By three o'clock the weather had cleared a little, so it was decided to go on to the villa. From it the views both to seaward and inland were beautiful beyond expression. In the dear water of the lake deer were drinking, and bright kingfishers skimmed through the reeds on its shore. But to Roger's intense annoyance it came on to rain again, so love-making in the garden was out of the question; a card party was made up, and he and Isabella had no option but to join it.
That night, for the first hour or two, they said little, but their embraces took on an almost desperate fervour. Then, towards morning, Roger suddenly made up his mind to commit himself to a course of action with which he had been toying, on and off, all day.
"Isabella!" he cried at last, in an agony of passion. "I cannot give you up! I cannot! Not for good! 'Tis too much to be required of any human being. I must return to France, I know. But as soon as I have concluded my mission I mean to come back to Naples and settle here."
He knew that to do so meant the end of his career, and that his private means were far from adequate to support the expensive tastes he had acquired in the past few years; but he felt sure that he could count on Sir William to find him some sort of post in Naples, and he was prepared to tackle any job provided it enabled him to remain near Isabella.
For a moment she remained silent, then she said sadly: "Nay, Rojé . You must not do that. My heart is aching as much as yours; but at least we have been blessed with this wonderful week to look back upon; and now we must face our cruel separation bravely. I forbid you to return. Your doing so would create a situation that I shudder to think of."
"Why should it?" he burst out. "Every woman here has her lover; more, most of them give themselves to one man after another as they list, yet none of their husbands takes serious notice of their infidelities."
She shook her head. "My husband is not like the rest. If he found out that you were my lover, he would kill you."
"Nay, sweet. You are allowing your fears to run away with your imagination."
"I am not, Rojé! I am not! Remember he is a Spaniard; and not even one who was brought up here. True Spaniards hold the honour of their wives more precious than their own fives. Don Diego despises the Neapolitan gentlemen for their laxness. I have heard him voice that opinion. If he found us out I swear that he would kill you."
Isabella's unexpected opposition had only the effect of making Roger more set than ever in his resolve to make her the be-all and end-all of his future. In the past week a score of people had told him how lovely Naples was in the spring, with its almond and peach blossom, its fields gay with crocuses, its gardens scented with magnolias and stephanotis; and how joyous the nights could be during the heat of summer, with dancing in the open under the stars, moonlight bathing parties, and trips across the phosphorescent water to Ischia and Capri. It seemed to him at the moment that only a fool would wear himself out intriguing to obtain information in cold northern Courts if, instead, he was capable of earning the modest competence which would enable him to five as Isabella's lover in this lotus land. Turning towards her, he said earnestly:
"Listen, my love. Even though I think your fears to be exaggerated, I will take your word for it that should Don Diego believe his honour touched upon he will prove dangerous. We will, then, deny him all chance of proving that we have given him a pair of horns. I promise you that I will make no attempt to come to you in secret here. Quetzal can act as our confidential messenger, and I will content myself with such opportunities as are bound to offer from our meeting several times a week at the houses of our friends. To that your husband can raise no objection."
"Oh, Rojé! Rojé!"Isabella sighed. "How can you be so blind to the inevitable result of this course that you propose ? 'Tis an old saying that there is safety in numbers; and that is the protection of most of these Neapolitan ladies. They change their beaux so lightheartedly that no one is ever certain if any one of their affairs has ever reached its logical conclusion. On that account 'tis near impossible for even a jealous husband actually to pin anything upon them. But I could not bring myself to flirt with other men, neither could I support the thought of your making love to other women, even as a cover. In a few weeks our fidelity would become conspicuous, and my husband would have only to watch us for a little when together to realize our love, and be certain that we were deceiving him. His Spanish pride would never stomach the thought that other men might be laughing at him, and in the end your life would prove the forfeit for your attachment to me."
"Be not too certain of that," Roger murmured truculently. "I am accounted no bad swordsman, and did he challenge me I would be most happy to meet him. Such a conversation might well prove a swift way out of all our difficulties."
Isabella flung her arms about his neck, and began to sob. "My own! My loved one! 'Tis clear you have not the understanding of a child upon such matters. In Spain, a husband who believes he has been wronged does not consider himself called upon to expose himself to the blade of his wife's lover. He hires others to do his business. To return here as you suggest would be to expose yourself to the dagger of an assassin."
Roger was no coward; but her tearful words shook him badly, and conjured up the most horrid visions. For weeks, and perhaps months, all might go well; he would lead that carefree sybaritic life he had visualized and discreetly enjoy Isabella's favours; then one dark night when he least expected it he would be caught off his guard, and die in the gutter with a bravo's stiletto plunged to its hilt between his shoulder-blades.
Yet his pride would not let him give way altogether, and they parted in the dawn, knowing that they would meet the following afternoon, but with nothing settled.
On the Tuesday it rained again; but not sufficiently heavily for King Ferdinand to forgo the public welcome that it had been arranged for him to receive on his return; and by eleven o'clock the clouds dispersed to let the sun come through. The streets were decked with flags; carpets, tapestries and gaily coloured rugs were hung over balconies and from windows. Just before midday Roger and Isabella met at the Francavilla mansion, to which a party had been invited to witness the procession.
Both the Neapolitans and their King loved a show, so half the army had been turned out to line the route; and, to keep the populace amused while they waited for the Sovereigns, a score or more of triumphal cars had been decorated and manned to drive up and down the main thoroughfares. These cars were a feature of Neapolitan public holidays and were always brought out in different guises for the great pre-Lenten Carnival, the summer Battle of Flowers, and other festivities. Most of them were huge vehicles drawn by as many as twenty oxen, and they now moved up and down with their loads of bacchantes, mermaids and acrobats escorted by groups of absurd masked figures on enormous stilts. Meanwhile, bands played, cannon thundered and salvoes of musketry crashed out from the port.
At length the cavalcade came in view; trumpeters, outriders, cavalry; the King's favourite regiment, the Volontari della Marina, in their uniforms of green with scarlet facings and yellow buttons; then the great gilded coach of the Sovereigns, surrounded by the Guardia del Corpo.
As soon as Roger saw it in the distance he drew Isabella back from the balcony into the room. He had been waiting impatiently for that moment, knowing that his one chance to get a few words alone with her would be while the attention of the rest of the party was held by the high-light of the procession. Without wasting an instant, he said: