which looked abandoned, a strip of
black cloth. Above it were the words, "Lutto in famiglia."

That was years ago. Yet now he saw again the palace door, the strip
of cloth soaked by the pouring rain, the dreary, almost sinister words
which he had read by lightning:

"Lutto in famiglia."

He repeated them as he gazed at the blackness above Ischia.

"Monsieur Emile!"

"Vere!"

The girl came towards him, a white contrast to what he had been
watching.

"I'm all ready. It seems so strange to be going out to a sort of party.
I've had such a bother with my hair."

"You have conquered," he said. "Undine has disappeared."

"What?"

"Come quite close to the lamp."

She came obediently.

"Vere transformed!" he said. "I have seen three Veres to-day already.
How many more will greet me to-night?"

She laughed gently, standing quite still. Her dress and her gloves were
white, but she had on a small black hat, very French, and at the back of
her hair there was a broad black ribbon tied in a big bow. This ribbon
marked her exact age clearly, he thought.

"This is a new frock, and my very smartest," she said; "and you dared to
abuse Paris!"

"Being a man. I must retract now. You are right, we cannot do without
it. But--have you an umbrella?"

"An umbrella?"

She moved and laughed again, much more gayly.

"I am serious. Come here and look at Ischia."

She went with him quickly to the window.

"That blackness does look wicked. But it's a long way off."

"I think it is coming this way."

"Oh, but"--and she went to the opposite window--"the sky is perfectly
clear towards Naples. And look how still the sea is."

"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?"

"Get your umbrella, Vere, and a waterproof. You will want them both."

At that moment Hermione came in.

"Madre, the launch is coming in a frightful hurry, and Monsieur Emile
says we must take umbrellas."

"Surely it isn't going to rain?"

"There is a thunder-storm coming up from Ischia, I believe," said
Artois.

"Then we will take our cloaks in case. It is fearfully hot. I thought so
when I w