"I love you, Ilaria," he stammered, drunk with her sweetness, "love you, as I have never loved anything on earth. Ilaria—Ilaria—"
"Are we not free?" she whispered, her lips very close to his.
He kissed them again and again, then tossed back his head.
"Free?" he said. "Who is free? Ghostly powers, fates from ancient days,—drive us, flesh and blood, whither they will!"
She shook her head, and on her lips played the old-time childhood smile.
"Have you forgot?" she whispered into his ear, holding him very close. "But it is not for me to remind you—"
With a sudden change her restraint had vanished.
"We are among the shades," she continued, "where Proserpina should be at home. The world of sun is far!"
"I love you—" he stammered, gazing at her with wide, hungry eyes.
She bent back his head, till their eyes met.