lted abruptly a few yards above the level of the road.

The rattle of footsteps on rough cobbles roused Mary from her study of
the thing which Vanno could not see. She glanced up, expecting some
peasant who would want to pass her car. At sight of the Prince halted on
the path and looking down into her uplifted face, she blushed. It was
just such a blush as had dyed her cheeks painfully the night when he
frowned in answer to her friendly smile; and Vanno knew that she was
thinking of it. The remorse he had suffered then, when too late, came
back to him. If she had not blushed now in the same childlike, hurt way,
he was sure that he could have kept to his resolution not to speak. He
would simply have stood still, gazing away into distance until she was
ready to go on; or at most he would have said with cool politeness,
"Please don't let me disturb you. I am in no hurry to pass." But in an
instant it rushed over him that here was his chance to atone for an
unkindness, and that if he did not quickly seize it he would be sorry
all the rest of his life. Besides, it flashed into his mind that by
speaking of a certain thing he could easily lead up to the subject of
the cure. He wanted very much to know whether she attached any
importance to the visits of the priest.

Vanno took off his hat to Mary, bowing gravely. He had guessed her
reason for bringing the car to rest at this place, and it gave him his
excuse. A step or two farther down the mule path brought him near enough
to speak without raising his voice. "I think," he said, "you must have
stopped here to look at the marble tablet set in the rock. Will you let
me tell you something about it--unless you know its history already?"

"I thank you. I don't know. I was wondering about it." Mary stammered a
little, blushing very deeply, partly with embarrassment--though she was
not embarrassed when other strangers spoke to her--partly in surprise at
hearing the "Roman Prince" speak English like an Englishman. "Please do
tell me."

Before he spoke, she had given a quick order to the chauffeur to move on
and leave the end of the mule path free. Now the heart of the motor
began to beat, and the car rolled a few feet farther on. Vanno came out
into the thick white dust of the much-travelled road, and he and Mary
could both look up to the tablet he had mentioned.

It was an oblong piece of marble, set high on the face of gray rock
which on one side walled the upper Corniche, Napole