THE night came, and when everyone had gone to bed and the town was quiet, I said to Andrea, 'Wait for me here, and if I do not come back in two hours you will know—'

He interrupted me.

'I am coming with you.'

'Nonsense!' I said. 'I don't know what danger there may be, and there is no object in your exposing yourself to it.'

'Where you go I will go too.'

I argued with him, but he was an obstinate youth.

We walked along the dark streets, running like thieves round corners when we heard the heavy footsteps of the watch. The Palazzo Aste was all dark; we waited outside a little while, but no one came, and I dared not knock. Then I remembered the side door. I still had the key, and I took it from my pocket.

'Wait outside,' I said to Andrea.

'No, I am coming with you.'

'Perhaps there is an ambush.'

'Two are more likely to escape than one.'

I put the key in the lock, and as I did so my heart beat and my hand trembled, but not with fear. The key turned, and I pushed the door open. We entered and walked up the stairs. Sensations which I had forgotten crowded upon me, and my heart turned sick.... We came to an ante-room dimly lit. I signed Andrea to wait, and myself passed into the room I knew too well. It was that in which I had last seen Giulia—the Giulia I had loved—and nothing was altered in it. The same couch stood in the centre, and on it lay Giulia, sleeping. She started up.

'Filippo!'

'At your service, madam.'

'Lucia recognised you in the street yesterday, and she followed you to the house in which you are staying.'

'Yes.'

'My father sent me a message that you were still here, and if I wanted help would give it me.'

'I will do whatever I can for you.'

What a fool I was to come. My head was in a whirl, my heart was bursting. My God! she was beautiful! I looked at her, and suddenly I knew that all the dreary indifference I had built up had melted away at the first look into her eyes. And I was terrified.... My love was not dead; it was alive, alive! Oh, how I adored that woman! I burned to take her in my arms and cover her soft mouth with kisses.

Oh, why had I come? I was mad. I cursed my weakness.... And, when I saw her standing there, cold and indifferent as ever, I felt so furious a rage within me that I could have killed her. And I felt sick with love....

'Messer Filippo,' she said, 'will you help me now? I have been warned by one of the Countess's women that the guard have orders to arrest me to-morrow; and I know what the daughter of Bartolomeo Moratini may expect. I must fly to-night—at once.'

'I will help you,' I answered.

'What shall I do?'

'I can disguise you as a common woman. The mother of my friend Andrea will lend you clothes; and Andrea and I will accompany you. Or, if you prefer, after we have safely passed the gates, he shall accompany you alone wherever you wish to go.'

'Why will you not come?'

'I feared my presence would make the journey more tedious to you.'

'And to you?'

'To me it would be a matter of complete indifference.'

She looked at me a moment, then she cried,—

'No, I will not come!'

'Why not?'

'Because you hate me.'

I shrugged my shoulders.

'I should have thought my sentiments were of no consequence.'

'I will not be helped by you. You hate me too much. I will stay in Forli.'

'You are your own mistress.... Why do you mind?'

'Why do I mind? Shall I tell you?' She came close up to me. 'Because—because I love you.'

My head swam, and I felt myself stagger.... I did not know what was happening.

'Filippo!'

'Giulia!'

I opened my arms, and she fell into them, and I held her close to my heart, and I covered her with kisses.... I covered her mouth and eyes and neck with kisses.

'Giulia! Giulia!'

But I wrenched myself away, and taking hold of her shoulders, said almost savagely.

'But this time I must have you altogether. Swear that you will—'

She lifted her sweet face and smiled, and nestling close up to me, whispered,—

'Will you marry me?'

I kissed her.

'I loved you always,' I said. 'I tried to hate you, but I could not.'

'Do you remember that night at the Palace? You said you had never cared for me.'

'Ah, yes! but you did not believe me.'

'I felt it was not true, but I did not know; and it pained me. And then Claudia—'

'I was so angry with you, I would have done anything to revenge myself; but still I loved you.'

'But, Claudia—you loved her too?'

'No,' I protested, 'I hated her and despised her; but I tried to forget you; and I wanted you to feel certain that I no longer cared for you.'

'I hate her.'

'Forgive me,' I said.

'I forgive you everything,' she answered.

I kissed her passionately; and I did not remember that I too had something to forgive.

The time flew on, and when a ray of light pierced through the windows I started up in surprise.

'We must make haste,' I said. I went into the ante-room and found Andrea fast asleep. I shook him.

'At what time do the gates open?' I asked.

He rubbed his eyes, and, on a repetition of the question, answered, 'Five!'

It was half-past four; we had no time to lose. I thought for a minute. Andrea would have to go to his mother's and find the needful clothes, then come back; it would all take time, and time meant life and death. Then, the sight of a young and beautiful woman might arouse the guard's attention, and Giulia might be recognised.

An idea struck me.

'Undress!' I said to Andrea.

'What?'

'Undress! Quickly.'

He looked at me blankly, I signed to him, and as he was not rapid enough I tore off his coat; then he understood and in a minute he was standing in his shirt while I had walked off with his clothes. I handed them to Giulia and came back. Andrea was standing in the middle of the room, the very picture of misery. He looked very ridiculous.

'Look here, Andrea,' I said. 'I have given your clothes to a lady, who is going to accompany me instead of you. Do you see?'

'Yes, and what am I to do?'

'You can stay with your mother for the present, and then, if you like, you can join me at my house in Città di Castello.'

'And now?'

'Oh, now you can go home.'

He did not answer, but looked at me dubiously, then at his bare legs and his shirt, then again at me. I pretended not to understand.

'You seem troubled, my dear Andrea. What is the matter?'

He pointed to his shirt.

'Well?' I said.

'It is usual to go about in clothes.'

'A broad-minded youth like you should be free from such prejudice,' I answered gravely. 'On such a morning you will find life much pleasanter without hose and doublet.'

'Common decency—'

'My dear boy, are you not aware that our first parents were content with fig-leaves, and are you not satisfied with a whole shirt? Besides, have you not a fine pair of legs and a handsome body; what are you ashamed of?'

'Everyone will follow me.'

'All the more reason to have something to show them.'

'The guard will lock me up.'

'How will the jailor's daughter be able to resist you in that costume!'

Then another idea struck me, and I said,—

'Well, Andrea, I am grieved to find you of so unpoetical a turn of mind; but I will deny you nothing.' I went to Giulia, and taking the clothes she had just cast off brought them to Andrea.

'There!'

He gave a cry of delight, but on seizing them, and discovering petticoats and flounces, his face fell. I leant against the wall and laughed till my sides ached.

Then Giulia appeared, a most fascinating serving-boy....

'Good-bye,' I cried, and hurried down the stairs. We marched boldly to the city gate, and with beating hearts and innocent countenances, passed through and found ourselves in the open country.