Still San Miniato went on with his calculations.
Before many minutes more had passed, a trim young figure appeared in the path--a young girl, with pink cheeks and bright dark eyes, no other than Teresina, the Marchesa's maid.

She carried some sewing in her hand and looked nervously behind her and to the right and left as she walked.

But there was no one in the garden at that hour.

The guests of the hotel were all at breakfast, and the servants were either asleep or at work indoors.

The porter was at his dinner and the sailors were presumably eating their midday bread and cheese down by the boats, or dining at their homes if they lived near by.