t on.

At last her sobs subsided and she rose to her feet. "I must go back,"
said she in a low tone, and would have passed him.

"Back? To the convent?"

"To the convent," she said after him; but she made no farther effort to
move.

The question that tortured him sprang forth. "You have taken the vows?"

"A month since," she answered.

He hid his face in his hands and for a moment both were silent. "And you
have no other word for me--none?" he faltered at last.

She fixed him with a hard bright stare. "Yes--one," she cried; "keep a
place for me among your gallant recollections."

"Fulvia!" he said with sudden strength, and caught her by the arm.

"Let me pass!" she cried.

"No, by heaven!" he retorted; "not till you listen to me--not till you
tell me how it is that I come upon you here!--Ah, child," he broke out,
"do you fancy I don't see how little you belong in such scenes? That I
don't know you are here through some dreadful error? Fulvia," he
pleaded, "will you never trust me?" And at the word he burned with
blushes in the darkness.

His voice, perhaps, rather than what he said, seemed to have struck a
yielding fibre. He felt her arm tremble in his hold; but after a moment
she said with cruel distinctness: "There was no error. I came knowingly.
It was the company and not the place I was deceived in."

Odo drew back with a start; then, as if in spite of himself, he broke
into a laugh. "By the saints," said he, almost joyously, "I am sorry to
be where I am not wanted; but since no better company offers, will you
not make the best of mine and suffer me to hand you in to supper with
our friends?" And with a low bow he offered her his arm.

The effect was instantaneous. He saw her catch at the balustrade for
support.

"Sancta simplicitas!" he exulted, "and did you think to play the part at
such short notice?" He fell at her feet and covered her hands with
kisses. "My Fulvia! My poor child! come with me, come away from here,"
he entreated. "I know not what mad hazard has brought us thus together,
but I thank God on my knees for the encounter. You shall tell me all or
nothing, as you please--you shall presently dismiss me at your
convent-gate, and never see me again if you so will it--but till then, I
swear, you are in my charge, and no human power shall come between us!"

As he ended the Marquess's voice called gaily through the open window:
"Friends, the burgundy is uncorked! Will you not join us in a g