rom the shore at Porlezza, and Ismaele
began to row rapidly. It was the driver, Toni Pollin, who was shouting
to them to make haste if they wished to catch the steamer at Menaggio.

The last moments had come. Franco let down the window in the little
door, and looked at the man as if he were most anxious not to lose a
word.

When they touched the shore he turned to his wife. "Are you going to get
out also?" "If you wish it," she said. They alighted. A cabriolet stood
ready on the shore. "By the way," said Luisa, "you will find some lunch
in your bag." They embraced, exchanging a cold and rapid kiss in the
presence of three or four curious bystanders "Try and make Maria forgive
me for leaving her thus," said Franco, and they were his last words, for
Toni Pollin was hurrying them: "Quick, quick!" The horse started off at
a brisk trot, and the cabriolet rattled noisily, with a great snapping
of the whip, through the dark and narrow street of Porlezza.

* * * * *

Franco was on board the _Falcon_ between Campo and Argegno when he
thought of his lunch. He opened the bag, and his heart gave a bound as
he perceived a letter bearing as an address the words "For You" in his
wife's hand. He tore it open eagerly, and read as follows--

"If you only knew what I am experiencing in my soul, how I am suffering,
how sorely I am tempted to lay aside the little shoes--in the making of
which I am far less skilful than you think--and to go to you, taking
back all I have said, you would not be so harsh with me. I must have
sinned deeply against truth, that the first steps I now take in
following her are so difficult, so bitter.

"You think me proud, and I believed myself very sensitive, but now I
feel that your humiliating words alone could not have kept me from
hastening to you. What holds me back is a Voice within me, a Voice
stronger than I am, which commands me to sacrifice everything save my
consciousness of truth.

"Ah! I hope this sacrifice may bring its reward! I hope that one day
there may be a perfect union between our two souls.

"I am going into the garden to gather for you that brave little rose we
admired together the other day, the little rose that has challenged and
conquered January. Do you remember how many obstacles lay between us the
first time I received a flower from your hand? I was not yet in love
with you, but you already dreamt of winning me. Now it is I who hope to
win you!"