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And the new and vital sense of Hermione's strangeness which was alive
in Artois was met by a feeling in her that was akin to it, only of the
feminine sex.
Their eyes encountered like eyes that say, "What are you?"
After swift greeting they went down-stairs to dine in the public room.
As there were but few people in the house, the large dining-room was
not in use, and their table was laid in the small restaurant that
looks out on the Marina, and was placed close to the window.
"At last we are repeating our /partie carree/ of the Guiseppone," said
Artois, as they sat down.
He felt that as host he must release himself from subtleties and
under-feelings, must stamp down his consciousness of secret inquiries
and of desires or hatreds half-concealed. He spoke cheerfully, even
conventionally.
"Yes, but without the storm," said Hermione, in the same tone. "There
is no feeling of electricity in the air to-night."
Even while she spoke she felt as if she were telling a lie which was
obvious to them all.


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