She could not have trampled upon him more victoriously than by displaying the utter indifference with which she seemed to rediscover his existence.
For a moment, that seemed interminable, they stood at gaze, as if some hidden hand had been laid upon them, arresting every movement.
Then her lips parted slightly.
"Faithless!"
Then she was gone.—
How long Francesco remained rooted to the spot, he did not know.
He felt as one who has walked into a place, where all the doors were closed, where calm, contemptuous faces were watching him from the windows.
His chief desire now was to get away from Rome as quickly as possible. The Pontiff was at Viterbo. Thither he would travel with the dawn. He was tired of humiliations. Restless and baffled though he felt in his effort to conform his thoughts to the life he was henceforth to lead, he resented even compassion.
The moon had risen higher and the sky was sprinkled with myriads of stars.
Francesco stood leaning against the fountain, and heard the bells on distant Aventine tolling through the night. Their music filled the air. He tried to hush the anxiety of his heart by prayer. It was in vain.