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Again she
looked in the glass and gave a pat to her hair. And just as she was
doing it she thought of that day after the bathe, when Gaspare had
come to tell her that Monsieur Emile was waiting for her. She had run
down, then, just as she was, and now--
"Mamma mia! Am I getting vain!" she said to herself.
And she turned from the glass, and reluctantly went to meet their
guest.
She had said to herself that it was a bore having the Marchesino to
lunch, that he was uninteresting, frivolous, empty-headed. But
directly she set eyes upon him, as he stood in the drawing-room by her
mother, she felt a change in him. What had happened to him? She could
not tell. But she was conscious that he seemed much more definite,
much more of a personage, than he had seemed to her before. Even his
face looked different, though paler, stronger. She was aware of
surprise.
The Marchesino, too, though much less instinctively observant than
Vere, noted a change in her. She looked more developed, more grown up.


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