ancient world.

"Do you think that your story is true, Bertuccio?" she asked, as they
came in sight of the grass-grown mounds of the buried watering-place
toward which their steps were bent.

"Ma che!" answered Bertuccio, shrugging his shoulders, and snapping his
fingers meaningly. "So much is true that one does not see, and one
cannot believe all that one does see."

Daphne started. What HAD he seen?

"Besides," added Bertuccio, "there is proof of this. My father's
father saw the olive tree, and it was quite closed."

CHAPTER XIII

Over the shallow tufa basin of the great fountain on the hill Daphne
stood gazing into the water. She had sought the deep shadow of the
ilex trees, for the afternoon was warm, an almost angry summer heat
having followed yesterday's coolness. Her yellow gown gleamed like
light against the dull brown of the stone and the dark moss-touched
trunks of the trees. Whether she was looking at the tufts of fern and
of grass that grew in the wet basin, or whether she was studying her
own beauty reflected there, no one could tell, not even Apollo, who had
been watching her for some time.

Into his eyes as he looked leaped a light like the flame of the
sunshine beyond the shadows on the hill; swiftly he stepped forward and
kissed the girl's shoulder where the thin yellow stuff of her dress
showed the outward curve to the arm. She turned and faced him, without
a word. There was no need of speech: anger battled with unconfessed
joy in her changing face.

"How dare you?" she said presently, when she had won her lips to curves
of scorn. "The manners of the gods seem strange to mortals."

"I love you," he answered simply.

Then there was no sound save that of the water, dropping over the edge
of the great basin to the soft grass beneath.

"Can't you forgive me?" he asked humbly. "I am profoundly sorry; only,
my temptation was superhuman."

"I had thought that you were that, too," said the girl in a whisper.

"There is no excuse, I know; there is only a reason. I love you,
little girl. I love your questioning eyes, and your firm mouth, and
your smooth brown hair"--

"Stop!" begged Daphne, putting out her hands. "You must not say such
things to me, for I am not free to hear them. I must go away," and she
turned toward home. But he grasped one of the outstretched hands and
drew her to the stone bench near the fountain, and then seated himself
near her side.

"Now tell me w