Presently she was startled by seeing Assunta come hurrying back with a
teacup and saucer in one hand, a hot water jug in the other. The rapid
Italian of excited moments Daphne never pretended to understand,
consequently she gathered from Assunta's incoherent words neither names
nor impressions, only the bare fact that a caller for the Countess
Accolanti had rung the bell.

"He inquired, too, for the Signorina," remarked the peasant woman
finally, when her breath had nearly given out.

"Do you know him?" asked Daphne. "Have you seen him before?"

"But yes, thousands of times," said Assunta in a stage whisper. "See,
he comes. I thought it best to say that he would find the Signorina in
the garden. And the Signorina must pardon me for the card: I dropped
it into the tea-kettle and it is wet, quite wet."

Assunta had time to note with astonishment before she left that hostess
and caller met as old friends, for the Signorina held out her hand in
greeting before a word of introduction had been said.

"I am told that your shepherd life is ended," remarked Daphne, as she
filled the cup just brought. Neither her surprise nor her joy in his
coming showed in her face.

"For the present, yes."

"You have won great devotion," said Daphne, smiling. "Only, they all
mistake you for a Christian saint."

"What does it matter?" said Apollo. "The feeling is the same."

"Assunta knew you at once as one of those in her calendar," the girl
went on, "but she seems to recognize your supernatural qualities only
by lamplight. I am a little bit proud that I can detect them by day as
well."

Her gayety met no response from him, and there was a long pause. To the
girl it seemed that the enveloping sunshine of the garden was only a
visible symbol of her new divine content. If she had looked closely,
which she dared not do, she would have seen that the lurking sadness in
the man's face had leaped to the surface, touching the brown eyes with
a look of eternal grief.

"I ventured to stop," he said presently, "because I was not sure that
happy chance would throw us together again. I have come to say
good-by."

"You are going away?"

"I am going away," he answered slowly.

"So shall I, some day," said Daphne, "and then moss will grow green on
my seat by the fountain, and San Pietro will be sold to some peddler
who will beat him. Of course it had to end! Sometimes, when you tread
the blue heights of Olympus, will you think of m