And again the
latter felt as if he had received a blow. He glanced round him and sat
down, while Gaspare went away. For about five minutes he waited.
When he had arrived at the island he had been greatly excited. He had
felt full of an energy that was feverish. Now, in this silence, in
this pause during which patience was forced upon him, his excitement
grew, became fierce, dominant. He knew from Gaspare's way of speaking,
from his action, from his whole manner, that his fate had been
secretly determined in that house, and that it was being rejoiced
over. At first he sat looking at the floor. Then he got up, went to
the window, came back, stood in the middle of the room and glanced
about it. How pretty it was, with a prettiness that he was quite
unaccustomed to. In his father's villa at Capodimonte there was little
real comfort. And he knew nothing of the cosiness of English houses.
As he looked at this room he felt, or thought he felt, Vere in it. He
even made an effort scarcely natural to him, and tried to imagine a
home with Vere as its mistress.
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