“In the evening? Ah! That is many seconds from now.”
“I can’t come before, but I’ll be here as early as possible. For that you have my word.”
“Where are you stopping?”
“On board the vessel that brought me from the North, the Esperanza.”
“The Esperanza? The fort at Lillo is nearer to me!”
“At Lillo perhaps the commander would think me well enough for duty. I should have a garrison routine and would not be my own master to come to see you at my will.”
“Yes, you’re right. My wounded hero, who made that wondrous march over the drowned lands over there deserves a lazy month or two. All Brabant, Flanders and Spain rang with the glory of that march.” And the girl puts her arms about him whispering compliments that would make Guy very happy did he not know that they belong to the passed away Guido Amati. Then seeing his determination, she adds: “If you must go I’ll have three minutes more of you.”
“How?”
“By going to your boat to see you off.”
Putting her hand in his arm she strolls with him down the little path, the poplars throwing shadows on it here and there. Each time they reach a shadow they pause for a farewell—and as they near the boat each farewell grows longer and more drawn out, so it is many minutes before they reach the last shadowed nook and stand there listening to the sailors’ voices coming up to them from the landing. The men are making merry, having brought provisions and wine with them for their stay. Then the girl suddenly puts her arms about the lost one that has returned to her and whispers impulsively: “Oh, my Guido, if we never had to say good-night!”