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Updated: June 19, 2025
"Towards the islet, Signorino Marchesino," he replied at once, looking his interlocutor full in the face with steady eyes, but remaining perfectly grave. Artois glanced at the man sharply. For the first time it occurred to him that possibly his friend had arranged this expedition with a purpose other than that which he had put forward.
"What is it?" he said. "Why did you write them?" she said. "I had to write something. You made me." "Vere suggested it first." He looked again at Vere, but only for a moment. She was laughing at something the Marchesino was saying. "Did she? Oh! Take some of that salade a la Russe. I gave the chef the recipe for it. Did she?" "Don't you remember?" "Those words were in my head. I put them down."
Gaspare's face had suddenly lighted up. His Padroncina's little hand was holding tightly to his strong arm. "Take care, Signorina. That is water!" "Oh, I was nearly in. I thought " He almost lifted her into the launch, which was rising and falling on the waves. "Madre! What a night!" Vere sank down on the narrow seat of the little cabin. The Marchesino jumped aboard.
But now I sometimes see through it too easily, and want something quieter and a little more mysterious." "The difference between the Marchesino and Monsieur Emile?" said the girl, with a little laugh. Hermione laughed, too. "Do you think Monsieur Emile mysterious?" she asked. "Yes certainly. Don't you?" "I have known him so intimately for so many years." "Well, but that does not change him.
She bent down over the page. "La conscience, c'est la quantite de science innee que nous avons en nous. "Nuit d'orage. Juin." The guitars began a prelude. The blind man shifted from one fat leg to another, cast up his sightless eyes, protruded and drew in his tongue, coughed, spat "Cameriere!" Hermione struck upon the table sharply. She had forgotten all about the Marchesino.
It was Ruffo preparing to go, feeling that he scarcely belonged to this company, although he looked in no way shy, and had been smiling broadly at Vere's narrative of the discomfiture of the Marchesino. "Ruffo," said Hermione, "you must wait a moment." "Si, Signora?" "I am going to give you a few more cigarettes." Vere sent a silent but brilliant "Thank you" to her mother.
The Marchesino turned right round in the little carriage, forgetting his pose. "Davvero? No. I don't believe it. You play with me. You wish to frighten me." "To frighten you! I don't understand what you mean. What can it matter to you? You scarcely know these ladies." The Marchesino pursed his lips together. But he only said, "Si, si." He did not mean to quarrel with Emilio yet.
This time he saw the figures of Vere and Ruffo above him in the moonlight, which now sharply relieved them. He gazed. And as he gazed they moved away from the bridge, going towards the seat where Vere had been before she had seen Ruffo. Vere had on a white dress. The heart of the Marchesino leaped. He was sure it was the girl of the white boat.
And Ruffo interested him, attracted him too. But he hated Vere's acquaintance with the Marchesino. He knew that the Marchesino would make love to her. And the knowledge was odious to him. Let Vere be loved by the sea, but by no man as yet. And this girl, Peppina?
The silliest people of the aristocracy belong to this club, and the Marchesa is the mother goose. Ecco! Will you come, or or have you some appointment?" He smiled in his friend's face. Artois wondered, but could not divine, what was at the back of his mind. "No, I had thought of going on the sea." "Or to the Toledo, perhaps?" The Marchesino laughed happily. "The Toledo? Why should I go there?"
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