to the house, carrying the box with her. Her
movement was so swift and unexpected that Hermione had not time to speak
before she was gone.

"But--"

"I should not smoke another, Signora," said the Marchesino, quickly.

"You are sure?"

"Quite."

"Still, Vere might have left the box. She is inhospitable to-day."

Hermione spoke lightly.

"Oh, it is bad for cigarettes to lie in the sun. It ruins them."

"But you should have filled your case. You must do so before you go."

"Thank you."

His head was buzzing again. The touch of fever had really weakened him.
He knew it now. Never gifted with much self-control, he felt to-day
that, with a very slight incentive, he might lose his head. The new
atmosphere which Vere diffused around her excited him strangely. He
was certain that she was able to understand something of what he was
feeling, that on the night of the storm she would not have been able
to understand. Again he thought of Emilio, and moved restlessly in his
chair, looking sideways at Hermione, then dropping his eyes. Vere did
not come back.

Hermione exerted herself to talk, but the task became really a difficult
one, for the Marchesino looked perpetually towards the house, and so far
forgot himself as to show scarcely even a wavering interest in anything
his hostess said. As the minutes ran by a hot sensation of anger began
to overcome him. A spot of red appeared on each cheek.

Suddenly he got up.

"Signora, you will want to make the siesta. I must not keep you longer."

"No, really; I love sitting out in the garden, and you will find the
glare of the sun intolerable if you go so early."

"On the sea there is always a breeze. Indeed, I must not detain you.
All our ladies sleep after the colazione until the bathing hour. Do not
you?"

"Yes, we lie down. But to-day--"

"You must not break the habit. It is a necessity. My boat will be ready,
and I must thank you for a delightful entertainment."

His round eyes were fierce, but he commanded his voice.

"A rive--"

"I will come with you to the house if you really will not stay a little
longer."

"Perhaps I may come again?" he said, quickly, with a sudden hardness,
a fighting sound in his voice. "One evening in the cool. Or do I bore
you?"

"No; do come."

Hermione felt rather guilty, as if they had been inhospitable, she and
Vere; though, indeed, only Vere was in fault.

"Come and dine one night, and I shall ask Don Emilio."

As she sp