p to you. It
is five o'clock.'

'It wants a minute or two yet to the hour. I was hurrying on to receive
you. Forgive me.'

'But you seem quite upset and very pale. Where were you coming from?'

She frowned slightly, regarding him fixedly through her veil.

'From my stables,' Andrea replied, meeting her look unblushingly as
though he had not a drop of blood left to send to his face. 'A horse
that I thought a great deal of has been hurt in the knee--the fault of
the jockey--and now it will not be able to run in the Derby on Sunday.
It has annoyed and upset me very much. Please forgive me, I over-stayed
the time without noticing it. But it is still a few minutes to five.'

'It does not matter. Good-bye. I am going back.'

They had reached the Piazza del Trinita. She stopped and held out her
hand. A furrow still lingered between her brows. With all her great
sweetness of temper, she occasionally had moments of angry impatience
and petulancy that seemed to transform her into another creature.

'No, Maria--come, be kind! I am going up now to wait for you. Go on as
far as the gates of the Pincio and then come back. Will you?'

The clock of the Trinita de' Monti begun to strike.

'You hear that?' he added.

She hesitated for a moment.

'Very well, I will come.'

'Thank you so much! I love you.'

'And I love you.'

They parted.

Donna Maria went on across the piazza and into the avenue. Over her
head, the languid breath of the sirocco sent a broken murmur through the
green trees. Subtle waves of perfume rose and fell upon the warm, damp
breeze. The clouds seemed lower; the swallows skimmed close to the
ground; and in the languorous heaviness of the air there was something
that melted the passionate heart of the Siennese.

Ever since she had yielded to Andrea's persuasions, her heart had been
filled with a happiness that was deeply fraught with fear. All her
Christian blood was on fire with the hitherto undreamed-of raptures of
her passion, and froze with terror at her sin. Her passion was
all-conquering, supreme, immense, so despotic that for hours sometimes
it obliterated all thought of her child. She went so far as to forget,
to neglect Delfina! And afterwards, she would have a sudden access of
remorse, of repentance, of tenderness, in which she covered the
astonished little girl's face with tears and kisses, sobbing in horrible
despair as over a corpse.

Her whole being quickened at this flame, grew keen