her
forehead, deepening her pallor and the lines of weariness under her
eyes. She moved across the room, carrying her head high and advancing
tranquilly to Odo's side. Even in that moment of confused emotions he
was struck by the nobility of her gait and gesture.

She turned to de Crucis, and Odo had the immediate intuition that she
had recognised him.

"Will you let me speak a word privately to the cavaliere Valsecca?" she
said.

The other bowed silently and turned away. The door closed on him, and
Odo and Fulvia remained alone. For a moment neither spoke; then she
said: "That was the abate de Crucis?"

He assented.

She looked at him sadly. "You still believe him to be your friend?"

"Yes," he answered frankly, "I still believe him to be my friend, and,
spite of his cloth, the friend of justice and humanity. But he is here
simply as the Duke's agent. He has been for some time the governor of
Prince Ferrante."

"I knew," she murmured, "I knew--"

He went up to her and caught her hands. "Why do we waste our time upon
him?" he exclaimed impatiently. "Nothing matters but that I am free at
last."

She drew back, gently releasing herself. "Free--?"

"My choice is made. I have resigned my right to the succession. I shall
not return to Pianura."

She continued to stare at him, leaning against the chair from which de
Crucis had risen.

"Your choice is made! Your choice is made!" she repeated. "And you have
chosen--"

"You," he said simply. "Will you go to France with me, Fulvia? Will you
be my wife and work with me at a distance for the cause that, in Italy,
we may not serve together? I have never abandoned the aims your father
taught me to strive for; they are dearer, more sacred to me than ever;
but I cannot strive for them alone. I must feel your hand in mine, I
must know that your heart beats with mine, I must hear the voice of
liberty speak to me in your voice--" He broke off suddenly and went up
to her. "All this is nothing," he said. "I love you. I cannot give you
up. That is all."

For a moment, as he spoke, her face shone with an extraordinary light.
She looked at him intently, as one who seemed to gaze beyond and through
him, at some mystic vision that his words evoked. Then the brightness
faded.

"The picture you draw is a beautiful one," she said, speaking slowly, in
sweet deliberate tones, "but it is not for me to look on. What you said
last is not true. If you love me it is because we have t