ear heart, if you only knew how my life was full of
silence until you came into it, and now it is full of music!
Good-night, again! "D. R.

"_Sunday Morning._

"Just returned from the Capitol. The legal notice for the
celebration of a marriage is longer than I expected. It seems that
the ordinary term must be twelve days at least, covering two
successive Sundays (on which the act of publication is posted on
the board outside the office) and three days over. Only twelve
days more, my dear one, and you will be mine, mine, mine, and
all the world will know!"

It took Roma a good three-quarters of an hour to read this letter, for
nearly every word seemed to be written out of a lover's lexicon, which
bore secret meanings of delicious import, and imperiously demanded their
physical response from the reader's lips. At length she put it between
the pillow and her cheek, to help the sweet delusion that she was cheek
to cheek with some one and had his strong, protecting arms about her.
Then she lay a long time, with eyes open and shining in the darkness,
trying in vain to piece together the features of his face. But in the
first dream of her first sleep she saw him plainly, and then she ran,
she raced, she rushed to his embrace.

Next day brought a message from the Baron:

"DEAR ROMA,--Come to the Palazzo Braschi to-morrow (Tuesday)
morning at eleven o'clock. Don't refuse, and don't hesitate. If
you do not come, you will regret it as long as you live, and
reproach yourself for ever afterwards.--Yours,
"BONELLI."

III

The Palazzo Braschi is a triangular palace, whereof one front faces to
the Piazza Navona and the two other fronts to side streets. It is the
official palace of the Minister of the Interior, usually the President
of the Council and Prime Minister of Italy.

Roma arrived at eleven o'clock, and was taken to the Minister's room
immediately, by way of an outer chamber, in which colleagues and
secretaries were waiting their turn for an interview. The Baron was
seated at a table covered with books and papers. There was a fur rug
across his knees, and at his right hand lay a small ivory-handled
revolver. He rose as Roma entered, and received her with his great but
glacial politeness.