“‘That they were not worth keeping from me, my own. Yet, fear not. I am not without resources. We shall spend a gay month in Paris.’ “And so we did. “We reached that city the next morning and took apartments at the ‘Splendide.’ “If to my rustic mind Brighton had been a delight Paris was now a rapture. “‘Is there,’ I asked of Luigi, after only one day’s experience of the city—‘is there another place in all this world so heavenly as Paris?’ “He looked at me a few seconds in silence, and then replied, with more knowledge than his years could have promised: “‘No, my soul! There is no place on this planet so celestial, or so infernal, as is this city.’ “I stared at him in dismay. “‘Never fear, my love. You shall never see or hear the infernos of the city.’ “That day I took time to write to my father. I had not an hour’s leisure during our mad journeys to do so before. “I told him all the circumstances and all the experiences of outer and inner life that had driven me to take my fate in my own hands and go away with Luigi Saviola to be married. And I gave him all the details of the journey and the ceremony. And I ended by imploring him to forgive us both and to receive us on a visit. “After that act of duty, I plunged with Luigi into all the gayeties of gay Paris, and saw no signs of the ‘infernos.’ Music, the drama, balls, excursions, these filled up our days, for a month of mad rapture. “Then, about the middle of December, we went down to Marseilles, and took a steamer to Naples, where we arrived in health, spirits and safety. “I had often questioned Luigi about his family, but he told me he had none to speak of. He was an only child; his father and mother were among the angels in heaven. His uncle was a priest and missionary in Brazil. His two aunts were nuns—one in a Benedictine convent in France, the other in an Augustine sisterhood in Spain. “I had questioned him about his home. “He had described to me a half ruined and wholly uninhabitable castle situated among the forest-covered mountains of the wild Abruzzo. “But oh! how I longed to go there! All my love of the historic, the romantic, the picturesque was engaged in that longing! “On our landing at Naples I proposed to go. “But he told me that at this season of the year the roads were so very bad as to render the journey impracticable. “He took me to the ‘Vittoria,’ where we rested for a few days. “Here again I wrote to my father, telling him of my first letter, which I feared had never reached him, and repeating at length the story of my marriage, and the plea for his pardon. “I waited weeks for an answer before I gave up hope. “Naples did not offer many sources of amusement, but we availed ourselves of all that was to be obtained.