howed a certain force.

"I do not understand, Signora. I am like other men. What is the matter
with me?"

He turned a little in his chair so that he faced her more fully.

"What is the matter with me, Signora?" he repeated, slightly raising his
voice.

"I don't think you would be able to understand if I tried to tell you."

"Why not? You think me stupid, then?"

An angry fire shone in his eyes.

"Oh no, you are not stupid."

"Then I shall understand."

Hermione hesitated. There was within her a hot impulse towards speech,
towards the telling to this self-satisfied young Pagan her exact opinion
of him. Yet was it worth while? He was going out of their lives. They
would see no more of him.

"I don't think it is necessary for me to tell you," she said.

"Perhaps there is nothing to tell because there is nothing the matter
with me."

His tone stung her.

"I beg your pardon, Marchese. I think there is a good deal to tell."

"All I say is, Signora, that I am like other men."

He thrust forward his strong under jaw, showing his big, white teeth.

"There I don't agree with you. I am thankful to say I know many men who
would not behave as you behaved last night."

"But I have come to ask for the Signorina's hand!" he exclaimed.

"And you think--you dare to think that excuses your conduct!"

She spoke with a sudden and intense heat.

"Understand this, please, Marchese. If I gave my consent to your
request, and sent for my daughter--"

"Si! Si!" he said, eagerly, leaning forward in his chair.

"Do you suppose she would come near you?"

"Certainly."

"You think she would come near a man she will not even speak of?"

"What!"

"She won't speak of you. She has told me nothing about last night. That
is why I know so much."

"She has not--the Signorina has--not--?"

He stopped. A smile went over his face. It was sufficiently obvious that
he understood Vere's silence as merely a form of deceit, a coquettish
girl's cold secret from her mother.

"Signora, give me permission to speak to your daughter, and you will see
whether it is you--or I--who understands her best."

"Very well, Marchese."

Hermione rang the bell. It was answered by Gaspare.

"Gaspare," said Hermione, "please go to the Signorina, tell her the
Signor Marchese is here, and wishes very much to see her before he
goes."

Gaspare's face grew dark, and he hesitated by the door.

"Go, Gaspare, please."

He looked into his Padrona's