She shivered in his arms. He pressed her more closely to his heart.
"It was a long time ago!"
"And then as now you moved in a masque, in which I have no part."
A long silence enfolded them. She nestled close to him.
"I am tired,—very tired," she crooned, as a child about to fall asleep. "Francesco, help me to forget the years! I am afraid!"
"Afraid?"
"Of myself! Sometimes I dare not be alone at night! No,—no,—it is not that! The inner darkness! There is no weeping there,—only silence,—silence,—and the gathering gloom!"
She held his hands in her own.
"But for this," she cried with passionate pressure, "I should long have cursed God and died—"