He was going out of the house, then. She knew that he rarely did so after dark, and she could not help connecting his going with the invitation he had given to Polo and his daughter for the next day. Zoë's imagination instantly spun a thread across the chasms of improbability, and ran along the fairy bridge to the regions of the impossible beyond. He was to be betrothed to Giustina to-morrow, he was going now to settle some urgent matter of business connected with the marriage-contract; or he was betrothed already; yes, and he was to be married in the morning and would bring his bride home; Zoë, in her lonely room upstairs, would hear the noisy feasting of the wedding-guests below---- When the thread broke, leaving her in the unreality, her lip quivered, and she was a little pale. Zeno was standing beside her, holding her hand. 'Good-night, Arethusa,' he said in a tone that frightened her. The words sounded like 'good-bye,' for that was what they might mean; he knew it, and she guessed it. 'You are going away!' she cried, springing to her feet and slipping her hand from his to catch his wrist. 'Not if I can help it,' he answered. 'But you may not see me to-morrow.' 'Not in the evening?' she asked in great anxiety. 'Not even after they are gone?' 'I cannot tell,' he replied gravely. 'Perhaps not.' She dropped his wrist and turned from him. 'You are going to be married,' she said in a low voice. 'I was sure of it.' 'No!' he answered with emphasis. 'Not that!' She turned to him again; it did not occur to her to doubt his word, and her eyes asked him the next question with eager anxiety, but he would not answer. He only repeated the three words, very tenderly and softly-- 'Good-night--Arethusa!' She knew it was good-bye, though he would not say it; she was not guessing his meaning now. But she was proud. He should not see how hurt she was. 'Good-night,' she answered. 'If you are going away--then, good-bye.' Her voice almost broke, but she pressed her lips tight together when the last word had passed them, and though the tears seemed to be burning her brain she would not shed them while his eyes were on her. 'God keep you,' he said, as one says who goes on a long journey. Again he was turning from her, not meaning to look back; but it was more than she could bear. In an inward tempest of fear and pain she had been taught suddenly that she truly loved him more than her soul, and in the same instant he was leaving her for a long time, perhaps for ever. She could not bear it, and her pride broke down. She caught his hand as he turned to go and held it fast. 'Take me with you!' she cried. 'Oh, do not go away and leave me behind!' A silence of three seconds. 'I will come back,' he said. 'If I am alive, I will come back.' 'You are going into danger!' Her hand tightened on his, and she grew paler still.