you busy?"

"Not specially."

"Will you come with me for a stroll in the Villa? Will you come to see
the gathering together of the geese?"

"Che Diavolo! What's that?"

"This summer the Marchesa Pontini has organized a sort of club, which
meets in the Villa every day except Sundays. Three days the meeting is
in the morning, three days in the afternoon. 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?"

"Non lo so. Put on your chapeau and come. Il fait tres beau cet
apres-midi."

Doro was very proud of his French, which made Artois secretly shiver,
and generally spoke it when he was in specially good spirits, or was
feeling unusually mischievous. As they walked along the sea-front a
moment later, he continued in Italian:

"You were not at the island yesterday, Emilio?"

"No. Were you?"

"I naturally called to know how the ladies were after that terrible
storm. What else could I do?"

"And how were they?"

"The Signora was in Naples, and of course the Signorina could not have
received me alone. But the saints were with me, Emilio. I met her on
the sea; quite by herself, on the sea of the Saint's pool. She was lying
back in a little boat, with no hat on, her hands behind her head--so,
and her eyes--her beautiful eyes, Emilio, were full of dreams, of dreams
of the sea."

"How do you know that?" said Artois, rather sharply.

"Cosa?"

"How do you know the Signorina was dreaming of the sea? Did she--did she
tell you?"

"No, but I am sure. We walked together from the boats. I told her she
was an enchantress of the sea, the spirit of the wave--I told her!"

He spread out his hands, rejoicing in the remembrance of his graceful
compliments.

"The Signorina was delighted, but she could not stay long. She had a
slight headache and was a little tired after the storm. But she would
have liked to ask me to the house. She was longing to. I could see
that."

He seized his mustache.

"She turned her head away, trying to conceal from me her desire, but--"

He laughed.

"Le donne! Le donne!" he happily exclaimed.

Artois found himself wondering why, until