"No, never."
"Will you go there with me?"
"Yes," she replied at once.
"We will go, we will go," he exclaimed, a little disturbed with joy. "Up there there is a solitary height: one must go there on foot after leaving the carriage. But one sees the Val di Poschiaro—beautiful Italy!"
"We will go," she again consented.
A boat came towards them, also propelled by two rowers, proceeding, however, very slowly. A woman was within, alone, with a delicate, pale face, a rosy mouth slightly livid, and two deep blue, velvety eyes. She was Else von Landau, who was enjoying in silence and solitude the air, the light, and the trees, whatever was healthy and pure and refreshing. With her gloved hands crossed over her knees, and her veil raised above her hat, she appeared collected and serene. With calm eyes she followed the boat with the two lovers.
"She is ill, poor thing!" murmured Lucio Sabini.
"But she will get better," added Lilian, "if she remains here for the winter."
"How do you know that?"
"The doctors say so, people say so. One gets better here in the winter. How beautiful it must be here beneath the snow," she murmured, as if to herself.