am at home again, and life is sweet!"

And suddenly and dexterously he flung the boughs past her in at the open
window, laughed at his success till the teeth flashed again in his dusky
face, kissed both his hands and ran down the steps, singing in a ringing
recitative something where the _bella bellas_ echoed and reechoed each
other through the evening as far as they could be heard at all.

Eve smiled to herself, gathered up the scattered boughs, and went into
the lighted room behind, where her gay companions clustered, appearing
at the door thus laden, and with a blush upon her brow.

"Mamma," said she, her lovely head bent on one side and ringed with
gloss beneath the burner, "the fruit is fresh, whether you call it
cherry or _ciriegia_." And straightway planting herself at her mother's
feet, taper fingers twinkled among shadowy leaves till the boughs were
bare of their juicy burden, and they all made merry together upon the
spoils of Luigi.

* * * * *

July was following June in sunshine down the slope of the year, and Eve,
pursuing her pleasures, might almost have forgotten that an image-boy
existed, had Luigi allowed her to forget. But he was omnipresent as a
gnat.

As she walked from church on the next Sunday afternoon alone, gazing at
her shadow by the way, she started to see another shadow fall beside it.
In spite of his festal midsummer attire of white linen, a sidelong
glance assured her that it was Luigi; yet she did not raise her eyes. He
continued by her, in silence, several steps.

"Signorina Eve," said he then, "I went that I might worship with you."

But Eve had no reply.

"My prayer mounted with yours,--may he forgive, _il padre mio_," said
Luigi. "_Ebbene!_ It is not lovely there. It is cold. Your heaven would
be a dreary place, perhaps. Come rather to mine!" For they approached a
little chapel, the crystallization in stone of a devout fancy, and
through the open doors rolling organ, purple incense, and softened light
invited entrance. "It is the holy vespers," said the boy. "_Ciascuno
alia sua volta._ The Signorina enters,--_forse?_"

"Not to-day," answered Eve, gently.

"Kneel we not," then faltered he, "before one shrine,--although," and he
grew angry with his hesitation, "at different gates?"

"Ah, certainly," said Eve. "But now I must go home."

"The Signorina refuses to come with me, then!" he exclaimed, springing
forward so that he opposed her prog