ctim.

CHAPTER III

The next day, according to their agreement at the concert, Andrea found
Donna Maria in the Piazza di Spagna with Delfina, looking at the antique
jewellery in a shop window. At the first sound of his voice she turned,
and a bright flush stained the pallor of her cheek. Together they then
examined the eighteenth-century jewels, the paste buckles and hair
ornaments, the enamelled watches, the gold and ivory tortoise-shell
snuff-boxes, all these pretty trifles of a by-gone day which afforded an
impression of harmonious richness under the clear morning sun.
Everywhere about them, the flower-sellers were offering yellow and white
jonquils, double violets, and long branches of flowering almond. There
was a breath of Spring in the air. The column of the Immaculate
Conception rose lightly into the sunshine, like a flower stem with the
_Rosa mystica_ on its summit; the Barcaccia glistened in a shower of
diamonds, the stairway of the Trinita opened its arms gaily towards the
church of Charles VIII., the two towers of which stood out boldly
against the blue cloud-flecked sky.

'How exquisite!' exclaimed Donna Maria. 'No wonder you are so deeply
enamoured of Rome!'

'Oh, you don't know it yet,' Andrea replied, 'I wish I might be your
guide'--she smiled--'and undertake a pilgrimage of sentiment with you
this spring.'

She smiled again, and her whole person assumed a less grave and
chastened air. Her dress, this morning, had a quiet elegance about it,
but revealed the refined taste of an expert in style and in the delicate
combinations of colour. Her jacket, of a shade of gray inclining to
green, was of cloth trimmed round the edge with beaver and opening over
a vest of the same fur, the blending of the two tones--indefinable gray
and tawny gold--forming a harmony that was a delight to the eye.

'What did you do yesterday evening?' she asked.

'I left the concert-hall a few minutes after you and went home; and I
stayed there because I seemed to feel your spirit near me. I thought
much. Did you not _feel_ my thought?'

'No, I cannot say I did. I passed a very cheerless evening. I do not
know why. I felt so dreadfully alone!'

The Contessa di Lucoli passed in her dog-cart, driving a big roan.
Giulia Moceto, accompanied by Musellaro, passed on foot, and then Donna
Isotta Cellesi.

Andrea bowed to each. Donna Maria asked him the names of the ladies.
That of Giulia Moceto was not new to her. She rec