"

Cecilia started and stared at him.

"You said that Guido did not show you my letter!" She was offended as
well as distressed now.

"No; he did not. But I will not pretend that I have guessed your secret.
As Guido lay on his bed talking to me, I was staring at a crumpled sheet
of a letter that lay on the floor. Before I knew what I was looking at I
had read four words: 'I love another man.' When I realised that I ought
not to have seen even that much, I knew, of course, that it was your
writing. You see how much I know. All the same, if you were not what I
know you are, I would call you a heartless flirt to your face."

Again he looked at her steadily, but she said nothing.

"If you are not that," he continued, "you never loved Guido at all, but
really believed you did, because you did not know what love was, and you
are sure that you love this other man with all your heart."

Cecilia was still silent, but a delicate colour was rising in her pale
face.

"Has the other ever made love to you?" Lamberti asked.

"No, no--never!"

She could not help answering him and forgetting that she might have been
offended. She loved him beyond words, he did not know it, and he was
unconsciously asking her questions about himself.

"Is he younger than Guido? Handsomer? Has he a great name? A great
fortune?"

"Are those reasons for loving a man?"

Cecilia asked the question reproachfully, and as she looked at him and
thought of what he was, and how little she cared for the things he had
spoken of, but how wholly for the man himself, her love for him rose in
her face, against her will.

"There must be something about him which makes you prefer him to Guido,"
he said obstinately.

"Yes. But I do not know what it is. Do not ask me about him."

"Considering that you are endangering the life of my dearest friend for
him, I think I have some right to speak of him."

She was silent, and they faced each other for several seconds with very
different expressions. She was pale again, now, but her eyes were full
of light and softness, and there was a very faint shadow of a smile
flickering about her slightly parted lips, as if she saw a wonderful and
absorbing sight. Lamberti's gaze, on the contrary, was cold and hard,
for he was jealous of the unknown man and angry at not being able to
find out who he was. She did not guess his jealousy, indeed, for she did
not suspect what he felt; but she knew that his righteous anger on
Gu