Regina was certainly the clearer-sighted of the two, and she now saw a mysterious thing. Once it was her soul which had escaped Antonio, hiding itself behind a world of littlenesses, of vanity, of vain desires and ambitions; now, on the contrary, it was his soul which some occult and violent force was trying to wrest away from her. She attempted to fathom this mystery. "What is it? He loves me; he has forgiven me! But he mistrusts, is afraid of me. Why is this?" "Regina," said Antonio, "you must explain to me what you are intending to do." "You know already." "I don't. I don't understand. Your last letter was even worse and uglier than the first. I am not going to reproach you--as you say, it would be useless; but another man in my place--well, never mind! You have told me more than a hundred times that I don't understand you. Now, to show you at least my good-will, I ask you to explain." "But didn't I write it?" she cried, half humble, half pettish. "I wrote, 'It all depends upon you.'" "Do you mean you will come back with me to Rome?" "Yes." "Oh, very well. I am quite ready to forget all that has taken place. But now I must know one thing more. Why have you given up your idea so soon? I say _idea_, not caprice, because it has seemed to me, and seems still, a very serious matter." "How can I tell? Are we able to explain our ideas or caprices, or whatever you choose to call them? Have you never contradicted yourself? One thinks one way to-day, another to-morrow. Are we masters of ourselves? You said a minute ago, 'If I were another man.' I understood what you meant; that if you had been another man you would have ill-treated, insulted me. But, on the contrary, you are very kind--perhaps kinder than before. Can you explain to yourself why, instead of hating me for the trick I have played you, you care for me perhaps more than before?" She spoke not entirely of conviction; but she wished to suggest to Antonio the line he had better take. She believed she had succeeded, for he became thoughtful as if repeating her questions to himself, and presently said with a slight smile-- "Well, I dare say you are right!" "Don't let us say any more about it," cried Regina, imitating the Master again. "It has been a freak--a folly of youth. Let us draw a veil over the past." "You know you have humiliated me," urged Antonio; "it was a blow in my face--a betrayal--and besides----" "Oh, don't we all make mistakes? What about all the other women? Those who really betray their husbands?"