"Annunziata is so much better, I can easily be spared," said Maria Dolores; "and anyhow--'tis needs must. I think you will probably soon receive a letter from my brother, asking you to visit him. Mischenau is a place worth seeing, in its northern style. And, in his northern style, my brother is a man worth meeting. I counsel you to go." "I shall certainly go," said John. "I shall linger here at Sant' Alessina like a soul in durance, counting the hours till my release. I shall be particularly glad to meet your brother, as I have matters of importance to arrange with him." "Until then," said she, smiling, "I think we must do with those--matters of importance"--her voice quavered on the word--"what is it that the Pope sometimes does with Cardinals?" "Yes," moodily consented John, "I suppose we must. But oh me, what a dreary, blank, stale, and unprofitable desolation this garden will become,--and at every turn the ghost of some past joy!" Annunziata looked up with eyes that seemed omniscient. "I was thinking about you," she greeted them. "About which of us?" asked John. "About both of you. I always now, since a long while, think of you both together. I think Maria Dolores is the dark woman whom Prospero is to marry." John laughed. Maria Dolores looked out of the window. "And I was thinking," Annunziata went on, "how strange it was that if you hadn't both at the same time just happened to come to Sant' Alessina, you might have lived and died and never have known each other." "Perish that thought," laughed John. "But I have sometimes thought it myself." "And then," Annunziata rounded out her tale, "I thought that perhaps you had not just happened--that probably you had been led." "That is a thing I haven't a doubt of," John with energy affirmed. "You look as if you were very glad about something--both of you," said Annunziata, those omniscient eyes of hers studying their faces. "What is it that you are both so glad of?" "We are so glad to find you feeling so well," answered Maria Dolores. But Annunziata shook her head, as one who knew better. "No--that is not the only thing. You are glad of something else besides." "There's no taking you in," said John. "But we are under bonds to treat that Something Else as the Pope sometimes treats Princes of the Church." "He gives them red hats," said Annunziata. "I shall give this thing a crown of myrtle," said John. "You sometimes say things that sound as if they hadn't any sense," Annunziata informed him, with patient indulgence, nodding at the ceiling. Maria Dolores leaned over the bed, and kissed Annunziata's brow. "Good night, carina," she murmured.