inside it, at the mercy of whatever soul, be it angel or demon,
that chooses to enter it and offer you the communion.

'But this is sacrilege--rank sacrilege!'

'Ah, you had better take care! Watch that figure and use plenty of
exorcisms--But there, I am prophesying again! Really, it seems a
weakness of mine.'

'Here we are at the station.'

They both laughed, and all three entered the little station to wait for
the train, which was due in a few minutes. Fernandino a sickly-looking
boy of twelve, was carrying a bouquet which he was to present to Donna
Maria. Andrea, put in excellent spirits by his little conversation with
his cousin, took a tea-rose from the bouquet and stuck it in his
button-hole, then cast a rapid glance over his light summer clothes and
noticed with complaisance that his hands had become whiter and thinner
since his illness. But he did it all without reflection, simply from an
instinct of harmless vanity which had suddenly awakened in him.

'Here comes the train,' said Fernandino.

The Marchesa hurried forward to greet her friend, who was already
leaning out of the carriage window waving her hand and nodding. Her head
was enveloped in a large gray gauze veil which half covered her large
black hat.

'Francesca! Francesca!' she cried with a little tremor of joy in her
voice.

The sound of that voice made a singular impression on Andrea--it
reminded him vaguely of a voice he knew--but whose?

Donna Maria left the carriage with a rapid and light step, and with a
pretty grace raised her veil above her mouth to kiss her friend.
Suddenly Andrea was struck by the profound charm of this slender,
graceful, veiled woman of whose face he saw only the mouth and chin.

'Maria, let me present my cousin to you--Count Andrea Sperelli-Fieschi
d'Ugenta.'

Andrea bowed. The lady's lips parted in a smile that was rendered
mysterious from the rest of the face being concealed by the veil.

The Marchesa then introduced Andrea to Don Manuel Ferres y Capdevila;
then, stroking the hair of the little girl who was gazing at the young
man with a pair of wide-open, astonished eyes, 'This is Delfina,' she
said.

In the carriage, Andrea sat opposite to Donna Maria and beside her
husband. She kept her veil down still; Fernandino's bouquet lay in her
lap and from time to time she raised it to her face to inhale the
perfume while she answered the Marchesa's questions. Andrea was right;
there were tones in her voice exa