"Ah," said Odo carelessly, "our friend is an ecclesiastic.—And which way did this gentleman travel?" he went on, pouring himself another glass.
The landlord assumed an air of country cunning. "There's the fishy part of it," said he. "He gave orders to go toward Verona; but my boy, who chased the carriage down the road, as lads will, says that at the cross-ways below the old mill the driver took the turn for Peschiera."
Fulvia at this seemed no longer able to control herself. She came close to Odo and said in a low urgent tone: "For heaven's sake, let us set forward!"
Odo again signed to her to keep silent, and with an effort she resumed her seat and made a pretence of eating. A moment later he despatched the landlord to the stable, to see that the horses had been rubbed down; and as soon as the door closed she broke out passionately.
"It is my fault," she cried, "it is all my fault for coming here. If I had had the courage to keep on this would never have happened!"
"No," said Odo quietly, "and we should have gone straight to Peschiera and landed in the arms of our pursuer—if this mysterious traveller is in pursuit of us."
His tone seemed to steady her. "Oh," she said, and the colour flickered out of her face.
"As it happens," he went on, "nothing could have been more fortunate than our coming here."
"I see—I see—; but now we must go on at once," she persisted.
He looked at her gravely. "This is your wish?"