hadow beyond, and in the midst a white
tower which gleamed like snow. "Civitavecchia, my queen among ladies!
Rome beyond it; beyond that Nona--Nona and glorious life for thee and
me!" he cried, as he waved her towards these splendid things.

But Molly snuggled closer to him and sighed.

He, very sensitive to alien moods, was conscious of the jar. "You are
sad, beloved?" he asked her softly. "You are thinking of your own land?"

"No, no, dearest; not that now. I was thinking only--but it is
foolishness of a fool," said Molly, hiding her face.

"You cannot be a fool, blessed one, since you are not so much as human
as I see you now," he whispered, holding her close. "You are a rosy god
at this moment, my treasure. You are all colour of dawn, auroral, colour
of tender fires. Tell me your thought, my holy one."

She whispered it back. "It was--that you will be full of business at
Nona, Amilcare. You will have no time to love your poor Molly."

The rogue was fishing for protestations, and got them.

"Love you!" he cried. "Ah, tell me how long I have to live, and I will
tell you the hours of my love, O my soul!"

"But you will be abroad, a-horseback, with your captains, in the
tents--"

"Why, yes, that must be so," he owned. "But I shall love you the more
for that, Molletta."

She pretended to pout, fidgeted in his arm, arched her neck.

"But how shall I know it, Amilcare, if I am not there?"

"By what I do to you when I return, dearest love," cried he; and
thereafter, speaking by signs, was better understood.

III

MARKET COVERT

They made Rome a day or two after that little tender and exchange of
vows, having disembarked amid a crowd of clamorous Amilcares in
rags--she could see some dear trait of him in each; trailed across the
bleached marches (with the Sabine Hills like a blue hem beyond); caught
the sun at Cervetri, and entered the dusty town by the Porta
Cavalleggieri on one of those beaten white noons when the shadows look
to be cut out of ebony, and the wicked old walls forbidden to keep
still. The very dust seems alive, quivering and restless under heat. St.
Peter's church, smothered in rush mats, was a-building, the marble
blocks had the vivid force of lightning; two or three heretic friars
were being hailed by the Ponte Sant' Angelo to a burning in the Vatican;
Molly was almost blind, had a headache, a back-ache, and a heart-ache.
Amilcare, who had fallen in with a party of lancers by the