r
of emotion in which reason was drowned, had not been herself.

But now she felt that she was herself.

There was something that she wished to know, something that the
knowledge she had gained in her child's room that day suggested as a
possibility.

She regretted her note to Emile. Why had not she asked him to come
alone, to-morrow, or even to-night--yes, to-night?

If she could only be with him and Vere for a few minutes to-night!

CHAPTER XXIII

When Artois received Hermione's letter he asked who had brought it, and
obtained from the waiter a fairly accurate description of Gaspare.

"Please ask him to come up," he said. "I want to speak to him."

Two or three minutes later there was a knock at the door and Gaspare
walked in, with a large-eyed inquiring look.

"Good-day, Gaspare. You've never seen my quarters before, I think," said
Artois, cordially.

"No, Signore. What a beautiful room!"

"Then smoke a cigar, and I'll write an answer to this letter."

"Thank you, Signore."

Artois gave him a cigar, and sat down to answer the letter, while
Gaspare went out on to the balcony and stood looking at the bathers who
were diving from the high wooden platform of the bath establishment over
the way. When Artois had finished writing he joined Gaspare. He had a
great wish that day to break down a reserve he had respected for
many years, but he knew Gaspare's determined character, his power of
obstinate, of dogged silence. Gaspare's will had been strong when he
was a boy. The passing of the years had certainly not weakened it.
Nevertheless, Artois was moved to make the attempt which he foresaw
would probably end in failure.

He gave Gaspare the letter, and said:

"Don't go for a moment. I want to have a little talk with you."

"Si, Signore."

Gaspare put the letter into the inner pocket of his jacket, and stood
looking at Artois, holding the cigar in his left hand. In all these
years Artois had never found out whether Gaspare liked him or not. He
wished now that he knew.

"Gaspare," he said, "I think you know that I have a great regard for
your Padrona."

"Si, Signore. I know it."

The words sounded rather cold.

"She has had a great deal of sorrow to bear."

"Si, Signore."

"One does not wish that she should be disturbed in any way--that any
fresh trouble should come into her life."

Gaspare's eyes were always fixed steadily upon Artois, who, as he spoke
the last words, fancied he saw come i