irrepressible bitterness: "After all, what difference does it
make to what country I sell my birthright?"

"_Caro mio ... caro mio!_..." muttered the old man, much upset.

"You understand, Barti," returned Amaldi quickly, "I am quite determined
to be free if possible. I...." he hesitated, then went on emphatically:
"I count it a small price to pay. What makes me bitter is that an
Italian should not be able to free himself from a worthless woman in
his own country. Yes, Barti, that makes me bitter, I confess."

They spoke together a few moments longer. When Amaldi left, it had been
decided that Barti was to leave for Buda-Pesth that night.

LI

On the same afternoon, Amaldi sent Sophy a note, saying that he had some
important things that he would like to talk over with her, and asking if
she would not go with him again by gondola up the Brenta to see his
mother.

"I feel," he ended, "that we could talk so much more quietly in the old
garden there. Here in Venice there is always some interruption, and Lady
Wychcote comes to stop with you on Tuesday. Then, too, it would be such
a happiness for Baldi to see you again in this way. We could be back in
Venice by six o'clock."

Sophy thought this over. She felt that she could not refuse, and yet she
hesitated. But she knew that Barti had returned. She was sure that it
was about the divorce that Amaldi wished to talk with her. What had
Barti said? Was the divorce in Switzerland impossible, after all? And as
this doubt came to her she knew for the first time how much she really
loved Amaldi. The dreadful sinking of her heart when she faced the
thought that he might not be able to get free made her decide at once to
go with him the next day. And she would not take Bobby with her this
time. He was all agog over a lesson in rowing that Lorenzo, the first
gondoliere, was to give him to-morrow. She would keep him with her until
she and Amaldi started at twelve o'clock; then he and Rosa could spend
the afternoon with Lorenzo.

She sent word to Amaldi by the messenger who brought his note that she
would be ready to go with him next day at noon.

He did not tell her of what Barti had said, and she did not ask him
until they were alone in the garden of Villa Rosalia.

When he told her about the possible alternative of Hungary, she gave a
cry of pain.

"I can't bear it.... I can't bear it that you should make such
sacrifices!..." she stammered.

"When a man loves as