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Although Vere was such a child, so
inexperienced, so innocent, so cloistered, he knew at once that he
dared not dash her hopes. It was possible that she might eventually
become what her mother certainly could never be.
But she must not be interfered with. Her connection with the sea must
not be severed. And people were coming into her life--Ruffo, the
Marchesino, and now this wounded girl Peppina.
Artois felt uneasy. He wished Hermione were less generous-hearted,
less impulsive. She looked on him as a guide, a check. He knew that.
But this time he would not exercise his prerogative. Ruffo he did not
mind--at least he thought he did not. The boy was a sea creature. He
might even be an inspiring force to Vere. Something Artois had read
had taught him that. And Ruffo interested him, attracted him too.
But he hated Vere's acquaintance with the Marchesino. He knew that the
Marchesino would make love to her. And the knowledge was odious to
him. Let Vere be loved by the sea, but by no man as yet.


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