"He kissed me almost in a frenzy the moment he got out of the train--as if he had feared he would never see me again. Then all of a sudden his expression changed. Something gloomy, something deprecating, came into his eyes. Has he lost his faith in me? Is there something between us now? Well! of course it's like this at first. To-morrow the constraint will have passed off." To drive away all vestige of fear she spoke to him again; but her heart was thumping uncomfortably, and when she pressed his hand and found it inert and cold, unexplained anxiety again took possession of her. It was almost as bad as her terror during those days when she had been vainly expecting a letter from him. "Oh, what is it?" she thought. "Has he not forgiven me?" "Feel!" she said, putting Antonio's hand against her side. The hand became suddenly animated. "Is your heart still bad?" he asked, as if bethinking himself. "No! It's beating for joy!" she replied, and talked on very fast. "Yesterday I went to the old painted mill, to eat _gnocchi_. It was such fun! There was a splendid sunset. What a character that old miller is!" She told the miller's prophecy, then went on to describe a visit to the Master and his family. "He's a character too! But he's really quite mad. He wants to send the children to Rome--the boy to make his fortune, the girl to become famous. He says----" and she mimicked the Master's speeches and voice. Antonio laughed, but his laugh was cold and contemptuous, and seemed far away. "Oh, what is it?" thought Regina, overwhelmed by unexpected sadness. That scoffing laugh was new in Antonio. He was scornful. Was it of herself? Fancies! Folly! "As soon as we're alone, I'll take him by the shoulders, shake him and cry, 'What on earth's the matter with you? Haven't you forgiven me? Don't let us have any more nonsense, _please_! There has been more than enough!'" They were silent again. The chaise rolled on through the dark warm night, through the pungent perfume of the motionless vegetation. The young trees along the river were black in the darkness, blacker even than the darkness. Everything was silent, everything exhaled sweet odours. From the hot ground, from the damp wayside weeds, from the paths bathed in dew, rose an intoxicating scent, a silent breath, dreamy and voluptuous. Beside every bush seemed to stand a woman waiting for her lover, her desire and her joy filling the emptiness of the hot, rich night. "To-morrow we'll go out by moonlight," said Regina, who could not keep quite silent. "The night I arrived there was a beautiful moon, wasn't there, Petrin?" The driver made no reply. "He's asleep. We shall be upset," said Antonio. "Oh, no! The old horse is quite used to it," returned Regina, and sure now that Petrin was not listening, she added, softly, "How wretched I was that evening!" "Were you?" said Antonio, as if remembering nothing of what had passed.