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The thunder crashed again just above him, as if it desired to beat down his sickly voice. Artois felt a sharp stab of neuralgia over his eyes. Behind, in the restaurant, the waiters were running over the pavement to shut the great windows. The rush of the rain made a noise like quantities of silk rustling. The Marchesino laughed, quite unabashed.
The Marchesino went to tell the coachman which way to drive to the Carmine. When he had finished he looked at Gaspare and said: "There will be a big crowd. Take care the Signora does not get hurt in it." He laid a slight emphasis on the word "Signora," and put his hand significantly into his waistcoat-pocket. Gaspare regarded him calmly. "Va bene, Signor Marchese," he replied.
"You are fortunate, Signora, in having such a daughter," he said, with a sigh that was boyish. "Yes," Hermione said. That bitter curiosity was still with her, and her voice sounded listless, almost cold. The Marchesino looked up. Ah! Was there something here that he could understand? Something really feminine? A creeping jealousy? He was on the qui vive at once.
In his friend Doro he now discerned a possible enemy. An Italian who has trusted does not easily forgive if he is not trusted in return. Artois was conscious of a dawning hostility in the Marchesino. No doubt he could check it. Doro was essentially good-tempered and light-hearted. He could check it by an exhibition of frankness.
Present me, Emilio! I have presented you to all my friends." "Mio caro, you have made me your debtor for life." "It isn't true!" "Indeed it is true. But I do not know who these ladies are. They may be Italians. They may be tourists. Perhaps to-morrow they will have left Naples. Or they may come from Sorrento, Capri. How can I tell who they are?" The Marchesino suddenly changed. His ardor vanished.
Perhaps the crush will be less when the fire-balloon has gone up." The Marchesino said nothing, and they gained the enclosure, where rows of little chairs stood on the short grass that edges the side of the prison that looks upon the Piazza. Gaspare, who on such occasions was full of energy and singularly adroit, found them good places in a moment. "Ecco, Signora! Ecco, Signorina!"
The faithful servants who had followed him into exile, saw their lands and houses confiscated and divided among the victors. The Count of Ligny's mother occupied the Marchesino Stanga's house, and Trivulzio's triumph over his rivals was complete when he received the Moro's palace of Vigevano and Messer Galeazzo's fair domain of Castel Novo as his share of the spoils.
Artois began laughingly to protest against the last statement, but the Marchesino would not have it. "No, no, it shines I know that, but it is not the sun we have here." He spoke to the seamen in the Neapolitan dialect. They were brown, muscular fellows. In their eyes were the extraordinary boldness and directness of the sea. Neither of them looked gay.
But perhaps you can tell me something." "What is it, Signorino Marchesino?" said the man, looking eagerly at the cigarette case which was now open, and which displayed two tempting rows of fat Egyptian cigarettes reposing side by side. "Do you know a boat white with a green line which sometimes comes into the harbor from the direction of Posilipo? It was here this afternoon, or it passed here.
Artois asked. "Certainly I know her," returned the Marchesino with gravity. They reached Ruffo's boat. As they did so, the Marchesino glanced at it with a certain knowing impudence that was peculiarly Neapolitan. "When I came to the top of the islet the Signorina was with that boy," the Marchesino continued. "Well?" said Artois. "Oh, you need not be angry, Emilio caro."
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