ppeal.

And so in those few days between Hermione and the fisher-boy a firm
friendship was established.

And to Hermione this friendship came like a small ray of brightly golden
light, falling gently in a place that was very dark.

CHAPTER XXVIII

When the Marchesino received the invitation of Artois to dine with him
and the ladies from the island on the night of the Festa of the Madonna
del Carmine he was again ill in bed with fever. But nevertheless he
returned an immediate acceptance. Then he called in the family doctor,
and violently demanded to be made well, "perfectly well," by the evening
of the sixteenth. The doctor, who guessed at once that some amorous
adventure was on foot, promised to do his best, and so ingeniously plied
his patient with drugs and potions that on the sixteenth Doro was out
of bed, and busily doing gymnastics to test his strength for the coming
campaign.

Artois' invitation had surprised him. He had lost all faith in his
friend, and at first almost suspected an ambush. Emilio had not invited
him out of love--that was certain. But perhaps the ladies of the island
had desired his presence, his escort. He was a Neapolitan. He knew the
ways of the city. That was probably the truth. They wanted him, and
Emilio had been obliged to ask him.

He saw his opportunity. His fever, coming at such a time, had almost
maddened him, and during the days of forced inaction the Panacci temper
had been vigorously displayed in the home circle. As he lay in bed his
imagination ran riot. The day and the night were filled with thoughts
and dreams of Vere. And always Emilio was near her, presiding over her
doings with a false imitation of the paternal manner.

But now at the last the Marchesino saw his opportunity to strike a blow
at Emilio. Every year of his life since he was a child he had been to
the festa in honor of the Madonna del Carmine. He knew the crowd that
assembled under the prison walls and beneath Nuvolo's tall belfry, the
crowds that overflowed into the gaunt Square of the Mercato and streamed
down the avenues of fire into the narrow side streets. In those crowds
it would be easy to get lost. Emilio, when he heard his friend's voice
singing, had hidden with the Signorina in the darkness of a cave. He
might be alone with the Signorina when he would. The English ladies
trusted his white hairs. Or the English ladies did not care for the
_convenances_. Since he had found Peppina in the Casa de