l Mare, the
Marchesino did not know what to think of its Padrona. And now he was
too reckless to care. He only knew that he was in love, and that
circumstances so far had fought against him. He only knew that he had
been tricked, and that he meant to trick Emilio in return. His anxiety
to revenge himself on Emilio was quite as keen as his desire to be alone
with Vere. The natural devilry of his temperament, a boy's devilry, not
really wicked, but compounded of sensuality, vanity, the passion for
conquest, and the determination to hold his own against other males and
to shine in his world's esteem, was augmented by the abstinence from his
usual life. The few days in the house seemed to him a lifetime already
wasted. He meant to make up for it, and he did not care at whose
expense, so long as some of the debt was paid by Emilio.

On the sixteenth he issued forth into life again in a mood that was
dangerous. The fever that had abandoned his body was raging in his
mind. He was in the temper which had governed his papa on the day of the
slapping of Signora Merani's face in the Chiaia.

The Marchesino always thought a great deal about his personal
appearance, but his toilet on the night of the sixteenth was unusually
prolonged. On several matters connected with it he was undecided. Should
he wear a waistcoat of white pique or one of black silk? Should he put
on a white tie, or a black? And what about rings?

He loved jewelry, as do most Neapolitans, both male and female, and had
quantities of gaudy rings, studs, sleeve links, and waistcoat buttons.
In his present mood he was inclined to adorn himself with as many of
them as possible. But he was not sure whether the English liked diamonds
and rubies on a man. He hesitated long, made many changes, and looked
many times in the glass. At last he decided on a black tie, a white
waistcoat with pearl buttons, a pearl shirt-stud surrounded with
diamonds, pearl and diamond sleeve-links, and only three rings--a gold
snake, a seal ring, and a ring set with turquoises. This was a modest
toilet, suited, surely to the taste to the English, which he remembered
to have heard of as sober.

He stood long before the mirror when he was ready, and had poured over
his handkerchief a libation of "Rose d'amour."

Certainly he was a fine-looking fellow--his natural sincerity obliged
him to acknowledge it. Possibly his nose stuck out too much to balance
perfectly the low forehead and the rather s