his friend.

But he was not sure. He only suspected.

Hermione's role in this summer existence puzzled him exceedingly. The
natural supposition in a Neapolitan would, of course, have been that
Artois was her lover. But when the Marchesino looked at Hermione's eyes
he could not tell.

What did it all mean? He felt furious at being puzzled, as if he were
deliberately duped.

"Your cigarette has gone out, Marchese," said Hermione. "Have another."

The young man started.

"It's nothing."

"Vere, run in and get the Marchese a Khali Targa."

The girl got up quickly.

"No, no! I cannot permit--I have another here."

He opened his case. It was empty.

Vere laughed.

"You see!"

She went off before he could say another word, and the Marchesino was
alone for a moment with Hermione.

"You are fortunate, Signora, in having such a daughter," he said, with a
sigh that was boyish.

"Yes," Hermione said.

That bitter curiosity was still with her, and her voice sounded
listless, almost cold. The Marchesino looked up. Ah! Was there something
here that he could understand? Something really feminine? A creeping
jealousy? He was on the _qui vive_ at once.

"And such a good friend as Don Emilio," he added. "You have known Emilio
for a long time, Signora?"

"Oh yes, for a very long time."

"He is a strange man," said the Marchesino, with rather elaborate
carelessness.

"Do you think so? In what way?"

"He likes to know, but he does not like to be known."

There was a great deal of truth in the remark. Its acuteness surprised
Hermione, who thought the Marchesino quick witted but very superficial.

"As he is a writer, I suppose he has to study people a good deal," she
said, quietly.

"I do not think I can understand these great people. I think they are
too grand for me."

"Oh, but Emile likes you very much. He told me so."

"It is very good of him," said the Marchesino, pulling at his mustaches.

He was longing to warn Hermione against Emilio--to hint that Emilio was
not to be trusted. He believed that Hermione must be very blind, very
unfitted to look after a lovely daughter. But when he glanced at her
face he did not quite know how to hint what was in his mind. And just
then Vere came back and the opportunity was gone. She held out a box to
the Marchesino. As he thanked her and took a cigarette he tried to look
into her eyes. But she would not let him. And when he struck his match
she returned once more