Once she ventured from her refuge, then swiftly retreated. Courage returning, she stepped out on tiptoe and crept softly toward the intruder. She was rehearsing the Italian phrases she meant to use.
"Where is Rome?" she asked pleadingly, in the Roman tongue.
The stranger rose, with no sign of being startled, and removed his hat. Then Daphne sighed a great sigh of relief, feeling that she was safe.
"Rome," he answered, in a voice both strong and sweet, "Rome has perished, and Athens too."
"Oh"—said the girl. "You speak English. If you are not a stranger here, perhaps you can tell me where the Villa Accolanti is."
"I can," he replied, preparing to lead the way.
Daphne looked at him now. He was different from any person she had ever seen. Face and head belonged to some antique type of virile beauty; eyes, hair, and skin seemed all of one golden brown. He walked as if his very steps were joyous, and his whole personality seemed to radiate an atmosphere of firm content. The girl's face was puzzled as she studied him. This look of simple happiness was not familiar in New York.
They strode on side by side, over the slopes where the girl had lost her way. Every moment added to her sense of trust.
"I am afraid I startled you," she said, "coming up so softly."
"No," he answered smiling. "I knew that you were behind the ilex."