"You shall not!" he cried almost roughly. "You shall not! I, too,--did I give way to that fierce longing,--you shall not yield to that crawling weakness!" But Ilaria interrupted him. "Oh! my dear, I meant not that!" she said. "Of weakness I might reck little, of the hurt to you I should reck much. There is that in my heart for you which shall keep me safe henceforth from what would grieve you!" "What is it then?" he asked relieved. "The comfort,--the stay,--of which you spoke?" She smiled through her tears; the old-time smile. "I do not see your life," he said anxiously. "What is it--what shall it be? Till that be known to me, Ilaria, I shall not know rest or peace. You are beautiful,--too beautiful for this licentious court! Here you cannot remain--alone!" "I fear the twilight," she said, with a shudder. "There is but one goal for me, and, when the hour comes, you shall lead me there. Proserpina will turn Lady of Shadows in very truth, and move veiled through her rose garden." "But why must this thing be?" he queried with a choking sensation. "I, too, have sinned--" "Of sin I know nothing," said Ilaria mournfully, "I apprehend neither the word, nor the thing!" "Then why this last extremity?" "Will you not understand?" she interposed petulantly. "Your presence here has shown me once for all that I may not continue to walk in the old way; I may not walk in yours, and I would not have you walk in mine! You wavered towards it of late! Once upon a time I should have rejoiced; now my spirit is full of fear." She crept close to him and looked up at him with tremulous lids. He caught her to him with all the old-time love in his eyes. All fears, all misgivings, all doubts of the woman he loved, were utterly blotted out in their embrace, and over Ilaria's features there flitted the gleam of a long forgotten happiness. Her look was far away. Of a sudden she turned to Francesco. "Will you remain at Naples?" He gave a shrug. "Days--weeks--who can tell? A Ghibelline victory may turn the tide." "I have something to say to you," she said, her face very close to his. "I have long wished to say it: beware of Raniero!" [Illustration: "He caught her to him with all the old-time love"] "I have done him no wrong!" She made a gesture as one throwing up a libation. "Fonté Gaia!" He felt her breath fanning his cheek. Seized with a sudden madness he threw his arms about her, and kissed her. Where the roads branched off they parted, after a long passionate embrace. Ilaria returned to the palace, while Francesco bent his footsteps towards the bay, shimmering in the light of the higher risen moon. He heard her go singing through the garden, a soft chant d'amour that would have gone wondrously to flute and cithern. It died away slowly amid the trees like an elf's song coming from woodlands in the moonlight.