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Updated: May 19, 2025
Artois wondered if Vere knew who was the singer. She did not leave him long in doubt. "Now's our chance, Monsieur Emile!" she said, suddenly, leaning towards him. "Row to the island for your life, or the Marchesino will catch us!" Without a word he bent to the oars. "How absurd the Marchesino is!" Vere spoke aloud, released from fear. "Absurd? He is Neapolitan." "Very well, then!
"Too still. It is like steel." "Hush! Listen!" She held up her hand. They both heard a far-off sound of busy panting on the sea. "That must be the launch!" she said. Her eyes were gay and expectant. It was evident that she was in high spirits, that she was looking forward to this unusual gayety. "Yes." "Doesn't it sound in a hurry, as if the Marchesino was terribly afraid of being late?"
"Signora," said the Marchesino, drawing on his white gloves, "you still do not trust us? You are still determined to take the watch-dog? It is cruel of you. It shows a great want of faith in Emilio and in me." "Gaspare must come." The Marchesino said no more, only shrugged his shoulders with an air of humorous resignation which hid a real chagrin.
Seeing the amused interest of his guests, the Marchesino encouraged the Padrone to talk, called for his most noted wines, and demanded at dessert a jug of Asti Spumante, with snow in it, and strawberries floating on the top. "You approve of Frisio's, Signorina?" he said, bending towards Vere. "You do not find your evening dull?" The girl shook her head.
He might be alone with the Signorina when he would. The English ladies trusted his white hairs. Or the English ladies did not care for the convenances. Since he had found Peppina in the Casa del Mare, the Marchesino did not know what to think of its Padrona. And now he was too reckless to care. He only knew that he was in love, and that circumstances so far had fought against him.
A distinct reference to Lodovico's wishes on the subject may be found in the paper of directions which he drew up on the 30th of June, 1497, for his minister the Marchesino Stanga. "Memorandum of the things which Messer Marchesino is to do.
Three days after Artois' conversation with Hermione in the Grotto of Virgil the Marchesino Isidoro Panacci came smiling into his friend's apartments in the Hotel Royal des Etrangers.
The Marchesino paid Vere two or three compliments, and she inquired perfunctorily after his health, and expressed regret for his slight illness. "It was only a chill, Signorina. It was nothing." "Perhaps you caught it that night," Vere said. "What night, Signorina?" Vere had been thinking of the night when he sang for her in vain.
How had all this that he had just been telling over in his mind affected her? What had she been thinking of it feeling about it? And Gaspare? Even now Artois did not understand himself, did not know whither his steps might have tended had not the brutality of the Marchesino roused him abruptly to this self-examination, this self-consideration.
Hermione's role in this summer existence puzzled him exceedingly. The natural supposition in a Neapolitan would, of course, have been that Artois was her lover. But when the Marchesino looked at Hermione's eyes he could not tell. What did it all mean? He felt furious at being puzzled, as if he were deliberately duped. "Your cigarette has gone out, Marchese," said Hermione. "Have another."
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