grace of the young figure, the busy
little hands intent on their work, and the sympathetic play of lips,
eyes, and dimples, in his thoughts, and the tones of the exquisite
voice still ringing in his ears, he began once more to taste the joy of
life and to feel the old yearning stir in him again.

Striking indeed was the contrast between this little friend and his
superb Theresa, with all her beauty and accomplishments, and he felt it
when he sat down at his writing-table to converse with his _fiancee_.
He could no longer smile at her impetuosity; and yet how generously she
made excuses for his silence. "No, I have not taken it amiss," she
wrote. "Naturally you found it hard to write. You wanted rest--rest
even from me. You ought not to have been made to feel that my letters
were a burden to you from their vehemence. Forgive me. In this alone
you are to blame, as I alone am to blame for the sufferings you have
endured. I shall never forgive myself, but strive, all my life, to make
amends to you for them."

Not one woman in a thousand would have had such ideas, or have written
so generously. He was forced to admit that; and yet there came upon him
again that constant sense of overstrain. To bring back the impression
of tranquillity and composure, he wrote to her of Amanda Brandini, as
his new friend was named. He repeated some remarks the girl had made
about betrothal and marriage. As he wrote them down he felt their
charm, and felt too that he had transcribed them rather skilfully, so
that he read over his letter to himself with a certain degree of
satisfaction.

Those bright morning meetings, which lightened the whole day for
Mansana, were never followed by an invitation to call upon his friends
at their own house. He respected them for this dignified reserve; but
the meetings themselves fanned the flame of his longing to see Theresa
again, and so one day, to her intense astonishment, the princess
received a telegram, announcing that he was growing weary of his exile
from her presence, and that he would be with her in Ancona in three
days' time.

On the day he sent this telegram he happened to be strolling through a
small _plaza_, where there was a _cafe_. He entered and called for
something to quench his thirst. The place was new to him; and as he sat
waiting to be served, he let his eyes wander round the little square,
till they lighted on the form of Amanda Brandini upon the verandah of
a house immediately oppos