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Updated: June 4, 2025
It was odd, then, having come to this conclusion in the middle of the night, that when he joined the ladies in the morning he should have experienced a sinking pang in not being able any longer to be sure what Miss Dassonville thought of him.
"And you think," said Peter, "she would not have run away?" "I think she shouldn't; when it's done for her." "But isn't that the running away I mean the evidence of her being worth doing it for, of her fineness, of her superior delicacy?" "Well," Miss Dassonville was not disposed to take it lightly, "if a woman has a right to a fineness that's bought at another's expense.
They had only been married a little while then; she is the second Mrs. Dassonville, you know; the first died years ago. I thought her a very lovely lady." "A lovely lady," Peter said the phrase under his breath. The sound of it was like the soft drawing of silken skirts.
It was an ache to him to cut off yards and yards of handsome stuffs at Mr. Greenslet's, and all the longing in the world had not availed to get one of them for his mother. Plainly the mastery of Things was accomplished by being rich; he was on his way to Mr. Dassonville to find out how it was done.
He was aware of an accession of dreariness in the certainty that in his case there never could be a young lady. But Miss Dassonville as she began to walk toward the entrance gave it another turn. "There is always a young lady. The difficulty is that it must be a particular one. No one takes any account of those who were eaten up before the Princess appeared."
However, it made for a great unanimity of opinion as they talked it over on the way home, that, since so much was lacking from Peter's marriage that he had dreamed went to it, and so much more had come into Savilla's than she had dared to imagine, it mattered very little what else was added or left out. "I suppose," suggested Miss Dassonville, "Mrs. Merrithew will think it dreadful."
They came close under and Miss Dassonville hailed in return; as soon as the captain saw her face smiling up at him he beamed on it as the women in the boats had done. "We smelled your breakfast," she explained, and the man laughed delightedly. "I know what kind these Dagoes give ye. Come up and have some." Peter and the girl consulted with their eyes.
He was there between the dark and dawn, and here again in the cool of the garden, to taste the full bitterness of the conviction that he was not good enough to be loved. He was not to be helped from that by the thought, which came hurrying on the heels of the other, that Savilla Dassonville loved him.
They spent so much time in the church that when they issued on the Piazza at last it was with amazement to discern that the cloud mass which an hour before had piled ethereal tones of blueness above Frauli, lit cavernously by soundless flashes, had dissolved in rain. "And I haven't even an umbrella," explained Miss Dassonville with a real dismay.
He experienced a great lift of his spirit in the girl's light acceptance of his whimsicality, it was the sort of thing that Eunice Goodward used to be afraid to have any one hear him say lest they should think it odd. It occurred to him as he turned and walked beside Miss Dassonville that if he had come to Italy with Eunice there might have been a great deal that she would not have liked to hear.
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