alled the day on which
she heard Francesca mention it while looking at Perugino's Archangel
Michael, when they were turning over Andrea's drawings at Schifanoja.
She followed her curiously with her eyes, seized with a sudden vague
fear. Everything connecting Andrea with his former life was distasteful
to her. She wished that that life, of which she knew next to nothing,
could be entirely wiped out of the memory of this man who had flung
himself into it with such avidity and dragged himself out with so much
weariness, so many losses, so many wounds--'To live solely in you and
for you, with no to-morrow and no yesterday--without other bond or
preference--far from the world----' Were not those his words to her?
What a dream!

Matters of very different import were troubling Andrea. It was fast
approaching the Princess of Ferentino's lunch hour.

'Where are you bound for?' he asked of his companion.

'Wishing to make the most of the sunshine, Delfina and I had tea and
sandwiches at Nazzari's and thought of going up to the Pincio and
visiting the Villa Medici. If you would care to come with us----'

He had a moment of painful hesitation. The Pincio, the Villa Medici, on
a February afternoon--with her! But he could not well get out of the
lunch; besides, he was desperately anxious to meet Elena again after
yesterday's episode, for though he had gone to the Angelieris', she did
not put in an appearance.

He therefore answered with an inconsolable air--'How wretchedly
unfortunate! I am obliged to be at a lunch in a quarter of an hour. I
accepted the invitation a week ago, but if I had known, I would have
found some way of getting out of it--What a nuisance!'

'Oh, then you must go without losing a moment--you will be late.'

He looked at his watch.

'I can walk a little further with you.'

'Mamma, do let us go up the steps,' begged Delfina. 'I went up yesterday
with Miss Dorothy. You should see it!'

They turned back and crossed the square. A child followed them
persistently, offering a great branch of flowering almond, which Andrea
bought and presented to Delfina. Blonde ladies issued from the hotels
armed with red Baedekers; clumsy hackney coaches with two horses jogged
past with a glint of brass on their oldfashioned harness; the
flower-sellers thrust their overflowing baskets in front of the
strangers, vociferating at the pitch of their voices.

'Will you promise me,' Andrea said to Donna Maria, as they began to