like his subservient mother, of Vere as a preordained victim. Then the
blood coursed through his veins like fire, and he felt as if he could no
longer sit still in the boat.

"Avanti! avanti!" he cried to the sailors. "Dio mio! There is enough
breeze to sail. Run up the sail! Madonna Santissima! We shall not be to
Naples till it is night. Avanti! avanti!"

Then he lay back, crossed his arms behind his head, and, with an effort,
closed his eyes.

He was determined to be calm, not to let himself go. He put his fingers
on his pulse.

"That cursed fever! I believe it is coming back," he said to himself.

He wondered how soon the Signora would arrange that dinner on the
island. He did not feel as if he could wait long without seeing Vere
again. But would it ever be possible to see her alone? Emilio saw her
alone. His white hairs brought him privileges. He might take her out
upon the sea.

The Marchesino still had his fingers on his pulse. Surely it was
fluttering very strangely. Like many young Italians he was a mixture of
fearlessness and weakness, of boldness and childishness.

"I must go to mamma! I must have medicine--the doctor," he thought,
anxiously. "There is something wrong with me. Perhaps I have been looked
on by the evil eye."

And down he went to the bottom of a gulf of depression.

CHAPTER XXII

Hermione was very thankful that the Marchesino had gone. She felt that
the lunch had been a failure, and was sorry. But she had done her best.
Vere and the young man himself had frustrated her, she thought. It was
a bore having to entertain any one in the hot weather. As she went
up-stairs she said to herself that her guest's addio had been the
final fiasco of an unfortunate morning. Evidently he knew something of
Peppina, and had been shocked to find the girl in the house. Emile had
told her--Hermione--that she was an impulsive. Had she acted foolishly
in taking Peppina? She had been governed in the matter by her heart,
in which dwelt pity and a passion for justice. Surely the sense of
compassion, the love of fair dealing could not lead one far astray. And
yet, since Peppina had been on the island the peace of the life there
had been lessened. Emile had become a little different, Vere too. And
even Gaspare--was there not some change in him?

She thought of Giulia's assertion that the disfigured girl had the evil
eye.

She had laughed at the idea, and had spoken very seriously to Giulia,
telling her