"If I told you who he is, what would you do to him? Go and quarrel with him? Call him out and kill him in a duel? I suppose that is what you would do if you could, for Guido's sake."
"I should like to know his name," Lamberti answered.
"You never shall. You can never find it out, no matter how ingenious you are."
"If I ever see you together, I shall."
"How can you be so sure of that?"
"You forget something," Lamberti said. "You forget the odd coincidences of our dreams, and that I have seen you in them when you were in earnest—not as you have been with Guido, but as you seem to be about this other man. I know every look in your eyes, every movement of your lips, every tone of your voice. Do you think I should not recognise anything of all that in real life?"
"These were only dreams," Cecilia tried to say, avoiding his look. "I asked you not to speak of them."
"Do you dream of him now?" Lamberti asked the question suddenly.
"Not now—no—that is—please do not ask me such questions. You have no right to."
"I beg your pardon. Perhaps I have not."