"Does his Highness think that the Signorina resembles her sister, the Contessa?" asked the peasant woman for the sake of a detaining word. "Not at all," answered the visitor, and he passed into the open road. Then he turned over in his hand the letter which he had taken from the laurel. Though he had read it thee times he hardly understood as yet, and his face was the face of one who sees that the incredible has come to pass. The letter was made up of fifteen closely written pages, and it told the story of a young clergyman, who, convinced at last that celibacy and the shelter of the Roman priesthood were his true vocation, had, after long prayer and much mediation, decided to flee the snares of the world and to renounce its joys for the sake of bliss the other side of life. "When you receive this letter, my dear Daphne," wrote Eustace Denton, "I shall have been taken into the brotherhood of Saint Ambrose, for I wish to place myself in a position where there will be no retracing my steps." The face of the reader on the Roman hills, as it was lifted from the page again to the sunshine, was full of the needless pity of an alien faith. Along the white road that led up the mountain, and over the grass-grown path that climbed the higher slopes, trod a solitary traveler. Now his step was swift, as if some invisible spirit of the wind were wafting him on; and again the pace was slow and his head bent, as if some deep thought stayed his speed. There were green slopes above, green slopes below, and the world opened out as he climbed on and up. Out and out sketched the great Campagne, growing wider at each step, with the gray, unbroken lines of aqueduct leading toward Rome and the shining sea beyond. * * * * * On a great flat stone far up on the heights sat two motionless figures: below them, partly veiling the lower world, floated a thin mist of cloud. "This must be Olympus," said Daphne. "Any mountain is Olympus that touches the sky," answered Apollo. "Where are the others?" demanded the girl. "Am I not to know your divine friends?" "Don't you see them?" he asked as in surprise,--"Aphrodite just yonder in violet robe, and Juno, and Hermes with winged feet"-- "I am afraid I am a wee bit blind, being but mortal," answered Daphne. "I can see nothing but you." Beside them on the rock, spread out on oak leaves, lay clusters of purple grapes, six black ripe olives, and a little pile of biscotti Inglesi. The girl bent and poured from the curving flask red wine that bubbled in the glass, then gave it to her companion, saying: "Quick, before Hebe gets here," and the sound of their merriment rung down the hillside. "Hark!" whispered Daphne. "I hear an echo of the unquenchable laughter of the gods! They cannot be far away."