r
soul, and although her soul was indignant and regretful, new images,
images of the present and of the future, were assailing it.

Uncle Piero began to feel cold and came down to the cabin.

"In little more than an hour we shall be at Isola Bella," said he.

"Are you tired?"

"Not in the least. I feel wonderfully well."

"But nevertheless, you will go to bed early to-night?"

The uncle, whose thoughts were wandering, did not answer, but presently
he exclaimed: "Do you know what I was thinking? I was thinking that now
there ought to be another Maria."

Luisa, who was sitting beside him, sprang up shuddering, and went to the
little window opposite, standing with her back to Uncle Piero, who did
not understand in the least, and, concluding she was embarrassed, went
to sleep in his corner. The steamer touched at Intra. Now there was only
Pallanza before Isola. They were skirting the coast; through the little
oval window Luisa could see the banks, the houses, the trees slipping
by. How fast the boat was gliding, how fast!

Pallanza. The steamer stopped five minutes.

Luisa went on deck and inquired when they would reach Isola Bella. They
would not stop either at Suna or Baveno, so it was a question of only a
few minutes now. And when would the steamer from Arona arrive? The
steamer from Arona appeared to be late. She went below once more to
awaken Uncle Piero, who presently came on deck with her. The last part
of the journey was accomplished in silence. The uncle watched Pallanza,
which they were leaving behind, while Luisa had fixed her gaze on Isola
Bella, which they were rapidly approaching, and she saw nothing else.

The boat reached the landing-stage at Isola Bella at forty minutes past
three. There was no sign of the steamer from Arona. A porter told Luisa
that it was always late now because the train from Novara was never on
time, owing to the movement of troops. No one else went ashore at Isola,
no one was on the beach save the attendant at the landing-stage. When
the boat had left, he himself conducted the two travellers to the
_Albergo del Delfino_. He said it was a mere chance their finding the
hotel open at this season. A large family were spending the winter
there. They were English people. Indeed, it seemed the Island of
Silence. The lake lay about it, motionless and silent, the shore was
deserted, no living being was to be seen in the porches of the poor
little houses clustered together about the b