She looked up at him impatiently. "Oh, Vittorio, why do you insist upon placing me on a pedestal? If I am chaste, it is not from principle, but from--repulsion." She shivered a little. "After all, I'm not a virgin being thrown to the minotaur, you know." Her laugh was unsteady. She clasped her hands more firmly. "But what is there about this man which persuades you against your shrinking flesh? What spell has he cast over you that the rest of us have neglected?" Anne removed her hands from his hold and pressed them to her breast, in a dramatic gesture, unlike herself. "It is here that he gets me. His pitifulness has dug deep into my heart. To cast him away would be like refusing to suckle a starving baby when one's breast was swollen with milk." She suddenly raised her hands to her face and Torrigiani saw that she was weeping. He cried out in dismay. "Anne, Anne, don't cry like that, carissima! Why, I've never seen you cry before! If I have offended, please forgive me. I will go away. I will do anything in the world if only you will stop crying!" Tears trickling through the slim, white fingers, she nodded her head. "Yes, go, Vittorio, dear Vittorio. You can do nothing to change me now, and I cannot bear to hurt you so. Perhaps it would be better if we should never see each other again." Her voice broke. She turned away her head. He put his arms about her trembling shoulders and pressed her to his heart. "No, Anne, that could never be. It is meant that I should love you forever. I will go away--but I shall return. If everything has become too much for you, let me know, and I will come. No matter if it is from Africa. And never forget Anna mia, that my offer holds good forever!" Her head against his shoulder, she stirred uneasily. "Forever? But you forget, Vittorio, that--that I--that things will not be the same?" He trembled as the copper tendrils of her hair swept against his cheek. "I forget--nothing. In the things of the body, it is only the spirit which counts." She raised her head from his shoulder and looked at him from under heavy lids. "How good you are, Vittorio!" she repeated chokingly. Taking his head between her hands, she pressed her lips upon his. "And now, good-by." He held her away from him, and looked lingeringly into her face. A cry escaped him. "Good-by, my Anne, good-by." He released her, and without turning his head, walked swiftly towards the door and closed it quietly behind him. Anne looked after him dully. An odd pain tugged at her heart. The room became strangely vacant. Deserted by the winter sun, paneled walls gleamed wanly. Upon the hearth, the fire lay smothered within its own embers. What had she done? A landmark had been reached and passed; a turning taken. The homely, the familiar highroad lay behind. The perilous forest closed in upon her darkly. With a weary movement she raised her bare arms above her head, and let them fall heavily against her sides.