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"I don't know that there is any real reason why you should not. But my instinct was against the acquaintance. Where can Vere be? Does she often come out alone at night?" "Very often. Ah! There she is, beyond the bridge, and is that the Marchesino Panacci with her? Why no, it's " "It is Ruffo," Artois said.
"The knowledge of this budding talent of Vere's made me take a new interest in her, made me wish very much at least I thought, I believed it was that, Hermione that no disturbing influence should come into her life. Isidoro Panacci came through me. Peppina came through you.
He remembered how vexed he had been when Hermione told him of the engagement for the evening. He remembered the moments after the dinner, his sensation of loneliness when he listened to the gay conversation of Vere and the Marchesino, his almost irritable anxiety when she had left the restaurant and gone out to the terrace in the darkness. He had felt angry with Panacci then.
As he did so Vere came out of the house, her hands full of Khali Targa cigarettes, her face eager at the thought of giving pleasure to Ruffo. "This is my daughter, Vere," Hermione said. "Vere, this is the Marchese Isidoro Panacci, a friend of Monsieur Emile's." The Marchesino went to kiss Vere's hand, but she said: "I'm very sorry look!"
The Padrone approached aristocratically. "The Marchese Isidoro Panacci is here dining with friends, the Duca di " "Yes, yes. But I am only here for a moment, so it is not worth while to tell the Marchese." "You are not going to dine, Signora! The food of Frisio does not please you!" He cast up his eyes in deep distress. "Indeed it does. But I have dined.
Emilio had called him "Panacci." That sounded almost like a declaration of war. Well, he was ready. At dinner his had been the triumph, and Emilio knew it. He meant his triumph to be a greater one before the evening was over.
I would rather exaggerate than minimize my own shortcomings to you to-night. I scarcely believe it ever could have been so. But Panacci said it was so. And you I don't know what you have thought " "What I have thought doesn't matter now." She spoke very quietly, but not with bitterness. She knew Artois.
The waiter departed, and returned to say that no one had been for the Signore. "Not the Marchese Isidoro Panacci? "The concierge says that no one has been, Signore." "Va bene." The man went out. So Doro had not come even once! Perhaps he was seriously offended. At their last parting in the Villa he had shown a certain irony that had in it a hint of bitterness.
He took the out-stretched hand, grasped it violently, and went away. Artois shut the sitting-room door and went towards Hermione. "You are staying?" she said. By her intonation he could not tell whether she was glad or almost angrily astonished. "They may come here immediately," he said. "I wish to see Panacci when he comes." She looked at him quickly. "It must be an accident," she said.
But to-night, directly he spoke to Artois, his natural humor seemed to return. He explained his illness, which accounted for his not having come as usual to see his friend, and drew a humorous picture of a Panacci in a bed surrounded by terror-stricken nurses. "And you, Emilio, what have you been doing?" he concluded. "Working," said Artois.
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