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Two years
they were at Santa Margherita, one year at Sorrento.
Then, sailing one evening on the sea towards Bagnoli, they saw the
house on the islet beyond the Pool of San Francesco. Vere was
enchanted by it.
"To live in it," she exclaimed, "would be almost like living in the
sea!"
Hermione, too, was fascinated by its situation, the loneliness, the
wildness, yet the radiant cheerfulness of it. She made inquiries,
found that it was owned by a Neapolitan who scarcely ever went there,
and eventually succeeded in getting it on a long lease. For two years
now she and Vere had spent the summer there.
Artois had noticed that since Hermione had been in the Casa del Mare
an old desire had begun to revive in her. She spoke more frequently of
Sicily. Often she stood on the rock and looked across the sea, and he
knew that she was thinking of those beloved coasts--of the Ionian
waters, of the blossoming almond-trees among the olives and the rocks,
of the scarlet geraniums glowing among the thorny cactus, of the giant
watercourses leading up into the mountains.


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