id not hear.

"Gaspare! Gaspare!"

Each time she spoke a little louder, but still he took no notice.

She leaned farther out and called:

"Gaspare!"

This time he heard and started violently, dropped the cigarette, then,
without looking up, bent down slowly, recovered it, and turned round.

"Signora?"

The sun shone full on his upturned face, showing to Hermione the dogged
look which sometimes came to it when anything startled him.

"I made you jump."

"No, Signora."

"But I did. What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing, Signora. Why are you not asleep?"

He spoke almost as if she injured him by being awake.

"I couldn't sleep to-day. What are you going to do this afternoon?"

"I don't know, Signora. Do you wish me to do anything for you?"

"Well--"

She had a wish to clear things up, to force her life, the lives of those
few she cared for, out of mystery into a clear light. She had a desire
to chastise thought by strong, bracing action.

"I rather want to send a note to Don Emilio."

"Si, Signora."

His voice did not sound pleased.

"It is too hot to row all the way to Naples. Couldn't you go to the
village and take the tram to the hotel--if I write the note?"

"If you like, Signora."

"Or would it be less bother to row as far as Mergellina, and take a tram
or carriage from there?

"I can do that, Signora."

He sounded a little more cheerful.

"I think I'll write the note, Gaspare, then. And you might take it some
time--whenever you like. You might come and fetch it in five minutes."

"Very well, Signora."

He moved away and she went to her writing-table. She sat down, and
slowly, with a good deal of hesitation and thought, she wrote part of a
letter asking Emile to come to dine whenever he liked at the island.
And now came the difficulty. She knew Emile did not want to meet the
Marchesino there. Yet she was going to ask them to meet each other. She
had told the Marchesino so. Should she tell Emile? Perhaps, if she did,
he would refuse to come. But she could never lay even the smallest trap
for a friend. So she wrote on, asking Emile to let her know the night he
would come as she had promised to invite the Marchesino to meet him.

"Be a good friend and do this for me," she ended, "even if it bores you.
The Marchese lunched here alone with us to-day, and it was a fiasco.
I think we were very inhospitable, and I want to wipe away the
recollection of our dulness from his mind. Gaspare