"I can't look forward in this weather," she said. "I think it's almost
wicked to. Oh, let us live in the moment, Madre, and pretend it will
be always summer, and that we shall always be living in our Casa del
Mare!"
There was a sound of eager youth in her voice as she spoke, and her
eyes suddenly shone. The Marchesino looked at her with an admiration
he did not try to conceal.
"You love the sea, Signorina?" he asked.
But Vere's enthusiasm abruptly vanished, as if she feared that he
might destroy its completeness by trying to share it.
"Oh yes," she said. "We all do here; Madre, Gaspare, Monsieur Emile--
everybody."
It was the first time the name of Artois had been mentioned among them
that day. The Marchesino's full red lips tightened over his large
white teeth.
"I have not seen Signor Emilio for some days," he said.
"Nor have we," said Vere, with a touch of childish discontent.
He looked at her closely.
Emilio--he knew all about Emilio. But the Signorina? What were her
feelings towards the "vecchio briccone"? He did not understand the
situation, because he did not understand precisely the nature of
madness of the English.
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