“At Rome. It was handed to me by the station-master on my arrival.”
“And you made no answer to that?”
“None was required. It had only three words; but those were enough to make me happy indeed, for they dispelled all fear that your strength might fail at the last.”
“And those three words?”
“You said, ‘All is well.’”
“No; it was not that,” she laughed; and with a gaiety which he understood now, and shared as well, she told him of the message despatched at the request of Tarsis, asking what she should do—keep or break her engagement of marriage. In that moment they forgot the trickery by which he had gained her hand. Enough to know that each in spirit had been true to the promise given and taken in the monastery; that, however great the disaster to their hopes, the power of their love had never lessened. She would have told him more of the events in Villa Barbiondi after his departure for Rome but for Donna Beatrice, who came toward them, her face a picture of vexation.
“His Majesty is expected at any moment,” she informed Hera, with shaking voice; “and you with your husband are to be in readiness to receive him.”
“Yes, Aunt,” she answered. “I will go.”
The three walked together across the garden to the grand portico, up the staircase swarming with guests, and into the Atlantean chamber, where Mario took leave of the others. The company was becoming impatient, for it was the dinner hour in many houses.
“Something of a change from their coop in Via Monte Leone,” remarked a certain Nobody-in-particular, as Hera and her father passed by.