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"Good-night," Hermione said.
A glance at Artois had told her much that he was thinking.
"Good-night, Monsieur Emile," said Vere. "Good-night, Marchese. Buona
pesca!"
She turned and followed her mother into the house.
"Che simpatica!"
It was the Marchesino's voice, breathing the words through a sigh:
"Che simpatica Signorina!" Then an idea seemed to occur to him, and he
looked at his friend reproachfully. "And you knew the girl with the
perfect little nose, Emilio--all the time you knew her!"
"And all the time you knew I knew her!" retorted Artois.
They looked at each other in the eyes and burst out laughing.
"Emilio, you are the devil! I will never forgive you. You do not trust
me."
"Caro amico, I do trust you--always to fall in love with every girl
you meet. But"--and his voice changed--"the Signorina is a child.
Remember that, Doro."
They were going down the steps to the sea. Almost as Artois spoke they
reached the bottom, and saw their boat floating in the moonlight
nearly in the centre of the Pool.


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