otion to objects that were worthless, much weakness,
tremendous disappointments."

Hermione said nothing, but sat still looking grave.

"Well? Don't you recognize something of yourself in the catalogue, my
friend?"

"Have I a great facility for illusions? Am I capable of heroic devotion
to worthless objects?"

Suddenly Artois remembered all he knew and she did not know.

"At least you act hastily often," he said evasively. "And I think you
are often so concentrated upon the person who stands, perhaps suffering,
immediately before you, that you forget who is on the right, who is on
the left."

"Emile, I asked your advice yesterday, and you would not give it me."

"A fair hit!" he said. "And so Peppina is here. How did the servants
receive her?"

"I think they were rather surprised. Of course they don't know the
truth."

"They will within--shall we say twenty-four hours, or less?"

"How can they? Peppina won't tell them."

"You are sure? And when Gaspare goes into Naples to 'fare la spesa'?"

"I told Gaspare last night."

"That was wisdom. You understand your watch-dog's character."

"You grant that Gaspare is not an instance of a worthless object made
the recipient of my heroic devotion?"

"Give him all you like," said Artois, with warmth. "You will never
repent of that. Was he angry when you told him?"

"I think he was."

"Why?"

"I heard him saying 'Testa della Madonna!' as he was leaving me."

Artois could not help smiling.

"And Vere?" he said, looking directly at her.

"I have not told Vere anything about Peppina's past," Hermione said,
rather hastily. "I do not intend to. I explained that Peppina had had a
sad life and had been attacked by a man who had fallen in love with her,
and for whom she didn't care."

"And Vere was all sympathy and pity?" said Artois, gently.

"She didn't seem much interested, I thought. She scarcely seemed to be
listening. I don't believe she has seen Peppina yet. When we arrived she
was shut up in her room."

As she spoke she was looking at him, and she saw a slight change come
over his face.

"Do you think--" she began, and paused. "I wonder if she was reading,"
she added, slowly, after a moment.

"Even the children have their secrets," he answered. As he spoke he
turned his head and looked out of the window towards Ischia. "How clear
it is to-night! There will be no storm."

"No. We can dine outside. I have told them." Her voice sounded slightly
cons