I did not contradict her, seeing that her heart was set on such things; nevertheless, I knew better than she. "You do not believe!" she said suddenly, for I think from the first she read my heart like a printed book. "You do not understand! Well, I do not ask you to believe. You do not know me yet, though I know you. Some day you will have proof!" "I believe everything you tell me," I answered fervently. "Remember," she said, lifting a finger at me--"only enough and not too much. Tell me what is your idea of the place where I could be happy." This I could answer, for I had thought of it. "In a town of clear rivers and marble palaces," I answered, "where there are brave knights to escort fair ladies and save them from harm. In a city where to be a woman is to be honoured, and to be young is to be loved." "And you, young seer, that are of the moorland and the heather," she said, "where would you be in such a city?" "As for me," I said, "I would stand far off and watch you as you passed by." "Ah, Messer Dante Alighieri, do not make a mistake. I am no Beatrice. I love not chill aloofness. I am but Lucia, here to-day and gone to-morrow. But rather than all rhapsodies, I would that you were just my friend, and no further off than where I can reach you my hand and you can take it." So saying, because we came to the little bridge where the pines meet overhead, she reached me her hand at the word; and as it lay in mine I stooped and kissed it, which seemed the most natural thing in the world to do. She looked at me earnestly, and I thought there was a reproachful pity in her eyes. "Friend of mine, you will keep your promise," she said. I knew well enough what promise it was that she meant. "Fear not," I replied; "I promise and I keep." Yet all the while my heart was busy planning how through all the future I might abide near by her side. We turned and walked slowly back. The hotel stood clear and sharp in the morning sunshine, and a light wind was making the little waves plash on the pebbles with a pleasant clapping sound. "See," she said, "here is my brother coming to meet us. Tell me if you have been happy this morning?" "Oh," I said quickly, "happy!--you know that without needing to be told." "No matter what I know," the Countess said, with a certain petulance, swift and lovable--"tell it me." So I said obediently, yet as one that means his words to the full-- "I have been happier than ever I thought to be this morning!" "Lucia!" she said softly--"say Lucia!" "Lucia!" I answered to her will; yet I thought she did not well to try me so hard. Then her brother came up briskly and heartily, like one who had been a-foot many hours, asking us how we did. CHAPTER VIII THE CRIMSON SHAWL