that morning. She was evidently singing for study, as
if she meant to profit by his teaching to the very last moment.

He accompanied her mechanically, wondering what was going to happen
next, and when she had finished he eyed her with curiosity, but said
nothing. She seemed completely changed.

'Why do you look at me in that way?' she asked with great calmness. 'Did
I make any bad mistake?'

He smiled, but not very gaily.

'No,' he answered, 'you made no mistakes at all. You are admirable
to-day! I quite understand that my services are no longer needed, for I
can teach you nothing more!'

'I have done my best to improve under your instructions,' answered
Ortensia primly.

She rested both her elbows on the back of the chair now and looked
calmly out of the window at her favourite tree. Stradella pretended that
his lute needed tuning, turned a peg or two and then turned each back
again, and struck idle chords.

'When you are rested,' he said, 'I am at your service for another song.'

'I am ready,' Ortensia answered with a calmness quite equal to his own.

Pina, watching them from a distance and neglecting her lace-pillow, saw
that something was the matter, and got up to leave the room at least
half-an-hour earlier than usual; but because the Senator might come back
unexpectedly during this last lesson, she went out through the other
door beyond which a broad corridor led to his own apartments, and she
stood where she could not fail to hear his steps in the distance if he
should return.

Ortensia was still standing by her chair when Stradella left his seat
and came towards her, holding his lute in one hand. It did not suit his
male dignity to take leave of her without finding out whether she had
been playing with him or not, though half-an-hour earlier he would not
have believed it possible that vanity could enter into any thought he
had of her.

He stood quite near her, and she met his eyes; she was rather frightened
by his sudden advance, and shrank back behind the chair.

'You will find me in your loggia to-night, outside that window,' he
said, pointing as he spoke. 'I shall be there an hour before midnight,
and I shall wait till it is almost dawn.'

He paused, keeping his eyes on hers. She had started back at the first
words, and now a deep colour had risen in her cheeks; he could not tell
whether it meant anger or pleasure.

'I shall be there,' he repeated; 'I shall be there to say good-bye, if
you