eing
joy with sadness, the sunshine with despair. And the sight of the old
sarcophagus, with its bacchanal of satyrs and nymphs, brought back the
memory that death lurks even amidst the bliss of passion, the unsatiated
kisses of love. For a moment the clear song of the water sounded in
Pierre's ears like a long-drawn sob, and all seemed to crumble in the
terrible shadow which had fallen from the invisible.

Benedetta, however, caught hold of his hands and roused him once more to
the delight of being there beside her. "Your pupil is rebellious, is she
not, my friend?" said she. "But what would you have? There are ideas
which can't enter into our heads. No, you will never get those things
into the head of a Roman girl. So be content with loving us as we are,
beautiful with all our strength, as beautiful as we can be."

She herself, in her resplendent happiness, looked at that moment so
beautiful that he trembled as in presence of a divinity whose
all-powerfulness swayed the world. "Yes, yes," he stammered, "beauty,
beauty, still and ever sovereign. Ah! why can it not suffice to satisfy
the eternal longings of poor suffering men?"

"Never mind!" she gaily responded. "Do not distress yourself; it is
pleasant to live. And now let us go upstairs, my aunt must be waiting."

The midday meal was served at one o'clock, and on the few occasions when
Pierre did not eat at one or another restaurant a cover was laid for him
at the ladies' table in the little dining-room of the second floor,
overlooking the courtyard. At the same hour, in the sunlit dining-room of
the first floor, whose windows faced the Tiber, the Cardinal likewise sat
down to table, happy in the society of his nephew Dario, for his
secretary, Don Vigilio, who also was usually present, never opened his
mouth unless to reply to some question. And the two services were quite
distinct, each having its own kitchen and servants, the only thing at all
common to them both being a large room downstairs which served as a
pantry and store-place.

Although the second-floor dining-room was so gloomy, saddened by the
greeny half-light of the courtyard, the meal shared that day by the two
ladies and the young priest proved a very gay one. Even Donna Serafina,
usually so rigid, seemed to relax under the influence of great internal
felicity. She was no doubt still enjoying her triumph of the previous
evening, and it was she who first spoke of the ball and sung its praises,
thou