on the Marina. Did she know that I was following her?"

"I think she saw you. She said nothing when I lingered behind. It was as
though she knew."

The Sicilian clasped his hands, and looked away over the sea. The
moonlight fell upon his weary pallid face, and glistened in his dark sad
eyes. He spoke more to himself than her.

"She knew! And yet she would not wait to speak a single word to me! Ah!
it is cruel! If only she could know how night by night, in those
far-distant countries, I have lain on the mountain tops, and wandered
through the valleys, thinking and dreaming of her--always of her! It has
been an evil time with me, my sister, a time of dreary days and
sleepless nights. And this the end of it! My heart is faint and sick
with longing, and I hastened here before it should break. I must see
her, Margharita! Let us hasten on to the villa!"

She laid her hand upon his arm. Her eyes were soft with coming tears.

"Leonardo, listen," she cried. "It is best to tell you. She will not see
you. She is quite firm. She is angry with you for coming."

"Angry with me! Angry because I love her, so that I risk my life just to
see her, to hear her speak! Ah! but that is cruel! Let me go in and
speak to her! Let me plead with her in my own fashion!"

She shook her head.

"Leonardo, the truth is best," she said softly. "Adrienne does not love
you. She is quite determined not to see you again. Even I, pleading with
tears in my eyes, could not persuade her. She has locked herself in her
room while she prepares for the concert. You could not see her unless
you forced yourself upon her, and that would not do."

"No, I would not do that," he answered wearily. "Margharita, there is a
question; I must ask it, though the answer kill me. Is there--any one
else?"

She shook her head.

"There is no one else, Leonardo, yet. But what matter is that, since it
cannot be you? Some day it will come. All that a sister could do, I have
done. She pities you, Leonardo, but she does not love you. She never
will!"

He moved from the open space, where the moonlight fell upon his marble
face, to the shadow of the magnolia grove. He stood there quite silent
for a moment. Then he spoke in a strained, hard voice, which she
scarcely recognized.

"Margharita, you have done your best for me. You do not know what a
man's love is, or you would not wonder that I suffer so much. Yet, if it
must be, it must. I will give her up. I will go back to m