was she doing? Had she
any plan or idea? Where did she live? As an adventuress, or by chance
meetings? I tried in vain to find out and to explain it. The better I
knew her the more enigmatical she became. She seemed to be a girl of
poor family who had been taken away, and then cast aside and lost. What
did she think would become of her, or whom was she waiting for? She
certainly did not appear to be trying to make a conquest of me, or to
make any real profit out of me.

I tried to question her, to speak to her of her childhood and family;
but she never gave me an answer. I stayed with her, my heart unfettered
and my senses enchained, never wearied of holding her in my arms, that
proud and quarrelsome woman, captivated by my senses, or rather carried
away, overcome by a youthful, healthy, powerful charm, which emanated
from her fragrant person and from the well-molded lines of her body.

Another week passed, and the term of my journey was drawing on, for I
had to be back in Paris by the eleventh of July. By this time Paul had
come to take his part in the adventure, though still grumbling at
me, while I invented pleasures, distractions and excursions to amuse
Francesca and my friend; and in order to do this I gave myself a great
amount of trouble.

One day I proposed an excursion to Sta Margarita, that charming little
town in the midst of gardens, hidden at the foot of a slope which
stretches far into the sea up to the village of Portofino. We three
walked along the excellent road which goes along the foot of the
mountain. Suddenly Francesca said to me: "I shall not be able to go with
you to-morrow; I must go and see some of my relatives."

That was all; I did not ask her any questions, as I was quite sure she
would not answer me.

The next morning she got up very early. When she spoke to me it was in a
constrained and hesitating voice:

"If I do not come back again, shall you come and fetch me?"

"Most certainly I shall," was my reply. "Where shall I go to find you?"

Then she explained: "You must go into the Street Victor-Emmanuel, down
the Falcone road and the side street San-Rafael and into the furniture
shop in the building at the right at the end of a court, and there you
must ask for Madame Rondoli. That is the place."

And so she went away, leaving me rather astonished.

When Paul saw that I was alone, he stammered out: "Where; is Francesca?"
And when I told him what had happened, he exclaimed:

"My d