quickly.

Marcello heard the words, though he was at that moment shaking hands
with Aurora, and their eyes had met. She was perfectly calm and
collected, none the worse for her adventure in the morning, and
considerably the wiser.

"Will you come in?" asked the Contessa, leading the way, as if expecting
both men to follow.

Corbario went at once. Marcello hesitated, and flushed a little, and
Aurora seemed to be waiting for him.

"Shall I come, too?" he asked.

"Just as you please," she answered. "My mother will think it strange if
you don't."

Marcello bent his head, and the two followed the others towards the
stairs at a little distance.

"Did your mother send word to Folco that you were here?" asked Marcello
quickly, in a low tone.

"Not that I know. Why?"

"It is no matter. I wanted to be sure. Thank you."

They went upstairs side by side, not even glancing at each other, much
more anxious to seem perfectly indifferent than to realise what they
felt now that they had met at last.

Marcello stayed ten minutes in the small sitting-room, talking as well
as he could. He had no wish to be alone with Aurora or her mother, and
since the visit had been pressed upon him he was glad that Folco was
present. But he got away as soon as he could, leaving Corbario to his
own devices. The Contessa gave him her hand quietly, as if she had not
expected him to stay, and she did not ask him to come again. Aurora
merely nodded to him, and he saw that just as he went out she left the
room by another door, after glancing at him once more with apparent
coldness.

He walked quickly through the village until he came near to his own
hotel, and then his pace slackened by degrees. He knew that he had felt
a strong emotion in seeing Aurora again, and he was already wishing that
he had not come away so soon. The room had been small, and it had been
uncomfortable to be there, feeling himself judged and condemned by the
Contessa and distrusted by Aurora; but he had been in an atmosphere that
recalled all his youth, with people whose mere presence together brought
back the memory of his dead mother as nothing else had done since his
illness. He was just in that state of mind in which he would have broken
away and freed himself within the hour, at any cost, if he had been
involved in a common intrigue.

At the same time he had become convinced that Folco had deceived him,
for some reason or other which he could not guess, and the kno