At that name, she felt her heart throb suddenly, then contract, then palpitate confusedly. Was not that the name he had called Donatella, that first night? Had he not called her Ariadne down there, in the gondola, while seated at the young girl's feet? She even remembered his words: "Ariadne possesses a divine gift, whereby her power transcends all limits." She recalled his accent, his attitude, his look.
Tumultuous anguish seized upon her, obscured her reason, prevented her from realizing the spontaneity of the happening, and the simple careless jest in her friend's speech. The terror that lay hidden in the depths of her love rose in rebellion, mastered her, blinded her with misery. The trifling little accident assumed an appearance of cruelty and derision. She could still hear that laugh ringing from the melancholy maze.
"Stelio!"
In her frantic hallucination, she cried out as if she had seen him embraced by the other woman, torn from her arms forever.
"Stelio!"
"Come and find me!" he answered laughing, still invisible.
She rushed into the labyrinth to find him, and advanced straight toward the voice and the laugh, guided by her impulse. But the path turned; a wall of bushes rose before her, impenetrable, and stopped her. She followed the winding, deceiving path; but one turning followed another, and all looked alike, and the circle seemed to have no end.
"Look for me!" cried the voice from a distance, through the living hedges.
"Where are you? Where are you? Can you see me?"
She looked about for some opening in the hedge through which she might see. But all she saw was thick, interlacing branches, and the redness of the setting sun which lighted them on one side, while shadows darkened them on the other. The box-bushes and the hornbeams were so closely mingled that they increased momentarily the bewilderment of the breathless woman.