unt's, and when I saw her, I felt as if I had always
known her and loved her. No one can explain such things. Then by a
strange coincidence we dreamt the same dream, on the same night."

"Was it she whom you met in the Forum, and who ran away from you?" asked
Guido, in astonishment.

"Yes. That is the reason why we always avoided each other, and why I
would not go to their house till you almost forced me to. We had never
spoken alone together till the garden party. It was then that we found
out that our dreams were alike, and after that I kept away from her more
than ever, but I dreamt of her every night."

"So that was your secret, that afternoon!"

"Yes. We had dreamt of each other and we had met in the Forum in the
place we had dreamt of, and she ran away without speaking to me. That
was the whole secret. She was afraid of me, and I loved her, and was
beginning to know it. I thought there was something wrong with my head
and went to see a doctor. He talked to me about telepathy, but seemed
inclined to consider that it might possibly be a mere train of
coincidences. I think I have told you everything."

For a long time they sat side by side in silence, each thinking his own
thoughts.

"Is there anything you do not understand?" Lamberti asked at last.

"No," Guido answered thoughtfully. "I understand it all. It was rather a
shock at first, but I am glad you have told me. Perhaps I do not quite
understand why she wishes to see me."

"We both wish to be sure that you bear us no ill-will. I am sure she
does, and I know that I do."

There was a pause again.

"Do you think I am that kind of friend?" Guido asked, with a little
sadness. "After what you have done, too?"

"I am afraid my mere existence has broken up your life, after all,"
Lamberti answered.

"You must not think that. Please do not, my friend. There is only one
thing that could hurt me now that it is all over."

"What is that?"

"I am not afraid that it will happen. You are not the kind of man to
break her heart."

"No," Lamberti answered very quietly. "I am not."

"It was only a dream for me, after all," Guido said, after a little
while. "You have the reality. She used to talk of three great questions,
and I remember them now as if I heard her asking them: 'What can I know?
What is it my duty to do? What may I hope?' Those were the three."

"And the answers?"

"Nothing, nothing, nothing. Those are my answers. Unless----"

He stopped.