occasions on which Maria Ferres had joined
in any social function.

Why should these doubts and suspicions, beaten down and stifled under
the flood of her passion, rise up again now with so much vehemence? Why
had she not the strength to repress them or put them away from her
altogether? The least touch brought them up to the surface as lively as
ever.

Her distress and unhappiness increased with every moment. Her heart was
not satisfied; the dream that had risen up within her on that mystical
morning under the flowering trees in sight of the sea, had not come
true. All that was purest and fairest in that love had remained down
there in the sequestered glades in the symbolical forest that bloomed
and bore fruit perpetually in contemplation of the Infinite.

She stood and leaned against the parapet that looks towards San
Sebastianello. The ancient oaks, their foliage so dark as almost to seem
black, spread a sombre artificial roof over the fountain. There were
great rents in their trunks filled up with bricks and mortar like the
breaches in a wall. Oh, the young arbutus-trees all radiant and
breathing in the light! The fountain, dripping from the higher into the
lower basin, moaned at intervals, like a heart that fills with anguish
and then overflows in a torrent of tears; oh, the melody of the Hundred
Fountains in the laurel avenue! The city lay as dead, as if buried under
the ashes of an invisible volcano, silent and funereal as a city ravaged
by the plague, enormous, shapeless, dominated by the cupola that rose
out of its bosom like a cloud. Oh, the sea, the tranquil sea!

Her uneasiness increased. An obscure menace emanated from these things.
She was seized with the feeling of terror she had already experienced on
so many occasions. Across her pious spirit there flashed once more the
thought of punishment.

Nevertheless, the recollection that her lover awaited her, thrilled her
to the heart's core; at the thought of his kisses, his caresses, his mad
endearments, her blood was on fire and her soul grew faint. The thrill
of passion triumphed over the fear of God. She turned her steps towards
her lover's house with all the palpitating emotion of her first
rendezvous.

'At last!' cried Andrea, gathering her into his arms, and drinking the
breath from her panting lips.

He took one of her hands and held it against his breast.

'Feel my heart. If you had stayed away a minute longer, it would have
broken.'

But