And recalling to her thought the absent one who was waiting for her, she repeated: "I can not!" Bending over her he anxiously questioned her eyes, the double stars that trembled and veiled themselves. "Why? You love me, I feel it, I see it. You love me. Why will you do me this wrong?" He drew her to him, wishing to lay his soul, with his lips, on her veiled lips. She escaped him swiftly, saying: "I can not. Do not ask more. I can not be yours." His lips trembled, his face was convulsed. He exclaimed "You have a lover, and you love him. Why do you mock me?" "I swear to you I have no desire to mock you, and that if I loved any one in the world it would be you." But he was not listening to her. "Leave me, leave me!" And he ran toward the dark fields. The Arno formed lagoons, upon which the moon, half veiled, shone fitfully. He walked through the water and the mud, with a step rapid, blind, like that of one intoxicated. She took fright and shouted. She called him. But he did not turn his head and made no answer. He fled with alarming recklessness. She ran after him. Her feet were hurt by the stones, and her skirt was heavy with water, but soon she overtook him. "What were you about to do?" He looked at her, and saw her fright in her eyes. "Do not be afraid," he said. "I did not see where I was going. I assure you I did not intend to kill myself. I am desperate, but I am calm. I was only trying to escape from you. I beg your pardon. But I could not see you any longer. Leave me, I pray you. Farewell!" She replied, agitated and trembling: "Come! We shall do what we can." He remained sombre and made no reply. She repeated "Come!" She took his arm. The living warmth of her hand animated him. He said: "Do you wish it?" "I can not leave you." "You promise?" "I must." And, in her anxiety and anguish, she almost smiled, in thinking that he had succeeded so quickly by his folly. "To-morrow?" said he, inquiringly. She replied quickly, with a defensive instinct: "Oh, no; not to-morrow!" "You do not love me; you regret that you have promised." "No, I do not regret, but--" He implored, he supplicated her. She looked at him for a moment, turned her head, hesitated, and said, in a low tone: "Saturday." CHAPTER XVII MISS BELL ASKS A QUESTION