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All I can say is that it was the great effort of my life. Being a military man, I have had on various occasions to face time enemy. But it was not then I needed my resolution; it was when I left Florence in a post-chaise." Stanmer turned about the room two or three times, and then he said: "I don't understand! I don't understand why she should have told you that Camerino had killed her husband.
But after a little, I should have been grateful I should have felt that he was helping me." "You seem to have been very well able to help yourself," said Stanmer. "You tell me you made your escape." "Yes, but it was at the cost of infinite perplexity of what I may call keen suffering. I should like to save you all that." "I can only repeat it is really very kind of you."
At this Stanmer got up and walked to the window; he stood looking out a moment, and then he turned round. "You know she was older than I," I went on. "Madame Scarabelli is older than you. One day in the garden, her mother asked me in an angry tone why I disliked Camerino; for I had been at no pains to conceal my feeling about him, and something had just happened to bring it out.
So long as he consented, it was of course in Camerino's interest not to contradict it, as it left him much more free to keep up his intimacy with the Countess." Stanmer had listened to all this with extreme attention. "Why didn't she contradict it?" I shrugged my shoulders. "I am bound to believe it was for the same reason. I was horrified, at any rate, by the whole story.
I immediately set out, with the intention of rendering service to the variety of wretches that were pouring in upon our coast, English and French, but on my way called at Stanmer, where I found that this famous Minister of War was gone forward to London, that the few ship-loads that had got over to Newhaven were disposed of, and an embargo having been laid on the Ports of France, of course there was nothing more to be done on our coast.
"Your real reason is that you feel you have no case against the poor lady," said Stanmer. "You admire her as much as I do." "I just admitted that I admired her. I never said she was a vulgar flirt; her mother was an absolutely scientific one. Heaven knows I admired that!
"I know what you want," I said to Stanmer. "You want to know what the Signora Contessa says about you." Stanmer looked straight into her face, very gravely. "I don't care a straw what she says." "You are almost a match for the Signora Contessa," I answered. "She declares she doesn't care a pin's head what you think." "I recognise the Countess's style!" Stanmer exclaimed, turning away.
"Florence pleases me and I take a paternal interest to our young friend," I added, glancing at Stanmer. "I have become very fond of him." "Bel tipo inglese," said my hostess. "And he is very intelligent; he has a beautiful mind." She stood there resting her smile and her clear, expressive eyes upon me.
"Ah, the pictures are beautiful," murmured the Countess, glancing at Stanmer. "Have you lately looked at any of them?" I asked. "Have you gone to the galleries with him?" She hesitated a moment, smiling. "It seems to me that your question is a little impertinent. But I think you are like that." "A little impertinent? Never.
Besides," he added in a moment, "the Countess knows your state of mind." "Has she told you so?" Stanmer hesitated. "She has begged me to listen to everything you may say against her. She declares that she has a good conscience." "Ah," said I, "she's an accomplished woman!" And it is indeed very clever of her to take that tone.
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