Guido had been happy in listening to her talk, with its suggestion of fantastical extravagance, but he had not known how to answer her, nor how to lead her on. He felt that the spell was broken, because something was lacking in himself. To be a magician one must believe in magic, unless one would be a mere conjurer. Guido at least knew enough not to answer the girl's last question with a string of so-called scientific theories about atavism and transmitted recollections. If he had taken that ground he would have been surprised to find that Cecilia Palladio was quite as familiar with it as himself.
"I am afraid," he said, "that I am not fit to talk with you about such things. You start from a point which I can never hope to reach, and instead of coming down to me, you rise higher and higher, almost out of my sight. I am afraid that if our friendship is to be real, it will be a one-sided bond."
"How do you mean?" asked the young girl, who had listened.
"It will mean much more to me than it ever can to you."
"No," Cecilia answered. "I think I shall like you very much."
"I like you very much already," said Guido, smiling. "I have an amusing idea."
"Have you? What is it? Neither of us has been very amusing this evening."
"Suppose that we take advantage of the Princess's conspiracy. Shall we?"
"My mother is the other conspirator!" Cecilia laughed.
"Is there any harm in letting people see that we like each other?" Guido asked.