that here there might be a measure of retribution,
and that it might be intended as my punishment that Cosimo, whom I had
unconsciously bested in my sinful passion, should best me now in this
pure and holy love.

I was astir betimes, and out in the gardens before any, hoping, I think,
that Bianca, too, might seek the early morning peace of that place, and
that so we might have speech.

Instead, it was Giuliana who came to me. I had been pacing the terrace
some ten minutes, inhaling the matutinal fragrance, drawing my hands
through the cool dew that glistened upon the boxwood hedges, when I saw
her issue from the loggia that opened to the gardens.

Upon her coming I turned to go within, and I would have passed her
without a word, but that she put forth a hand to detain me.

"I was seeking you, Agostino," she said in greeting.

"Having found me, Madonna, you will give me leave to go," said I.

But she was resolutely barring my way. A slow smile parted her scarlet
lips and broke over that ivory countenance that once I had deemed so
lovely and now I loathed.

"I mind me another occasion in a garden betimes one morning when you
were in no such haste to shun me."

I crimsoned under her insolent regard. "Have you the courage to
remember?" I exclaimed.

"Half the art of life is to harbour happy memories," said she.

"Happy?" quoth I.

"Do you deny that we were happy on that morning?--it would be just about
this time of year, two years ago. And what a change in you since then!
Heigho! And yet men say that woman is inconstant!"

"I did not know you then," I answered harshly.

"And do you know me now? Has womanhood no mysteries for you since you
gathered wisdom in the wilderness?"

I looked at her with detestation in my eyes. The effrontery, the ease
and insolence of her bearing, all confirmed my conviction of her utter
shamelessness and heartlessness.

"The day after... after your husband died," I said, "I saw you in a dell
near Castel Guelfo with my Lord Gambara. In that hour I knew you."

She bit her lip, then smiled again. "What would you?" answered she.
"Through your folly and crime I was become an outcast. I went in danger
of my life. You had basely deserted me. My Lord Gambara, more generous,
offered me shelter and protection. I was not born for martyrdom and
dungeons," she added, and sighed with smiling plaintiveness. "Are you,
of all men, the one to blame me?"

"I have not the right, I know," I answe