'Married, sir?' The little secretary was aghast.
'Send Vito for the priest!'
And before Omobono could say more, Zeno had left the room.
He found Zoë standing by the open window, and the morning sun was still streaming in. Her hair was not taken up yet, but lay like silk all over her shoulders, still damp from the bath. She was a little pale, as a flower that has blossomed in a dark room, and the rough white silk of the robe she drew closely round her showed by contrast the delicate tint and texture of her skin, and the sweet freshness of the tender and spiritual mouth.
'Am I not your bought slave?' she asked. 'I must obey.'
He took her hand and looked at her earnestly before he spoke. Only a night, a day and a night, had passed since he had understood what had hidden itself in his heart for weeks. That same truth had stolen into hers, too, but she had known what it meant.
'You kept your secret well,' he said—'too well!'
She shook her head, thinking he spoke of her love.