reluctance what did I know?

I walked away from the house in a curious state of gloomy satisfaction
with myself.

* * * * *

And this is the last extract. A month afterwards.

--This afternoon going up to the Villa I was for the first time
accompanied in my way by some misgivings. To-morrow I sail.

First trip and therefore in the nature of a trial trip; and I can't
overcome a certain gnawing emotion, for it is a trip that _mustn't_ fail.
In that sort of enterprise there is no room for mistakes. Of all the
individuals engaged in it will every one be intelligent enough, faithful
enough, bold enough? Looking upon them as a whole it seems impossible;
but as each has got only a limited part to play they may be found
sufficient each for his particular trust. And will they be all punctual,
I wonder? An enterprise that hangs on the punctuality of many people, no
matter how well disposed and even heroic, hangs on a thread. This I have
perceived to be also the greatest of Dominic's concerns. He, too,
wonders. And when he breathes his doubts the smile lurking under the
dark curl of his moustaches is not reassuring.

But there is also something exciting in such speculations and the road to
the Villa seemed to me shorter than ever before.

Let in by the silent, ever-active, dark lady's maid, who is always on the
spot and always on the way somewhere else, opening the door with one
hand, while she passes on, turning on one for a moment her quick, black
eyes, which just miss being lustrous, as if some one had breathed on them
lightly.

On entering the long room I perceive Mills established in an armchair
which he had dragged in front of the divan. I do the same to another and
there we sit side by side facing R., tenderly amiable yet somehow distant
among her cushions, with an immemorial seriousness in her long, shaded
eyes and her fugitive smile hovering about but never settling on her
lips. Mills, who is just back from over the frontier, must have been
asking R. whether she had been worried again by her devoted friend with
the white hair. At least I concluded so because I found them talking of
the heart-broken Azzolati. And after having answered their greetings I
sit and listen to Rita addressing Mills earnestly.

"No, I assure you Azzolati had done nothing to me. I knew him. He was a
frequent visitor at the Pavilion, though I, personally, never talked with
him very much in Hen