d rusty that it
seemed as if the postman never came near it. She put her letter in it
under the ingenuous gaze of St. Mark.

Dechartre saw her, and felt as if a heavy blow had been struck at
his heart. He tried to speak, to smile; but the gloved hand which had
dropped the letter remained before his eyes. He recalled having seen in
the morning Therese's letters on the hall tray. Why had she not put
that one with the others? The reason was not hard to guess. He remained
immovable, dreamy, and gazed without seeing. He tried to be reassured;
perhaps it was an insignificant letter which she was trying to hide from
the tiresome curiosity of Madame Marmet.

"Monsieur Dechartre, it is time to rejoin our friends at the
dressmaker's."

Perhaps it was a letter to Madame Schmoll, who was not a friend of
Madame Marmet, but immediately he realized that this idea was foolish.

All was clear. She had a lover. She was writing to him. Perhaps she was
saying to him: "I saw Dechartre to-day; the poor fellow is deeply in
love with me." But whether she wrote that or something else, she had a
lover. He had not thought of that. To know that she belonged to another
made him suffer profoundly. And that hand, that little hand dropping the
letter, remained in his eyes and made them burn.

She did not know why he had become suddenly dumb and sombre. When she
saw him throw an anxious glance back at the post-box, she guessed the
reason. She thought it odd that he should be jealous without having the
right to be jealous; but this did not displease her.

When they reached the Corso, they saw Miss Bell and Madame Marmet coming
out of the dressmaker's shop.

Dechartre said to Therese, in an imperious and supplicating voice:

"I must speak to you. I must see you alone tomorrow; meet me at six
o'clock at the Lungarno Acciaoli."

She made no reply.

CHAPTER XVI. "TO-MORROW?"

When, in her Carmelite mantle, she came to the Lungarno Acciaoli, at
about half-past six, Dechartre greeted her with a humble look that moved
her. The setting sun made the Arno purple. They remained silent for a
moment. While they were walking past the monotonous line of palaces to
the old bridge, she was the first to speak.

"You see, I have come. I thought I ought to come. I do not think I am
altogether innocent of what has happened. I know: I have done what was
my fate in order that you should be to me what you are now. My attitude
has put thoughts into your hea