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I've made--actually--an engagement
for this evening."
Artois and Vere held up their hands in exaggerated surprise.
"Are you mad, my dear Hermione?" asked Artois.
"I believe I am. It's dangerous to go to Naples. I met a young man."
"The Marchesino!" cried Vere. "The Marchesino! I see him in your eye,
Madre."
"C'est cela!" said Artois, "and you mean to say--!"
"That I accepted an invitation to dine with him to-night, at nine, at
the Scoglio di Frisio. There! Why did I? I have no idea. I was hot from
a horrible vicolo. He was cool from the sea. What chance had I against
him? And then he is through and through Neapolitan, and gives no
quarter to a woman, even when she is 'una vecchia.' "
As she finished Hermione broke into a laugh, evidently at some
recollection.
"Doro made his eyes very round. I can see that," said Artois.
"Like this!" cried Vere.
And suddenly there appeared in her face a reminiscence of the face of
the Marchesino.
"Vere, you must not! Some day you will do it by accident when he is
here.


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