“This was the first time we had been alone since we had met on the esplanade, and he had seized the occasion.
“I could not reply to him; but I did not repulse him, and he saw that I did not wish to do so.
“‘Madame!’ I whispered, as I heard the Frenchwoman’s approach, which had not attracted his attention.
“He arose at once, and resumed his attitude of teacher.
“Madame entered. She had not been gone two minutes.
“Gradually, as the intimacy between madame and the exile advanced, her strict surveillance over me was relaxed. I was still a child in her eyes, and she was a charming woman who had fired the young Italian with admiration. So she did not feat to leave Luigi and myself together.
“As for Miss Murray, she hated all foreigners, especially Italians, and most especially political exiles, so she was seldom present during Saviola’s calls. We had many a tête-à-tête. And for a few weeks we lived happily in mere certainty that we could see and talk with each other every day. But then came a change.
“Luigi became restless and unhappy. He never smiled now. He often sighed heavily. He grew paler than his custom and very thin.
“Madame—poor madame—thought the youth was pining away for her love. And surely she did all she could to encourage him to speak plainly to her; all she could, except to tell him in so many words that she was ready to marry him.
“One day she sent me out of the room, and was with him alone for an hour. I think then she really did propose to him, and that he saved himself without wounding her, for when she recalled me to the room Saviola was gone, and she was in tears, when she said to me: