"That is a mystery I too would like to solve." "The priest must have had some reason for his action," she rejoined. "How awful Angelo looked when he jumped to his feet and glared round on the people! Promise me that you will not leave me alone with him," she said, laying her hand confidingly on my arm. "I feel afraid of him now; I did not think he could be so wild and passionate." I gave her the required promise, knowing that the reason she exacted it was her dread lest the artist should use such opportunity for declaring his love to her. She drew, perhaps unconsciously, nearer to me, and her arm within mine tightened its clasp. At the same time a rose she was wearing in her hat (a flower from the bouquet Angelo had given her the previous day) fell from its stalk. Daphne affected not to notice its fall, and it lay neglected, its petals scattered and withered as the hopes of the donor. "Well, what have they done with Angelo?" said I to my uncle, as that worthy returned to us. "His paroxysm of fury passed off after a few minutes, so they let him go." "Do you think," I whispered, to my uncle as we journeyed homewards, "that Angelo's Madonna had anything to do with his expulsion from the Communion?" "I am pretty sure that it had not," was the reply. "Angelo's was a much more grave offence." CHAPTER IX THE ARTIST FAILS TO SECURE A MODEL On our return from the cathedral I spent the early portion of the morning in writing letters to some college friends at Heidelberg, not forgetting at the same time to send to my uncle's butler telling him to procure another copy of the _Standard_ of the date July 2nd, and to forward it to Rivoli. My uncle, occupying himself with the files of the newspaper in question, was deep in the mazes of politics, and favoured Daphne now and then with extracts from the oratory of statesmen out of office, to the effect that the country was on the eve of ruin, and that nothing but a speedy return of the Opposition to power would ever set matters right--statements which my uncle, who favoured the Opposition, regarded as profoundly true. Daphne yawned at the impending fall of her country without seeming to be much impressed thereby; and finally, putting on her hat, she exclaimed it was a beautiful morning for a stroll, and sauntered leisurely out, expressing a wish that I would follow her as soon as my letters were finished. This I did, and walked down the mountain path in quest of her. Not having seen her by the time I had reached the haunted well, and not knowing in what direction to look for her, I flung myself down on a grassy bank behind the fountain, beneath the shadows of the overhanging foliage, determined to devote five minutes to a cigar before proceeding further.