Baffled as he was, Hugh did not mean to rest satisfied with his answer. He could not believe that the opposition would hold out after he had proved himself to be thoroughly in earnest. If only the horrible doubt of Violante’s own fair dealing could be removed!—and removed it should be the first time he had the chance of a word with her. For Hugh was not a suspicious person, and it would have been hard indeed to doubt the shy yet passionate tenderness of Violante’s voice and face. He did not understand the entanglement, but he was not going to convict her without a trial. Still, this later interview had effectually brought him down to earth; and he went back to the Consulate with the arguments which were to bring James over to his side by no means in such order as he had hoped. He found the ladies drinking coffee and James discoursing on the delights of his afternoon ramble.
“I assure you, Miss Tollemache, she had eyes like a gazelle, and her smile—there was intelligence and intellect in it; you could see by the way that she smiled that she had a mind, you know.”
“But flower-girls always do smile, Mr Crichton.”
“Ah, but how different this was from the made-up smiles you see in England—such a sense of art, too, in her white handkerchief—no hats and feathers. She only said, ‘Grazie, signor!’ but there was a sort of recognition, you know, of one’s interest in her.”
“I shall go and look at her,” said Emily.
“Now, if one lived in a simpler state of society,” pursued Jem, “what curious intercourse one might have with such a being—how much she might add to one’s knowledge of existence! How one can imagine the great men of old—Raphael in search of the Beautiful—dancing in the evening! Oh, Hugh, I didn’t see you! Where have you been?”
“Where have you been would be more to the point,” retorted Hugh. “In one of Bulwer’s novels?”
“He has fallen in love with a flower-girl,” said Emily.
“Emily, my dear,” said her mother, “Mr Crichton was only describing an artistic effect. It is very desirable to cultivate a love of nature.”
“Very,” said Jem. His enthusiasm had been perfectly genuine, though he had not been without a desire to interest his audience; and he could not resist a side glance at Hugh, who looked hot and cross.