But to us it seemed as though our shadowy romance had taken form and substance. The graceless daring of Marianus in stationing himself beneath our windows,--or at least beneath a window to which we had possible access; the unholy lateness of the hour,--verging fast upon half-past nine; the seductive moonlight; the ripe profligacy of the cigar;--what was wanting to this night's exquisite adventure! As I knelt breathless in the shadow, my head bobbing against Viola's and Marie's, I thought of Italy, of Venice, of Childe Harold, of everything that was remote, and beautiful, and unconnected with the trammels of arithmetic. I heard Annie Churchill murmur that it was like a serenade; I heard Tony's whispered conjecture as to whether the silent serenader really knew where we slept;--than which nothing seemed less likely;--I heard Elizabeth's warning "Hush!" whenever the muffled voices rose too high above the stillness of the sleeping convent; but nothing woke me from my dreams until Marianus slowly withdrew his shoulder from the supporting tree, and sauntered away, without turning his head once in our direction. We watched him disappear in the darkness; then, closing the window, moved noiselessly back to bed. "Who saw him first?" I asked at the dormitory door. "I did," whispered Elizabeth; "and I called them all. I didn't intend letting Viola know; but, of course, sleeping next to Lilly, she heard me. She ought to be up in the 'Holy Child' dormitory with the other little girls. It's ridiculous having her following us about everywhere." And, indeed, Viola's precocious pertinacity made her a difficult problem to solve. There are younger sisters who can be snubbed into impotence. Viola was no such weakling.