The Marchesino laughed, quite unabashed. His cheeks were slightly flushed and his eyes shone.
“Could I tell the truth, Signora? You might have refused to come. But now I speak the solemn truth. By midnight—”
“I’m afraid we really can’t stay so late as that.”
“But there is a piano. I will play valses. I will sing.” He looked ardently at Vere, who was eagerly watching the sea from the window.
“And we will dance, the Signorina and I.”
Artois made a brusque movement towards the terrace, muttering something about the launch. A glare of lightning lit up the shore immediately below the terrace, showing him the launch buffeted by the waves that were now breaking over the sandy beach. There came a summoning call from the sailors.
“If you do stay,” Artois said to the Marchesino, turning back to them, “you must send the launch round to Mergellina. I don’t believe it can stop here.”
“Well, but there are rocks, Caro Emilio. It is protected!”
“Not enough.”
“Signora,” said Gaspare, “we had better go. It will only get worse. The sea is not too bad yet.”