He interrupted. “It's not absurd at all--to you and me. If it's absurd, then Art is pastry-cook-stuff: sugar and white-of-egg. The man who fashioned these things had walked with God. Here are his secrets, revealed to you and me.” She followed her own thoughts, not his. “I came to--day because I have made up my mind. I wanted them to confirm me--to say that I was right. If you weren't here, I should go up to them and whisper to them, as I've seen women do to the Madonna abroad. I should tell them everything.” He looked at her keenly. “Do it now. I'll leave you.” She smiled faintly. “No, don't leave me. I couldn't do it now. But I meant to when I came in.” “You didn't think that I might be here?” He watched her. “No. I remember that you said we were to meet on Thursday. And I have a great deal to think of; I'm in great trouble.” “I know you are,” he said. “I fear to be impertinent; but if I can help you---” She gave him a grateful look. Her trouble was very real, and made almost a child of her. “I should value your advice. It would help me to have it--even if it couldn't change my intentions.” “You shall have it, assuredly,” he said. “Shall we find a seat?” “No, no. I would rather stop where we are. Perhaps they'll hear us.” They looked at each other and smiled at a shared sentiment. “Tell me, then,” he said. “He wants me to marry him,” she said hurriedly, “and I think that I must. All my people wish it, and my friends--I mean those who have known me for a long time. I don't mind very much about most of them; but one of my sisters--Vicky--who was always my closest friend, expects it--and it would break my father's heart if I did not do it. The others don't count; but those two do. And there are other things--one other person who would think I am doing right.” “Would you”--Morosine spoke slowly, addressing the statues--“would you consider the possibility of marrying any one else?” She spoke as one in a trance. “No--I couldn't--I shouldn't dare. Besides, there is no possibility--there would be Papa and Vicky again. That would never satisfy them. And then I feel that it's my punishment--if I deserve punishment, as they all imply that I do. At any rate, it's part of my bargain. I began this thing, and I must go on with it, at all costs to myself. I mustn't think of myself in it at all. I'm only part of the world's plan; but I happen to know that I am; and so I must go where I am called to go. I must follow my Destiny, just as I did at first. That time I followed it against everybody's opinion; this time I must follow against my own will. Don't you agree with me?” Morosine reflected in silence. Then he said, “Yes, I agree with you. I recommend you to follow your determination.” Her eyes looked blankly at him; for the first moment he thought her disappointed, but he corrected his impression in the second. “I'm glad you agree with me,” she said. “I should have been disappointed if you hadn't.”