ke notes which soared above the
soft murmur of a viol still strumming in the villa as a skylark cuts the
mists. It was not another nightingale as I at first thought, but
Imperia's voice from the laurel thicket mocking the melody. As she sang
there appeared within the circle of the tiny temple's columns a
white-robed figure, outlined against the pale green and lemon yellow of
the dawn. It might have been a statue save that as the song of the
improvisatrice, a rhapsody to Apollo, thrilled the air with passionate
sweetness, it raised its perfect arms in invocation. As though in
response to the gesture the clouds flushed through delicate rose to
crimson, while the radiance beneath their exquisite arch burned like
molten gold, with ever-increasing intensity, until the sun itself
blinded our eyes with its intolerable white fire.

Though this was exactly the event which I had planned, I was not
prepared for such phenomenal success, and I stole nearer the temple
spellbound by my own artifice.

The effect upon Raphael in his exalted mood may readily be imagined. To
him my little comedy was a supernatural vision, and kneeling before
Maria Dovizio he exclaimed: "Beautiful priestess, beseech Apollo to
grant me the power to make the world more beautiful."

Mechanically the Signorina repeated the lines which I had assigned her:
"To you it is decreed to find Apollo and to bring back the Golden Age."

Then, as she bent to crown him with the wreath of laurel, the perfume
and warmth of her person intoxicating his senses, her bared arms
encircling his neck, her soul in her eyes, Raphael awoke to the
consciousness that this was no phantom but a woman pulsing with life and
love, and that woman Maria Dovizio.

He might have revolted at the trick and have thrust her from him; but
look you--it is always the unforeseen which happens. His arms were
around her and he drew her to him unresisting till for an instant her
lips touched his forehead and his face was buried in her bosom. Then she
withdrew herself, pushing him from her very gently and steadying herself
tremblingly with her hands upon his shoulders.

"And shall I not find you again, O my beloved?" he cried, springing to
his feet.

"Surely," she answered, "surely, when you have found Apollo."

She had turned from him and was hurrying toward the villa, but he
followed her, calling her name.

"Claim me not now, not now!" she cried, as he caught her hand.

"When you will," he answ