"Visitors! Emile, why are we here? Do you anticipate a knock and 'If you please, ma'am, Mrs. and the Misses Watson'? Good Heavens—visitors on Monte Amato!"
He smiled, but he persisted.
"Never a contadino, or a shepherd, or"—he looked down at the sea—"or a fisherman with his basket of sarde?"
Maurice moved in his chair, and Gaspare, hearing a word he knew, looked hard at the speaker.
"Oh, we sometimes have the people of the hills to see us," said Hermione. "But we don't call them 'visitors.' As to fishermen—here they are!"
She pointed to her husband and Gaspare.
"But they eat all the fish they catch, and we never see the fin of even one at the cottage."
Collazione was ready now. Hermione helped Artois up from his chaise longue, and they went to the table under the awning.
"You must sit facing the view, Emile," Hermione said.
"What a dining-room!" Artois exclaimed.