Part 33 (1/2)

”You are too quick,” said Leonora, laughing.

”One has to be quick in order not to appear too awfully slow in comparison with you, dear,” answered Julius at once.

”Again,--there is no stopping you!”

It amused her to talk to him, he was so ready; and always with something well turned, that pleased her. There was something, too, that was refres.h.i.+ng in hearing the small talk of a celebrity, often a little doubtful in grammar, and interspersed now and then with a little generous exaggeration that she liked. She had read his books, and knew what he could do with the language when he pleased. And most of all she liked to speak and to be spoken to in English,--it seemed so much more natural.

It was no trouble to Julius to talk to her. With some people he was as silent as the grave, which produced the impression that he was very profound. With others he was ready for a laugh and a jest at any moment, and they thought him brilliant; but there were very few with whom he talked seriously. Leonora saw all his phases in turn, for she felt that if she did not know his character, she was in sympathy with his mind and understood him.

But Julius was anxious to reach the spot he had chosen, in order to let Carantoni know of his whereabouts. He suggested to Leonora that if it was quite convenient to her they might go the next day, when she had had a good night's rest. She a.s.sented readily enough. To tell the truth, with all her gayety and enjoyment of the novel situation, she disliked Naples, and she hated to feel that in the morning she should look out of her window across the bay and see Sorrento, and think of her husband as being there. She did not know that when she laid her head on her pillow that night Marcantonio would be in the station in Naples, on his way to Rome, and not half a mile away from her.

”Are you ever seasick?” asked Julius suddenly.

”Oh, Julius! You know I am not,” she said reproachfully. He laughed.

”No? I mean in a steamer. Boats are quite different.”

”I don't know,” said Leonora. ”I have often crossed the Channel, and I was never ill at all.”

”Oh, then of course it's all right!” he said. ”You would not mind in the least. We had better go to Genoa in the steamer; it is very decent and much cooler than all those miles of rail and dust.”

”Oh yes, far pleasanter,” said Leonora.

And so they made their arrangements, and the next day--the day when Marcantonio was engaging the detectives in Rome--they went on board the ”Florio” steamer and left Naples, and Sorrento, and Ischia, and all the countless reminiscences that attached to the glorious bay, and were carried up the coast.

”The dear place,” said Leonora, looking astern as she sat in her arm-chair under the awning on deck, ”I shall always love it.”

”But you are glad to leave it, darling, are you not?” asked Batis...o...b.., who stood beside her, and was looking more at her than at the coast, though he held a gla.s.s in his hand.

It was a curious question to ask, one might have thought, and yet it was natural enough, and did not jar on Leonora's thoughts. She was not sensitive in that way in the least. She did not mind his referring to the past in any way he chose.

”Glad? Of course I am glad,” she answered, looking up into his face.

”How could I not be glad?” She seemed almost vexed at the simplicity of the question.

”Then I am happy,” said Julius, sitting down beside her.

And he spoke the truth; for the time he was utterly and supremely happy.

He felt indeed the grave and serious mood, which the bravest man must feel when he knows that in a very few days his life will be at stake.

But his vanity told him he was going to fight for her, and that gave him a happiness apart; so he concealed the serious tendency of his thoughts, talking easily and gayly. It was his vanity that helped him most, telling him it was for her; and, as always in his life, the prospect of a woman's praise was a supreme incentive. He did not reflect that he was not to fight for Leonora's honour, but for the greatest dishonour the world held for her.

The broad sun poured down on the water, but the west wind fanned their faces and the awning kept the heat from them. Leonora lay back with half-closed eyes, now and then carefully opening and shutting a fan she held. She was wonderful to look at, her marvellous skin, and the ma.s.ses of her red hair--the true red of the Venetian women--contrasting strongly with her soft dark dress, and a Sorrento handkerchief of crimson silk, just knotted about her dazzling throat. She was a marvellous specimen of vital nature, of pure living litheness and elasticity, gloriously human and alive. And the man beside her was almost as singular in a different way: he was so quiet, and moved so easily, and his bright blue eyes were so fiery and clear, his skin so bronzed and even in colour; there was strength about him too; and the pa.s.sengers as they came and went would steal a glance at the couple, and make remarks, quite audible to Julius and Leonora, about the beauty of those Inglesi.

”Which do you like best, dear,” asked Julius presently, ”the day or the night?”

”Oh--that night was so beautiful,” said Leonora; ”I love the moon, and the freshness, and the white sails, and all.”

”Does 'all' include anything especial?” asked Julius smiling.

”What do you think?” asked she, instead of answering. Her red lips remained just parted with a loving smile.