"And all the time you knew I knew her!" retorted Artois.

They looked at each other in the eyes and burst out laughing.

"Emilio, you are the devil! I will never forgive you. You do not trust
me."

"Caro amico, I do trust you--always to fall in love with every girl
you meet. But"--and his voice changed--"the Signorina is a child.
Remember that, Doro."

They were going down the steps to the sea. Almost as Artois spoke they
reached the bottom, and saw their boat floating in the moonlight
nearly in the centre of the Pool. The Marchesino stood still.

"My dear Emilio," he said, staring at Artois with his great round
eyes, "you make me wonder whether you know women."

Artois felt amused.

"Really?" he said.

"Really! And yet you write books."

"Writing books does not always prove that one knows much. But explain
to me."

They began to stroll on the narrow space at the sea edge. Close by lay
the boat to which Ruffo belonged. The boy was already in it, and they
saw him strike a match and light one of the cigarettes. Then he lay