"Unless--what?" Lamberti asked.

Guido smiled a little.

"Unless there is really something beyond it all, something essentially
true, something absolute by nature."

Lamberti had never known his friend to admit such a possibility even
under a condition.

"At all events," Guido added, "our friendship is true and absolute.
Shall we go home? I feel a little tired."

Lamberti helped him to the carriage and drew the light cover over his
knees before getting in himself. Then they drove down towards the city,
by the long and beautiful drive, past the Acqua Paola and San Pietro in
Montorio.

"You must go and see her this evening," Guido said gently, as they came
near the Palazzo Farnese. "Will you tell her something from me? Tell
her, please, that it would be a little hard for me to talk with her now,
but that she must not think I am not glad that she is going to marry my
best friend."

"Thank you. I will say that." Lamberti's voice was less steady than
Guido's.

"And tell her that I will write to her from the Tyrol."

"Yes."

It was over. The two men knew that their faithful friendship was
unshaken still, and that they should meet on the morrow and trust each
other more than ever. But on this evening it was better that each should
go his own way, the one to his solitude and his thoughts, the other to
the happiest hour of his life.

CHAPTER XXVIII

On the following afternoon Lamberti waited for Cecilia at the Villa
Madama, and she came not long after him, with Petersen. He had been to
the Palazzo Massimo in the evening, and a glance and a sign had
explained to her that all was well. Then they had sat together awhile,
talking in a low tone, while the Countess read the newspaper. When
Lamberti had given Guido's brave message, they had looked earnestly at
each other, and had agreed to tell her mother the truth at once, and to
meet on the morrow at the villa, which was Cecilia's own house, after
all. For they felt that they must be really alone together, to say the
only words that really mattered.

The head gardener had admitted Lamberti to the close garden, by the
outer steps, but had not let him into the house, as he had received no
orders. When Cecilia came, he accompanied her with the keys and opened
wide the doors of the great hall. Cecilia and Lamberti did not look at
each other while they waited, and when the man was gone away Cecilia
told Petersen to sit down in the co