Kitty is."

The gondolas became moored. Hillard jumped out and went to assist La
Signorina, but she ignored his outstretched hand. This was not a
promising beginning.

"To the church steps, Mr. Hillard," she said.

He followed her meekly. Merrihew sulked among the cushions.

The solitary electric lamp in the Campo made light enough; and when the
two arrived at the steps the woman turned.

"What is it you wish?" she asked. There was not the slightest agitation
in her voice; there was not even curiosity.

"One look at your face," he answered simply.

She slowly removed the veil. Then, for the first time, he looked upon
the face of this woman who had burdened his dreams. The face was not
like any he had conjured. It seemed to him that Vecchio's--Paola
Vecchio's--Barbara had stepped down from her frame: beauty, tranquil,
flawless beauty. A minute passed; he was incapable of speech, he could
only look.

"Well?" she said, in the same expressionless tone.

"Let us begin at the beginning," he replied, with an effort to imitate
the evenness of her tone.

"Since this is to be the end."

"Why did you answer my personal in the first place? Why did you not
ignore it? I should have been left in peace."

"An impulse of the moment, which I shall always regret."

"Why did you let it go so far as to permit me to dine with you that
memorable night?"

"A second impulse, equally regrettable."

"And why, after all had come to an apparent end, why did you send me
that mask?"

She did not answer at once.

"Why?" he repeated.

"It is unanswerable. Truthfully, I do not know."

"Have you thought what all this might mean to me?" with warmth.

Again she was silent, but her eyes did not waver.

"When I heard your voice to-night I knew that doubt was no longer in my
heart."

"Doubt?"

"Yes, doubt. I knew then that the inexplicable had happened."

"I do not understand."

"The inexplicable. For who will believe that it is possible for a sane
man to fall in love with a voice? Had your face been scarred, as I once
suspected; had you committed some crime, as I once believed, it would
not matter. I am mad." He laughed angrily. "Yes, I love you, knowing not
what you are nor caring. I have been mad for weeks, only I did not see
my madness in true colors till this moment."

The light seemed to bother her eyes, for she turned her head aside,
giving this mad lover the exquisite profile of her face.

"You are indeed mad, or,