returned the Marchesino's glance with one of comprehension and
composed themselves once more to repose.

The Marchesino did not come back, and presently Artois lifted himself
up a little, and looked out.

The boat was right under the lee of the islet, almost touching the
shore, but the sea was so perfectly still that it scarcely moved, and
was not in any danger of striking against the rock. The sailors had
seen that, too, before they slept again.

Artois sat quite up. He wondered a good deal what his friend was
doing. One thing was certain--he was trespassing. The islet belonged
to Hermione, and no one had any right to be upon it without her
invitation. Artois had that right, and was now considering whether or
not he should use it, follow the Marchesino and tell him--what he had
not told him--that the owner of the islet was the English friend of
whom he had spoken.

For Artois the romance of the night in which he had been revelling was
now thoroughly disturbed. He looked again towards the two sailors,
suspecting their sleep. Then he got up quietly, and stepped out of the
boat onto the shore. His doing so gave a slight impetus to the boat,
which floated out a little way into the Pool. But the men in it seemed
to sleep on.

Artois stood still for a moment at the edge of the sea. His great
limbs were cramped, and he stretched them. Then he went slowly towards
the steps. He reached the plateau before the Casa del Mare. The
Marchesino was not there. He looked up at the house. As he did so the