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He saw
Hermione involved in that tumult, and he saw himself. And Vere?
Was it possible that in certain circumstances Vere might hate him? It
was strange that to-night Artois found himself for the first time
considering the Marchesino seriously, not as a boy, but as a man who
perhaps knew something of the world and of character better than he
did. The Marchesino had said:
"If she understood you--how she would hate you."
But surely Vere and he understood each other very well.
He looked out over the sea steadily, as he wished, as he meant, to
look now at himself, into his own heart and nature, into his own life.
Upon the sea, to the right and far off, a light was moving near the
blackness of the breakwater. It was the torch of a fisherman--one of
those eyes of the South of which Artois had thought. His eyes became
fascinated by it, and he watched it with intensity. Sometimes it was
still. Then it travelled gently onward, coming towards him. Then it
stopped again. Fire--the fire of youth.


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