etween nuns and visitors would probably not be too strictly maintained.
As he had foreseen, the company, attracted by the graceful procession,
pressed forward regardless of the assistant mistresses' protests, and
the shadowy arcades were full of laughter and whispered snatches of talk
as the white flock was driven back to its fold.

Odo had withdrawn to the darkest angle of the cloister, close to a door
leading to the pharmacy. It was here that Fulvia had told him to wait;
and though he had lost sight of her when the audience rose, he stood
confidently watching for the reappearance of the myrtle-wreath.
Presently he saw it close at hand; and just then the line of sisters
flowed toward him, driven forward by a group of lively masqueraders,
among whom he seemed to recognise Coeur-Volant's voice and figure.
Nothing could have been more opportune, for the pressure swept the
wearer of the myrtle-wreath almost into his arms; and as the intruders
were dispersed and the nuns laughingly reformed their lines, her hand
lingered in his and he felt himself drawn toward the door.

It yielded to her touch and Odo followed her down a dark passageway to
the empty room where rows of old Faenza jars and quaintly-shaped flagons
glimmered in the dusk. Beyond the pharmacy was another door, the key of
which hung on the wall with the portress's hood and cloak. Without a
word the girl wrapped herself in the cloak and, fitting the key to the
lock, softly opened the door. All this was done with a rapidity and
assurance for which Odo was unprepared; but, reflecting that Fulvia's
whole future hung on the promptness with which each detail of her plan
was executed, he concluded that her natural force of character enabled
her to assume an ease she could hardly feel.

The door opened on the kitchen-garden, and brushing the lavender-hedges
with her flying skirts she sped on ahead of Odo to the postern which the
nuns were accustomed to use for their nocturnal escapades. Only the
thickness of an oaken gate stood between Fulvia and the outer world. To
her the opening of the gate meant the first step toward freedom, but to
Odo the passing from their enchanted weeks of fellowship to the inner
loneliness of his former life. He hung back silent while she drew the
bolt.

A moment later they had crossed the threshold and his gondola was
slipping toward them out of the shadow of the wall. Fulvia sprang on
board and he followed her under the felze. The warm dar