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The
barman
put
on
a
coat
and
we
went
out
.
We
went
down
and
got
a
boat
and
I
rowed
while
the
barman
sat
in
the
stern
and
let
out
the
line
with
a
spinner
and
a
heavy
sinker
on
the
end
to
troll
for
lake
trout
.
We
rowed
along
the
shore
,
the
barman
holding
the
line
in
his
hand
and
giving
it
occasional
jerks
forward
.
Stresa
looked
very
deserted
from
the
lake
.
There
were
the
long
rows
of
bare
trees
,
the
big
hotels
and
the
closed
villas
.
I
rowed
across
to
Isola
Bella
and
went
close
to
the
walls
,
where
the
water
deepened
sharply
,
and
you
saw
the
rock
wall
slanting
down
in
the
clear
water
,
and
then
up
and
along
to
the
fisherman
’
s
island
.
The
sun
was
under
a
cloud
and
the
water
was
dark
and
smooth
and
very
cold
.
We
did
not
have
a
strike
though
we
saw
some
circles
on
the
water
from
rising
fish
.
I
rowed
up
opposite
the
fisherman
’
s
island
where
there
were
boats
drawn
up
and
men
were
mending
nets
.
"
Should
we
get
a
drink
?
"
"
All
right
.
"
I
brought
the
boat
up
to
the
stone
pier
and
the
barman
pulled
in
the
line
,
coiling
it
on
the
bottom
of
the
boat
and
hooking
the
spinner
on
the
edge
of
the
gunwale
.
I
stepped
out
and
tied
the
boat
.
We
went
into
a
little
café
,
sat
at
a
bare
wooden
table
and
ordered
vermouth
.
"
Are
you
tired
from
rowing
?
"
"
I
’
ll
row
back
,
"
he
said
.
"
I
like
to
row
.
"
"
Maybe
if
you
hold
the
line
it
will
change
the
luck
.
"
"
All
right
.
"
