Filippo got up and paced the room with long strides. Fenice turned and followed him with her eyes, but she showed no signs of such emotion as he in his restlessness evinced. At last he approached, and looking at her for a little, said, "And wherefore do you confess all this to me, my poor child?" "Because I have had seven long years in which to summon up courage to do it. Ah! if only I had confessed it to you then, this cowardly heart of mine would never have caused me such grief. I knew you would come again, Filippo, but I did not think you would have waited so long; that grieved me. But it is childish of me to talk like this. What does it matter now all is past and over? Here you are, Filippo, and here am I; and I am yours for ever and ever!" "Dear child!" said he softly; but then was silent and kept back the words trembling on his lips. She, however, did not notice how silent and absorbed he was as he stood thus before her, gazing above her head at the wall beyond. She went on talking quite calmly; it was as though her own words were all well known to her, as if she had thousands of times pictured to herself: He will come again, and then I will say this or that to him. [Illustration: "FILIPPO PACED THE ROOM WITH LONG STRIDES."] "Many have wanted to marry me, both up here and when I was in Florence. But I would have none but you. When anyone asked me, and made sweet speeches to me, at once I seemed to hear your voice that memorable night--your words, sweeter far than any words ever spoken on this earth. For many years now they have let me be in peace, although I am not old or ugly. It is just as if they all knew that you were soon to come again." Then continuing: "And now, whither will you take me? Will you stay up here? But no, that would never do for you. Since I have been to Florence I know that it is dull up in the mountains. We will sell the house and the flocks, and then I shall be rich. I have had enough of this wild life with the people here. At Florence they were obliged to teach me everything that was proper for a town maiden to know, and they were astonished that I understood it all so quickly. To be sure, I had not much time, and all my dreams told me that it would be up here that you would come to seek me. I have consulted a fortune-teller too, and it has all come to pass as she said." "And what if I already have a wife?" She looked at him in amazement. "You want to try me, Filippo! You have no wife. The gipsy told me that, too. But she could not tell me where you lived." "She was right, Fenice, I have no wife. But how could she or you tell that I ever intended to take one?" "How could you not want to take me?" asked she in unwavering confidence. "Sit down here beside me, Fenice! I have much to tell you. Give me your hand. Promise me that you will hear me quietly and sensibly to the end."