lass of
good French wine?"

Fulvia flung herself upon Odo. "Yes--yes; away--take me away from here!"
she cried, clinging to him. She had gathered her cloak about her and
drawn the hood over her disordered hair. "Away! Away!" she repeated. "I
cannot see them again. Good God, is there no other way out?"

With a gesture he warned her to be silent and drew her along the terrace
in the shadow of the house. The gravel creaked beneath their feet, and
she shook at the least sound; but her hand lay in his like a child's and
he felt himself her master. At the farther end of the terrace a flight
of steps led to a narrow strip of shore. He helped her down and after
listening a moment gave a whistle. Presently they heard a low plash of
oars and saw the prow of a gondola cautiously rounding the angle of the
terrace. The water was shallow and the boatmen proceeded slowly and at
length paused a few yards from the land.

"We can come no nearer," one of them called; "what is it?"

"Your mistress is unwell and wishes to return," Odo answered; and
catching Fulvia in his arms he waded out with her to the gondola and
lifted her over the side. "To Santa Chiara!" he ordered, as he laid her
on the cushions beneath the felze; and the boatmen, recognising her as
one of their late fares, without more ado began to row rapidly toward
the city.

3.4.

In the pitying darkness of the gondola she lay beyond speech, her hand
in his, her breath coming fitfully. Odo waited in suspense, not daring
to question her, yet sure that if she did not speak then she would never
do so. All doubt and perplexity of spirit had vanished in the simple
sense of her nearness. The throb of her hand in his was like the
heart-beat of hope. He felt himself no longer a drifting spectator of
life but a sharer in its gifts and renunciations. Which this meeting
would bring he dared not yet surmise: it was enough that he was with
Fulvia and that love had freed his spirit.

At length she began to speak. Her agitation was so great that he had
difficulty in piecing together the fragments of her story; but for the
moment he was more concerned in regaining her confidence than in seeking
to obtain a clear picture of the past. Before she could end, the gondola
rounded the corner of the narrow canal skirting the garden-wall of Santa
Chiara. Alarmed lest he should lose her again he passionately urged her
to receive him on the morrow; and after some hesitation she consented. A
mome