s shoulders
and he saw two little hands hanging on his breast. "No! no! Play, play!"
Luisa murmured, for Franco had grasped the hands; but, without
answering, his head thrown back, he sought her, sought her lips and her
eyes, and she kissed him and then raised her face, repeating, "Play." He
drew the imprisoned wrists still farther down, silently praying for the
sweet, sweet mouth: then she surrendered, and pressed her lips upon his
in a long kiss, full of understanding, and infinitely more exquisite,
more exhilarating than the first. Then she once more whispered, "Play."

And in his happiness he played the music of triumph, full of joy and of
cries. For at that moment it seemed to him he possessed the soul of this
woman in its entirety, whereas sometimes, even though convinced that she
loved him, he seemed to feel in her that lofty reason, towering serene
and cold, above love itself, and far beyond the reach of his
enthusiasms. She would often place her hands upon his head, and from
time to time kiss his hair softly. She was aware of her husband's
doubts, and always protested that she was all his, but in her heart she
knew he was right. There was in her a tenacious, fierce sense of
intellectual independence which withstood love. She could judge her
husband calmly, recognising his imperfections, but she felt he was not
capable of doing the same, felt how humble he was in his love, in his
boundless devotion. She did not think she was unjust to him, she felt no
remorse, but she was touched with loving pity when she pondered these
things. Now she guessed the meaning of this joyous musical outpouring,
and, deeply moved, she embraced Franco and the piano became suddenly
silent.

* * * * *

Uncle Piero's slow, heavy step was heard on the stairs; he was returning
from his St. Bernard.

It was eight o'clock, and the usual _tarocchi_-players, Signors Giacomo
and Pasotti, had not yet arrived, for in September Pasotti himself
became a regular visitor at Casa Ribera, where he pretended to be in
love with the engineer, with Luisa, and even with Franco. Franco and
Luisa suspected some duplicity, but Pasotti was an old friend of the
uncle's, and must be tolerated out of respect to him. As the players
failed to appear Franco proposed to his wife that they should go out in
the boat to enjoy the moon. First, however, they went to see Maria, who
was asleep in her little bed in the alcove, her head droopi