A Spirit in Prison | Page 3

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Etext prepared by Dagny, [email protected] Emma Dudding,
[email protected] and John Bickers, [email protected]
PREPARERS' NOTE
This text was prepared from a 1908 edition, published by Harper &
Brothers, New York and London.

A SPIRIT IN PRISON
by Robert Hichens

A SPIRIT IN PRISON
CHAPTER I
Somewhere, not far off on the still sea that held the tiny islet in a warm
embrace, a boy's voice was singing "Napoli Bella."
Vere heard the song as she sat in the sun with her face set towards
Nisida and the distant peak of Ischia; and instinctively she shifted her
position, and turned her head, looking towards the calm and untroubled
water that stretched between her and Naples. For the voice that sang of
the beautiful city was coming towards her from the beautiful city,
hymning the siren it had left perhaps but two hours ago.
On his pedestal set upon rock San Francesco seemed to be attentive to
the voice. He stood beyond the sheltered pool of the sea that divided
the islet from the mainland, staring across at Vere as if he envied her;
he who was rooted in Italy and deprived of her exquisite freedom. His
beard hung down to his waist, his cross protruded over his left shoulder,

and his robe of dusty grayish brown touched his feet, which had never
wandered one step since he was made, and set there to keep watch over
the fishermen who come to sleep under the lee of the island by night.
Now it was brilliant daylight. The sun shone vividly over the Bay of
Naples, over the great and vital city, over Vesuvius, the long line of the
land towards Sorrento, over Capri with its shadowy mountain, and
Posilippo with its tree-guarded villas. And in the sharp radiance of May
the careless voice of the fisher-boy sang the familiar song that Vere had
always known and seldom heeded.
To-day, why she did not know, Vere listened to it attentively.
Something in the sound of the voice caught her attention, roused within
her a sense of sympathy.