replied, "but, Heaven be praised, you are safe!"
"News of me!" cried Master Andrea in a voice of thunder. News, indeed! Are you gone mad, to come out in such weather merely to ask how I am."
"Pardon us, but you did not light the lamps last night, and at Roccamarina people were beginning to fear something had gone wrong."
At this point Master Andrea, who had not moved, and was solely occupied in pulling his long, black beard, should have assisted his friends to come in; but he hesitated, and at length came slowly forward, and with very bad grace and undisguised ill-humour helped them to land.
"So I did not light the lamp!" he growled. "That is not true; but even if it were, is it not allowable to forget for once? Suppose that I were ill, for instance. As for the rest, you are welcome to think what you please; I won't be troubled with you."
"He followed the retreating boat with his eyes."
The two good seamen of Roccamarina were perfectly dumb-founded at this welcome. However, from motives of prudence, they made no reply to Master Andrea. But when he added, "It will be better for you to return home; I have no need of you," they both resented his language.
"We shall not return at once," they said, in a loud voice. "If you are so determined to order us away, we prefer to rest a while and warm ourselves at a good fire, and drink a good draught of wine before we return."
So saying, they resolutely leaped on to the rock, fastened their boat, and entered the little room which served Master Andrea as a kitchen. The latter slowly began to light a small fire, then drew out a bottle of wine, uncorked it, and set it down on the table with two glasses, without uttering a word.
In silence the bottle was drank, the seamen warmed themselves as well as they could while the bits of fire lasted, and then, exchanging a few words in a low tone, they both rose to go, merely observing aloud that the sea had calmed down.
Whilst they withdrew, muttering that Master Andrea was the grumpiest being in the world, and that it was only losing their time to trouble about him, the keeper of the lighthouse stood on the farthest point of the rock, and followed the retreating boat with his eyes. He was well pleased with himself, and perfectly satisfied, and he pulled vigorously at his great black beard, whilst a malicious smile passed across his countenance.
"So, so!" he said to himself. "So they think I am incapable! But what do I care what they think? I have succeeded in my scheme, and that is enough."
When the boat was well out of sight he descended the stairs, quickly lifted the latch of his bedroom, gently opened the door, and stopped to listen attentively.
