He took it and bowed over it and let it go. The girl turned and ran lightly up-stairs.
Directly she was gone the Marchesino said to Hermione:
"Pardon me, Signora, I--I--"
He hesitated. His self-possession seemed to have deserted him for the moment. He looked at Hermione swiftly, searchingly, then dropped his eyes.
"What is it, Marchese?" she asked, wondering what was the matter with him.
He still hesitated. Evidently he was much disturbed. At last he said again:
"Pardon me, Signora. I--as you know, I am Neapolitan. I have always lived in Naples."
"Yes, I know."
"I know Naples like my pocket--"
He broke off.
Hermione waited for him to go on. She had no idea what was coming.
"Yes?" she said, at length to help him.
"Excuse me, Signora! But that girl--that girl who pa.s.sed by just now--"
"My servant, Peppina."
He stared at her.
"Your servant, Signora?"
"Yes."
"Do you know what she is, where she comes from? But no, it is impossible."
"I know all about Peppina, Marchese," Hermione replied, quietly.
"Truly? Ah!"
His large round eyes were still fixedly staring at her.
"Good-bye, Signora!" he said. "Thank you for a very charming colazione.
And I shall look forward with all my heart to the evening you have kindly suggested."
"I shall write directly I have arranged with Don Emilio."
"Thank you! Thank you! A rivederci, Signora."
He cast upon her one more gravely staring look, and was gone.
When he was outside and alone, he threw up his hands and talked to himself for a moment, uttering many exclamations. In truth, he was utterly amazed. Maria Fortunata had spread abroad diligently the fame of her niece"s beauty, and the Marchesino, like the rest of the gay young men of Naples, had known of and had misjudged her. He had read in the papers of the violence done to her, and had at once dismissed her from his mind with a muttered "Povera Ragazza!"
She was no longer beautiful.
And now he discovered her living as a servant with the ladies of the island. Who could have put her there? He thought of Emilio"s colloquy with Maria Fortunata. But the Signora? A mother? What did it all mean?
Even the madness of the English could scarcely be so p.r.o.nounced as to make such a proceeding as this quite a commonplace manifestation of the national life and eccentricity. He could not believe that.
He stepped into his boat. As the sailors rowed it out from the Pool--the wind had gone down and the sails were useless--he looked earnestly up to the windows of the Casa del Mare, longing to pierce its secrets.
What was Emilio in that house? A lover, a friend, a bad genius? And the Signora? What was she?
The Marchesino was no believer in the virtue of women. But the lack of beauty in Hermione, and her age, rendered him very doubtful as to her role in the life on the island. Vere"s gay simplicity had jumped to the eyes. But now she, too, was becoming something of a mystery.
He traced it all to Emilio, and was hot with a curiosity that was linked closely with his pa.s.sion.
Should he go to see Emilio? He considered the question and resolved not to do so. He would try to be patient until the night of the dinner on the island. He would be birbante, would play the fox, as Emilio surely had done. The Panacci temper should find out that one member of the family could control it, when such control served his purpose.
He was on fire with a l.u.s.t for action as he made his resolutions. Vere"s coolness to him, even avoidance of him, had struck hammer-like blows upon his _amour propre_. He saw her now--yes, he saw her--coming down the stairs behind Peppina. Had they been together? Did they talk together, the cold, the prudish Signorina Inglese--so he called Vere now in his anger--and the former decoy of Maria Fortunata?
And then a horrible conception of Emilio"s role in all this darted into his mind, and for a moment he thought of Hermione as a blind innocent, like his subservient mother, of Vere as a preordained victim. Then the blood coursed through his veins like fire, and he felt as if he could no longer sit still in the boat.
"Avanti! avanti!" he cried to the sailors. "Dio mio! There is enough breeze to sail. Run up the sail! Madonna Santissima! We shall not be to Naples till it is night. Avanti! avanti!"
Then he lay back, crossed his arms behind his head, and, with an effort, closed his eyes.
He was determined to be calm, not to let himself go. He put his fingers on his pulse.
"That cursed fever! I believe it is coming back," he said to himself.
He wondered how soon the Signora would arrange that dinner on the island. He did not feel as if he could wait long without seeing Vere again. But would it ever be possible to see her alone? Emilio saw her alone. His white hairs brought him privileges. He might take her out upon the sea.
The Marchesino still had his fingers on his pulse. Surely it was fluttering very strangely. Like many young Italians he was a mixture of fearlessness and weakness, of boldness and childishness.
"I must go to mamma! I must have medicine--the doctor," he thought, anxiously. "There is something wrong with me. Perhaps I have been looked on by the evil eye."
And down he went to the bottom of a gulf of depression.
CHAPTER XXII
Hermione was very thankful that the Marchesino had gone. She felt that the lunch had been a failure, and was sorry. But she had done her best.
Vere and the young man himself had frustrated her, she thought. It was a bore having to entertain any one in the hot weather. As she went up-stairs she said to herself that her guest"s addio had been the final fiasco of an unfortunate morning. Evidently he knew something of Peppina, and had been shocked to find the girl in the house. Emile had told her--Hermione--that she was an impulsive. Had she acted foolishly in taking Peppina? She had been governed in the matter by her heart, in which dwelt pity and a pa.s.sion for justice. Surely the sense of compa.s.sion, the love of fair dealing could not lead one far astray. And yet, since Peppina had been on the island the peace of the life there had been lessened. Emile had become a little different, Vere too. And even Gaspare--was there not some change in him?
She thought of Giulia"s a.s.sertion that the disfigured girl had the evil eye.
She had laughed at the idea, and had spoken very seriously to Giulia, telling her that she was not to communicate her foolish suspicion to the other servants. But certainly the joy of their life in this House of the Sea was not what it had been. And even Vere had had forebodings with which Peppina had been connected. Perhaps the air of Italy, this clear, this radiant atmosphere which seemed created to be the environment of happiness, contained some subtle poison that was working in them all, turning them from cool reason.
She thought of Emile, calling up before her his big frame his powerful face with the steady eyes. And a wave of depression went over her, as she understood how very much she had relied on him since the death of Maurice. Without him she would indeed have been a derelict.