"Tomaso, Tomaso, I have borne much; can I bear this?"
His eyes were sparkling, his tone joyful; he had thrown all his shame from his heart; the miserable past, the miserable future, were alike forgotten; the world had narrowed to this—her welcoming face.
He laid his shield on the ground gently, and walked across the grass softly. The curtains, white in the still blazing sun, dazzled him; his heart was beating so, he thought it must choke him.
"Isotta!"
He called her name so low she could not hear.
"Isotta!"
Still she made no answer.
"Perchance she is very weary," said Mastino to himself, tenderly, and drew the white curtains back. She lay back among silk cushions.
"Isotta, my dear!"
There was a tremor in his voice. Had she fainted?