There was a sound of horses’ feet again. The road lay almost close to the shore just here. A low exclamation, a vault from his horse, which was speedily cared for by a dozen boys near at hand, and before Mae knew it, the officer was beside her once more.
O, how beautiful it was to see some one from the world, fresh, and clean, and fair. Mae gazed at him in delight, and sprang up warmly, holding out both her hot hands, “How is Heaven?” asked Bero, as he raised the white fingers to his lips.
“That is not the custom with us,” said Mae, withdrawing her hand.
“But what is custom in Heaven?” he laughed. “Can’t we do as we please in our Heaven, Signorina?”
“This isn’t our Heaven, and I don’t please. O, how could you let me come to this dreadful place. Did you know how awful it would be?”
“Shall I tell you why I said nothing? Let me row you away from all this,” and he began to untie the boat.
“When did you come?” asked Mae,
“I left Rome last night, reached Naples this morning, and here I am as soon as possible, Signorina.”
Mae felt herself gradually yielding to the spell of this man’s soft power. She had grown strangely quiet and passive, and she folded her hands and looked off seawards in a not unhappy way. She seemed to be some one else in a strange dream.
“Are you glad I came?” asked Bero, as he jumped into the boat and sat down opposite her. Mae did not reply. She had almost lost the power of speech. She only smiled feebly and faintly. Bero had never seen her thus before, but he realized dimly that it was he who had changed her, and the sense of his own power excited him the more. He bent his proud head and flashed his beautiful eyes as he lifted the oars to the locks, and silently pulled out toward the bay.