The afternoon was all blue and gold--one of those perfect days in late August, when the summer warmth sparkles with the zest of autumn. An old school-friend of the Marchesa was arriving by the evening train from Milan. So they were to use the _Fretta_, starting at five o'clock from Villa Bianca and stopping at Isola Bella for tea. Afterwards Sophy would be left at home, and the _Fretta_ would go on to Laveno to meet the Marchesa's friend.
It seemed strange, startling somehow, to see Amaldi's face in this blaze of sunshine, after last seeing it in the dim starlight. He was as quietly composed as usual, however. The only difference that she noticed about him was that he managed always when looking at her not to look directly into her eyes. This relieved and saddened her at the same time. But when they got to Isola Bella, and he grasped her hand, assisting her to step in and out of the row-boats that lay between the _Fretta_ and the shore, she caught her foot on a seat, nearly falling into the water: then his eyes went into hers. He had to catch her to him, rather roughly in the exigency of the moment, close against his side. As he glanced down at her, she glanced up involuntarily:--his eyes went deep into hers--a keen, quick ray, making her feel as if her spirit had been stabbed. It winced from that suddenly unsheathed stabbing look, as her flesh would have winced from a blade. He loosed her instantly, but she felt the contact of that look through and through her.
During tea she talked rather fast and rather more than usual. She made the Marchesa laugh her gay arpeggio of "Ha-ha's"; Amaldi smiled politely. He was smoking after his tea. He seemed to enjoy his cigarette especially--inhaling deeply and letting the smoke escape through his nostrils very slowly, his eyes watching it.
"I am still worried about Bobby, Marchesa," said Sophy suddenly. "He has a little cough. I think I shall take him south. I thought of Sorrento."
"But, my dear, September is a warm, lovely month with us--like summer. Only the nights and mornings are crisp. Aren't you over-anxious?"
The Marchesa had not been a fussy mother herself. She thought Sophy inclined to coddle Bobby.
"Yes--I know," Sophy replied hurriedly. "But the change will be best for him I'm sure. Besides--my husband will be well enough to travel shortly--I heard from the nurse to-day. He loves the sea--sailing and fishing. I'm afraid he'd feel the lake too shut in----"