t some distance, standing motionless where they
had left it.

'A little further, Elena, just a step or two! Shall I carry you?'

Then, seized with a sort of frenzy, he burst out again--Why was she
going away? Why did she want to break with him? Surely their destinies
were indissolubly knit together now? He could not live without
her--without her eyes, her voice, the constant thought of her. He was
saturated through and through with love of her--his whole blood was on
fire as with some deadly poison. Why was she running away from him?--He
would hold her fast--would suffocate her on his heart first----No--it
could not, must not be--never!

Elena listened, with bent head to meet the blast, but she did not
answer. Presently she raised her hand and beckoned to the coachman. The
horses pawed and pranced as they started.

'Stop at the Porta Pia,' she called to the man, and entered the carriage
with her lover. Then she turned and with a sudden gesture yielded
herself to his desire, and he kissed her greedily--her lips, her brow,
her hair, her eyes--rapidly, without giving himself time to breathe.

'Elena! Elena!'

A vivid gleam of crimson light reflected from the red brick houses
penetrated the carriage. The ringing trot of several horses came nearer
along the road.

Leaning against her lover's shoulder with ineffable tenderness she
said--'Good-bye, dear love--good-bye--good-bye!'

As she raised herself again, ten or twelve red-coated horsemen passed
to right and left of the carriage returning from a fox hunt. One of
them, the Duke di Beffi, bent low over his saddle to peer in at the
window as he rode by.

Andrea said no more. His whole soul was weighed down by hopeless
depression. The first impulse of revolt over, the childish weakness of
his nature almost led him to give way to tears. He wanted to cast
himself at her feet, to humble himself, to beg and entreat, to move this
woman to pity by his tears. He felt giddy and confused; a subtle
sensation of cold seemed to grip the back of his head and penetrate to
the roots of his hair.

'Good-bye,' repeated Elena for the last time, and the carriage stopped
under the archway of the Porta Pia to let him get out.

CHAPTER VIII

Their final farewells _au grand air_, by Elena's desire, did nothing
towards dissipating Andrea's suspicions. 'What could be her secret
reasons for this abrupt departure?' He tried in vain to penetrate the
mystery; he was oppressed with