"I have a presentiment of evil," said he. "We may never meet again. But you will not forget me?"
Hilda gave a long sigh.
"If we meet again," said she, "we shall see enough of one another. If not"--and she paused for a moment--"if not, then"--and a solemn cadence came to her voice--"then you will be the one who will remember, and _I_ shall be the one _to be remembered_. Farewell, my friend!"
She held out her hand.
Once more Gualtier pressed it to his lips.
Then he took his departure.
CHAPTER LXXI.
A RACE FOR LIFE.
On leaving Hilda Gualtier went out to the villa. Before his departure he furnished himself with a new disguise, different from his former one, and one, too, which he thought would be better adapted to his purposes of concealment. A gray wig, a slouched hat, and the dress of a peasant, served to give him the appearance of an aged countryman, while a staff which he held in his hand, and a stoop in his shoulders, heightened the disguise. He got a lift on a wine-cart for some miles, and at length reached a place not far away from the villa.
The villa itself, as it rose up from among surrounding trees, on a spur of the Apennines, was in sight. On either side of the valley rose the mountains. The Arno, as it wound along, approached the place on this side of the valley, and the mountains were not more than half a mile distant, though on the other the plain was several miles in width. The place which Gualtier had chosen seemed to him to be quite near enough to the villa for observation, and far enough distant for safety. The thought of a possible encounter with Obed Chute was ever present in his mind, and this time he determined to guard against all surprise, and, if an encounter should be inevitable, to use his revolver before his enemy could prevent him. His pride and his manhood both urged him to gain some satisfaction for that shame on both which he had experienced.