now knew that the more she tried to focus her
thoughts upon Giovanni, the more they turned to another quite different
personality. Until at last, as in a burst of light, she awoke to the
consciousness that the words of Ruth were bringing a great longing for
the sight of a certain pair of eyes whose expression was like those in
the canvas! "'Whither thou goest, I will go----' Ah!"--exultantly and
with no fear of doubt; it was true! To the uttermost parts of the
earth! . . .

But she must tell Giovanni--she must tell him at once, decidedly and
finally, "No."

Sadly, regretfully, she crossed the room again, her hand slipped through
the great Dane's collar as though to gain encouragement from his
presence. In the antechamber of the room where Giovanni lay, she stopped
and kissed St. Anthony's head--as though the dog in turn might help
Giovanni to understand that she was not in truth as heartless as she
seemed.

The stone floors were covered with thick rugs, the hangings were heavy,
and her light footfall made no sound. Without warning she parted the
_portieres_, took one step across the threshold, and halted,
stunned--the Contessa Potensi was kneeling beside Giovanni's couch, and
the sound of Giovanni's voice came distinctly, saying, "For her? But no!
But because she is of the household of the Sansevero." And then with an
ardor that made the tones which he had used to her sound flat and
shallow by comparison, she heard him say, "_Carissima_, I swear I shall
never love another as I love you."

The _portieres_ fell together, and Nina fled. Two or three times she
lost her way in the endless turnings of the palace before she finally
reached her own room. Once there, she wrote the shortest note
imaginable, declining in terse and positive terms Giovanni's offer of
marriage. The pen nearly dug through the paper as she signed her name.
Besides giving Celeste this missive to deliver, she sent her upon a tour
of trivial shopping--anything to be left alone.

When the door was closed, Nina threw herself across the bed, still
hardly able to credit her senses. Giovanni had asked her, Nina, to be
his wife, not half an hour before--he still had the effrontery to hope
for a change in her answer. He had dared to tell her that he loved her,
he had dared to call her, too, "_Carissima!_"

With her head buried in the pillows, she did not hear the door open, and
the princess reached the bed and took Nina in her arms before the girl
knew t