I turned to the landlord. "How much to pay?" I asked.
"What you will, amico" he replied--"I am never hard on the fisher folk--but times are bad, or you would be welcome to a breakfast for nothing. Many and many a day have I done as much for men of your craft, and the blessed Cipriano who is gone used to say that St. Peter would remember me for it. It is true the Madonna gives a special blessing if one looks after the fishers, because all the holy apostles were of the trade; and I would be loth to lose her protection--yet-"
I laughed and tossed him a franc. He pocketed it at once and his eyes twinkled.
"Though you have not taken half a franc's worth," he admitted, with an honesty very unusual in a Neapolitan--"but the saints will make it up to you, never fear!"
"I am sure of that!" I said, gayly. "Addio, my friend! Prosperity to you and our Lady's favor!"
This salutation, which I knew to be a common one with Sicilian mariners, the good Pietro responded to with amiable heartiness, wishing me luck on my next voyage. He then betook himself anew to the polishing of his glasses--and I passed the rest of the day in strolling about the least frequented streets of the city, and longing impatiently for the crimson glory of the sunset, which, like a wide flag of triumph, was to be the signal of my safe return to love and happiness.