circumstances I thought the best thing was to show the Signorina the
illuminations, and then to come straight back to the hotel. I hope you
have not been distressed. The Signorina was of course perfectly safe
with me."

"Thank you, Marchese," said Hermione, coldly. "Emile, what are we to do
about Gaspare?"

"Gaspare?" asked Vere.

"He has gone back to the Piazza to search for you again."

"Oh!"

She flushed, turned away, and went up to the window. Then she hesitated,
and finally stepped out on to the balcony.

"You had better spend the night in the hotel," said Artois.

"But we have nothing!"

"The housemaid can find you what is necessary in the morning."

"As to our clothes--that doesn't matter. Perhaps it will be the best
plan."

Artois rang the bell. They waited in silence till the night porter came.

"Can you give these two ladies rooms for the night?" said Artois. "It
is too late for them to go home by boat, and their servant has not come
back yet."

"Yes, sir. The ladies can have two very good rooms."

"Good-night, Emile," said Hermione. "Good-night, Marchese. Vere!"

Vere came in from the balcony.

"We are going to sleep here, Vere. Come!"

She went out.

"Good-night, Monsieur Emile," Vere said to Artois, without looking at
him.

She followed her mother without saying another word.

Artois looked after them as they went down the corridor, watched Vere's
thin and girlish figure until she turned the corner near the staircase,
walking slowly and, he thought, as if she were tired and depressed.
During this moment he was trying to get hold of his own violence, to
make sure of his self-control. When the sound of the footsteps had died
completely away he drew back into the room and shut the door.

The Marchesino was standing near the window. When he saw the face of
Artois he sat down in an arm-chair and put his hat on the floor.

"You don't mind if I stay for a few minutes, Emilio?" he said. "Have you
anything to drink? I am thirsty after all this walking in the crowd."

Artois brought him some Nocera and lemons.

"Do you want brandy, whiskey?"

"No, no. Grazie."

He poured out the Nocera gently, and began carefully to squeeze some
lemon-juice into it, holding the fruit lightly in his strong fingers,
and watching the drops fall with a quiet attention.

"Where have you been to-night?"

The Marchesino looked up.

"In the Piazza di Masaniello."

"Where have you been?"

"I tell you--