“Gaspare told me he was here.”
“Yes. We’ve been having a talk.”
Hermione waited for Vere to say something more, but she was silent. She stood near the window looking out, and the expression on her face had become rather vague, as if her mind had gone on a journey.
“Well,” said the mother at last, “and what does Ruffo say for himself, Vere?”
“Ruffo? Oh, I don’t know.”
She paused, then added:
“I think he has rather a hard time, do you know, Madre?”
Hermione had taken off her hat. She laid it on a table and sat down. She was feeling tired.
“But generally he looks so gay, so strong. Don’t you remember that first day you saw him?”
“Ah—then!”