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Well, he was ready. At dinner his had been the
triumph, and Emilio knew it. He meant his triumph to be a greater one
before the evening was over. The reappearance of the gay child in
Vere, grafted upon the comprehending woman whom he had seen looking
out of her eyes on the day of his last visit to the island, had put
the finishing touch to the amorous madness of the Marchesino. He
dreamed Vere an accomplished coquette. He believed that her cruelty on
the night of his serenade, that her coldness and avoidance of him on
the day of the lunch, were means devised to increase his ardor. She
had been using Emilio merely as an instrument. He had been a weapon in
her girlish hands. That was the suitable fate of the old--usefulness.
The Marchesino was in a fever of anticipation. Possibly Vere would
play into his hands when they got to the festa. If not, he must manage
things for himself. The Signora, of course, would make Emilio her
escort. Vere would naturally fall to him, the Marchesino.


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