"Of course," Lamberti answered, without hesitation. Then, with an attempt at a laugh, he corrected himself. "I apologise for all the things I said to you in my dreams."
"Please do not laugh about it." Her voice was a little unsteady, and she was looking down, so that he could not see her face.
"It is better not to take it too seriously," he replied gravely. "Could anything be more absurd than that two people who were mere acquaintances then should fall in love with each other in their dreams? It is utterly ridiculous. Any sane person would laugh at the idea."
"Yes; no doubt. But there is more than that. Call it telepathy, or whatever you please, it cannot be a mere coincidence. Do you know that, until last Wednesday, I met you in my dream, just where you dreamed of meeting me, at the bench in the villa?"
He did not seem surprised, but listened attentively while she continued.
"I am sure that we really met," she went on gravely. "It may be in some natural way or not. It does not matter. We must never meet again like that—never. Do you understand? We must promise never to try and find each other in our dreams. Will you promise?"
"Yes; I promise." Lamberti spoke gravely.
"I promise, too," Cecilia said.
Then they were both silent for a time. It was like a real parting, and they felt it, and for a few moments each was thinking of the bench by the fountain in the Villa Madama.
"We owe it to Guido," Lamberti said at last, almost unconsciously.