But I mustn't be selfish about Vere. I mustn't keep her
wrapped in cotton wool. That is unwholesome. And, after all, Vere must
have her life apart from me. Last night I realized that strongly."
"Last night?"
"Yes, from the way in which she treated the Marchese, and later from
something else. Last night Vere showed two sides of a woman's nature--
the capacity to hold her own, what is vulgarly called 'to keep her
distance,' and the capacity to be motherly."
"Was Vere motherly to the Marchesino, then?" asked Artois, not without
irony.
"No--to Ruffo."
"That boy? But where was he last night?"
"When we got back to the island, and the launch had gone off, Vere and
I stood for a minute at the foot of the steps to listen to the roaring
of the sea. Vere loves the sea."
"I know that."
As he spoke he thought of something that Hermione did not know.
"The pool was protected, and under the lee of the island it was
comparatively calm. But the rain was falling in torrents. There was
one fishing-boat in the pool, close to where we were, and as we were
standing and listening, Vere said, suddenly, 'Madre, that's Ruffo's
boat!' I asked her how she knew--because he has changed into another
boat lately--she had told me that.
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