She turned her head for a brief moment and glanced at him. She wished he would go away now--drive to Posilippo by himself, for instance. “Do as you like,” she said without stirring, “I stay here--” “Then, of course,” he said gravely, “I shall not leave you.” It was like being in prison--and not being quite sure whether you were the prisoner or the jailer.
It was a relief to know that some one else was advancing along the terrace. Léon sprang to his feet; he was not a clumsy man, but he very nearly upset the table by which they sat.
Rose was walking slowly towards them. She held a Baedeker in one hand and a parasol in the other. She was very tall, and she looked taller than usual. Her wide blue eyes rested on the wonderful sea beyond--but she had seen Léon and Madame Gérard. She walked towards them without speaking or smiling.
When she came up to them she smiled a little nervously, but in a very friendly way, as if she was glad to see them both, but didn’t want, of course, to make a fuss about it.
“They told me,” she said, “that I should find you out here.”
Madame Gérard could not rise. Her lips moved as if she tried to speak, but she dared not speak. This was her judgment. She was the cleverest of women, but she no longer knew what to say.
Léon stood there with his eyes on the ground, white as a sheet and trembling. He could not look at Rose at all. He felt as if her eyes were fire from Heaven.
Rose spoke again. “Léon,” she said, “do you think I might have some tea?”
“Mon Dieu--Rose--” he whispered under his breath. “Mon Dieu--what must you think--”
“If I could have some roll and butter, too,” she went on, ignoring his murmur, “it would be very nice. I am rather hungry.” Léon turned and without speaking passed quickly into the house. Rose sat down opposite Madame and put the Baedeker on the table. Madame Gérard lifted her heavy eyelids and looked at Rose.