no more for the
! few francs ! had lost than for the dark,
scowling visage of the young fisherman
sitting in a corner apart and regarding me
with an evil eye as he slowly drank his
| bottle of wine.
The next evening l was again at the inn,
to renew my acquaintance with Marcella
and try my fortune with her at mora once
more But | was too late. The game was
/ in full swing, as usual but the dark Wis
aged young fisherman was engaging Mar
cella's attention, and the two were throw
/ ing up their fingers at each other in ap-
/ parent oblivion of everything save their
own game. | called for some wine and sat
watching them, after being gratified by a
nod and a smile from the girl. | was
obliged to admit that the young fisherman,
whom Marcella Familiarity addressed as
"Pietro," was handsome fellow. His
clear cut features-the nose trifle too thin,
perhaps-the high, smooth forehead, the
swarthy cheeks, the black mustache shad-
/ ing the well shaped mouth, and the large,
glittering eyes were all of the most pro-
nounced Italian type. His dress was that
of prosperous fisherman on gala occa-
sion; striped shirt open TO the throat, with
a black silk handkerchief tied loosely
around, knee breeches, thick wooden stock
! ings and heavy shoes.
On his head he wore a large soft hat,
while at his waist was a red sash, from
which fancied | could see the handle of a
! knife peeping as he moved. As / entered
he favored me with a scowl, of which, how
ever, took no notice as l carelessly seated
myself He was evidently Marcella's lover
and he was Just as evidently very jealous
of every word she spoke to any one else.
Al the end of half an hour Marcella said
"Pietro, am tired. | will not play any
/ longer" Then she turned her back upon
him and walked over TO me. She accepted
the glass of wine I offered. chuked il
sgainst mine and cast down her eyes with
delighted modesty as paid her some con
ventional compliment.
"Maroella, when are we to play morris
again2' / asked.
"Now, If you please. Comet"
She threw up her hands ! accepted the
challenge, glancing toward Pietro as did
so. His eyes were fixed upon me with 8
stare that became almost fierce IN its in
tenslty.
You are an smiable looking object.
thought l. Guess you don't like being
cut out by an American"
| saw Pietro walk quietly out of the
room, and soon | forgot about him as
yielded to the charms Of Marcella's sweet
voice and her no less sweet glances.
Twas turning toward the door. some two
hours later, with my pockets a good dea
lighter aud my heart in a fiame-for Mar
celia had put the finishing touch 10 my in
fatuation by allowing me to kiss her full
warm lips as she whispered, "Addior'-
when Pietro stalked into the room. n,
bestowed look of hatred upon me ant
placed his hand heavily upon Marcellat
plump shoulder, whispering a word in be
ear.
She drew back with a start. the color tsd
Ing from her cheek
"Pietror'
"Quicki come from the societyi" wa
his response, as be held out his open hand
But Pietro"-
PAY he Kissed