great joy if she would have let it; but
yet she would not. It was too soon yet to say aloud what she said in her
heart daily, that she loved Giovanni with a great love, and that she knew
she was free to love him. In that thought there was enough of joy. But he
might come if he would; her anger would not be great if he broke his
promise now, he had kept it so long--six whole months. But by-and-by,
as the days passed, the first note of happiness was marred by the
discordant ring of a distant fear. What if she had too effectually
forbidden him to see her? What if he had gone out disappointed of all
hope, and was really in distant Scandinavia, as the papers said, risking
his life in mad adventures?

But after all, that was not what she feared. He was strong, young,
brave--he had survived a thousand dangers, he would survive these also.
There arose between her and the thought of him an evil shadow, the image
of a woman, and it took the shape of Donna Tullia so vividly that she
could see the red lips move and almost hear the noisy laugh. She was
angry with herself at the idea, but it recurred continually and gave her
pain, and the pain grew to an intolerable fear. She began to feel that
she must know where he was, at any cost, or she could have no peace. She
was restless and nervous, and began to be absent-minded in her
conversation with Sister Gabrielle. The good woman saw it, and advised a
little change--anything, an excursion of a day for instance. Corona, she
said, was too young to lead this life.

Her mind leaped at the idea. It was but half a day's ride, he had said;
she would climb those hills and look down upon Saracinesca--only once.
She might perhaps meet some peasant, and by a careless inquiry she would
learn whether he was there--or would be there in the summer. No one would
know; and besides, Sister Gabrielle had said that an excursion would do
Corona good. Sister Gabrielle had probably never heard that Saracinesca
was so near, and she certainly would not guess that the Duchessa had any
interest in its lord. She announced her intention, and the Sister
approved--she herself, she said, was too weak to undergo the fatigue.

On the following morning, Corona alone entered her carriage and was
driven many miles up the southward hills, till the road was joined by a
broad bridle-path that led eastwards towards the Abruzzi. Here she was
met by a party of horsemen, her own _guardiani_, or forest-keepers, as
they are cal