t of the watch--reminded Hermione of the
time. She looked at her watch. It was half-past two. On the island they
lunched at half-past twelve. Gaspare must have been waiting for hours.
What did it matter?

She made another determined effort and went down the remaining steps to
the beach.

Gaspare should not know that she knew. She was resolved upon that,
concentrated upon that. Continually she saw in front of her the pouting
mouth, the white teeth of the boy who had laughed at her in the street.
There should be no more crying, no more visible despair. No one should
see any difference in her. All the time that she had been sitting still
in the sun upon the bank she had been fiercely schooling herself in an
act new to her--the act of deception. She had not faced the truth that
to-day she knew. She had not faced the ruin that its knowledge had made
of all that had been sacred and lovely in her life. She had fastened her
whole force fanatically upon that one idea, that one decision and the
effort that was the corollary of it.

"There shall be no difference in me. No one is to know that anything has
happened."

At that moment she was a fanatic. And she looked like one as she came
down upon the sand.

"I'm afraid I'm rather late--Gaspare."

It was difficult to her to say his name. But she said it firmly.

"Signora, it is nearly three o'clock."

"Half-past two. No, I can get in all right."

He had put out his arm to help her into the boat. But she could not
touch him. She knew that. She felt that she would rather die at the
moment than touch or be touched by him.

"You might take away your arm."

He dropped his arm at once.

Had she already betrayed herself?

She got into the boat and he pushed off.

Usually he sat, when he was rowing, so that he might keep his face
towards her. But to-day he stood up to row, turning his back to her. And
this change of conduct made her say to herself again:

"Have I betrayed myself already?"

Fiercely she resolved to be and to do the impossible. It was the only
chance. For Gaspare was difficult to deceive.

"Gaspare!" she said.

"Si, Signora," he replied, without turning his head.

"Can't you row sitting down?"

"If you like, Signora."

"We can talk better then."

"Va bene, Signora."

He turned round and sat down.

The boat was at this moment just off the "Palace of the Spirits."
Hermione saw its shattered walls cruelly lit up by the blazing sun,
its gaping win