amuse them
immensely. Vere is such a baby, and your friend is a regular boy, in
spite of his self-assurance."

"Women often fancy men to be young in ways in which they are not young,"
said Artois. "Panacci is very much of a man, I can assure you."

"Panacci! I never heard you call him that before."

Her eager brown eyes went to his face curiously for a moment. Artois saw
that, and said, rather hastily:

"It's true that nearly every one calls him Doro."

Once more they heard the chattering voices, and then a sound of laughter
in the darkness. It made Hermione smile, but Artois moved uneasily.
Just then there came to them from the sea, like a blow, a sudden puff of
wind. It hit their faces.

"Do you want to avoid the storm?" Artois said.

"Yes. Do you think--"

"I am sure you can only avoid it by going at once. Look!"

He pointed towards the sea. The blackness before them was cut at some
distance off by a long, level line of white.

"What's that?" asked Hermione, peering out.

"Foam."

"Foam! But surely it can't be!"

The wind struck them again. It was like a hot, almost like a sweating
hand, coarse and violent, and repugnant.

Hermione drew in.

"There is something disgusting in nature to-night," she said--"something
that seems almost unnatural."

The blind man began to sing behind them. His voice was soft and throaty.
The phrasing was sickly. Some notes trembled. As he sang he threw back
his head, stared with his sightless eyes at the ceiling, and showed his
tongue. The whole of his fat body swayed. His face became scarlet. The
two hopeless, middle-aged men on either side of him stared into vacancy
as, with dirty hands on which the veins stood out, they played wrong
basses to the melody on their guitars.

Suddenly Hermione was seized with a sensation of fear.

"Let us go. We had better go. Ah!"

She cried out. The wind, returning, had caught the white table-cloth. It
flew up towards her, then sank down.

"What a fool I am!" she said. "I thought--I didn't know--"

She felt that really it was something in Artois which had upset her
nerves, but she did not say so. In that moment, when she was
startled, she had instinctively put out her hand towards him. But, as
instinctively, she drew it back without touching him.

"Oh, here is Gaspare!" she said.

An immense, a really ridiculous sense of relief came to her as she saw
Gaspare's sturdy legs marching decisively towards them, his great eyes
exa