He was on the rocks.
“Gaspare,” he said, “wait here. Lie off the shore close by till I come back.”
“Si, Signore.”
Artois hesitated, looking at Gaspare.
“I will persuade the Signora to come back with us,” he said.
“Si, Signore. You must persuade the poor Signora. The poor Signora is mad to-night. She gave me a look—” His eyes clouded with moisture. “If the poor Signora had not been mad she could not have looked at me like that—at another, perhaps, but not at me.”
It seemed as if at last his long reserve was breaking down. He put up his hand to his eyes.
“I did not think that my Padrona—”
He stopped. Artois remembered the face at the window. He grasped Gaspare’s hand.
“The Signora does not understand,” he said. “I will make the Signora understand.”