"Then I can, too," Lamberti said, but his lips shut tightly as if he regretted the words as soon as they were spoken.
"It will be easy, now," Cecilia went on. "It will be much easier because—" She stopped.
"Why will it be so much easier?" Lamberti asked, looking down again.
"We were not going to speak of those things again," Cecilia said. "We had better not begin."
"I only ask that one question. Tell me why it will be easier now. It may help me to forget."
"It will be easier—because I do not dream of you any more—I mean of the man who is like you." She was blushing faintly, but she knew that he would not look at her, and she was sitting in the shadow.
"On what day did you stop dreaming?" he asked, between two chords.
"It was last week. Let me see. It was a Wednesday. On Wednesday night I did not dream." He nodded gravely over the keys, as if he had expected the answer.
"Did you ever read anything about telepathy?" he asked. "I did not dream of you on Wednesday night either. It seemed to me that I tried to find you and could not."
"Were you trying to find me before?" Cecilia asked, as if it were the most natural question in the world.