Inez and Vasco protested vigorously. Miralda looked at them both and shrugged her shoulders, and then turned to me. “I don’t see why we should spoil our pleasure for them, do you?” she asked with a laugh that was half a sneer. “I am sorry to cut your pleasure short, but I think we had better return,” I replied. “People look so silly when they are ill;” and with an unpleasant laugh she crossed to the side. When the wind came and the _Stella_ began to roll, Inez hurried away, followed directly by Vasco. The viscontesse had been very quiet all the time, and although the motion of the yacht did not appear to upset her, she said she would rather lie down and asked Miralda to go with her. “Don’t be unreasonable, mother,” was the reply. “I am enjoying every moment of it. You don’t want to shut me up in a stuffy cabin. But take my hat with you, and bring me a wrap of some sort, and my cloak.” The unfeeling words and the tone in which they were uttered, stung me like the knots of a whip lash. I gave my arm to the viscontesse and took her below and installed her comfortably on a sofa in the saloon. “Miralda loves a rough sea, Mr. Donnington,” she said, as she pointed to the wraps for me to take on deck. “Don’t stay with me; I am going to take an old woman’s privilege and have a nap.” I took the things in silence and returned to Miralda. She stood by the bulwarks her eyes intent on the troubled waters; a stray lock or two of her hair had been freed by the breeze, and her face was radiant with delight. She revelled in the scene. A veritable incarnation of vigorous youth and bewitching beauty. She turned as I reached her side. “Isn’t it glorious, Mr. Donnington? I suppose I may stay on deck? I shan’t be in the way?” “The whole yacht is yours to be where you will, of course,” I replied. “You always say such pleasant things. I remember that knack of yours. Help me on with this cloak,” she added with a coquettish glance. “There, how do I look?” she asked when she had adjusted the wrap, gracefully, as all her acts were. “And now you must find me a corner where I shan’t be quite blown away,” she commanded. I found her a corner and installed her. “We shall want two chairs, of course, and then we can have a long chat like we used to in Paris.” I had had quite enough of Paris already, if she meant to continue to talk in her former strain. But I fetched another chair and sat down. Then she laughed suddenly and almost boisterously. “Do you know I really believe my mother wanted me to go and stop with her? She can be a terrible nuisance. Imagine me pinned up there. Sympathize with me.” “The viscontesse told me she hoped to get to sleep,” I replied. “Then wasn’t it selfish of her? As if I was going to miss this beautiful sea just because she feels bad and has a headache. Absolutely preposterous, wasn’t it?” and she laughed again. I looked round at her and made no reply.