"Have you thought of where you would like to go first?" "Yes! I have thought and decided! I want you to take me to Italy--to St. Vito, where we were married, and to the vine-dresser's cottage, in the Apennines, where we passed the first days of our marriage, and the happiest days of our lives." "It will be very sad for you there," said Waldemar, compassionately. "Yes! I know it will be so without you! for of course I must live without you! and though I do not love you as I used to do, because love has perished out of my soul, still, I know, there in that place where we were so happy in our honeymoon, I shall be always comparing the happy days that _were_ with the sorrowful days that _are_!" "But still, if that is so, why do you go there?" "Oh, Waldemar, it is the only place for me! I cannot go among entire strangers. I am such a coward. I am afraid in my loneliness: I should be driven to despair or to insanity, or worse than all, to the unpardonable sin of suicide! I dare not go among strangers, nor dare I go among people who know me as the Duchess of Hereward, or knew me as Valerie de la Motte, for they would scorn and abhor me, and their company would be far worse than the very worst solitude. No! I must go to the vine-dresser's cottage in the Apennines. Good Beppo and Lena knew me only as your wife and loved me dearly, and wept bitter tears when my father tore me away from you. They will be glad to see poor Valerie again! And the good Father Antonio, who married us! He loved us both! He will comfort and counsel me. Yes, Waldemar! St. Vito is my City of Refuge, and the vinedresser's cottage my only possible home. Take me there and leave me in peace." "I believe you are right, Valerie. By what train would you like to leave Paris? There is an express that starts at seven. Could you be ready for that?" "Yes! yes! thanks! I can be ready for that!" "Shall you take your maid with you?" "No. I shall pay her and discharge her with a present." "Then I shall have to secure only two seats. I will get a coupe, if it be possible." "Anything you like! Go now, Waldemar!" Count de Volaski pressed her hand and withdrew; but before leaving the room he turned back and inquired: "Shall I come here for you, or shall I meet you at the station?" "Meet me at the station, of course! Spare my poor name as long as it can be spared! In twenty-four hours it will be in everybody's mouth, and the worst that can be said of it will seem too good! And yet they will all be wrong, and I shall not deserve their condemnation." Count de Volaski waved his hand, and hurried from the room and the house, for he had many hasty preparations to make for the sudden journey.