'You are coming in to tea with us this afternoon, Father?'
'If Mademoiselle does me the honour to invite me.'
The girl laughed.
'We shall expect you.'
Then she gave him her hand—a shy yet kind look from her beautiful eyes, and went her way. She had forgiven him, and the priest walked on with a cheered mind.
Meanwhile Lucy pushed her way into the fastnesses of the Sassetto. In its very heart she found a green-overgrown spot where the rocks made a sort of natural chair; one great block leaning forward overhead; a flat seat, and mossy arms on either side.
Here she seated herself. The winding path ran above her head. She could be perceived from it, but at this hour what fear of passers by?
She gave herself up to the rush of memory and fear.
She had travelled far in these four months!
'Is this what it always means?—coming to Europe?' she asked herself with a laugh that was not gay, while her fingers pulled at a tuft of hart's-tongue that grew in a crevice beside her.