“Whenever you like.”
“To-morrow?”
“Certainly.”
“At what time?”
Hermione suddenly remembered his hospitality and felt that she ought to return it.
“Come to lunch—half-past twelve. We shall be quite alone.”
“Signora, for loneliness with you and the Signorina I would give up every friend I have ever had. I would give up—”
“Half-past twelve, then, Marchese. Addio!”
“A rivederci, Signora! A demain! Andrea, take care of the Signora. Treat her as you would treat the Madonna. Do you hear?”
The boatman grinned and took off his cap, and the boat glided away across the path of yellow light that was shed from the window of Frisio’s.