"Ilaria had interposed herself between the two"
Francesco turned to the girl who still clung to him. She knew the look on his face, but there was in it an expression she had never seen before, penetrating, sorrowful, crushed. His breath came and went in gasps, yet he spoke not.
"Francesco," she said after a pause, while she anxiously watched the play of light and shadow on his face. "Listen! Messer Raniero seems to bear you a grudge. Promise me to avoid a meeting with him! He has said much to me, thinking thereby to win my favor. He now knows,—let that suffice!"
"He has told you much? What has he told you?"
"You have not told me what took you away so suddenly!"
He held up his hand deprecatingly.
"A secret mission of the Viceroy's," he said blushing, as he stammered the falsehood. Yet he could not bring himself to avow even to the girl he loved best on earth, his father's shame. The pain of life could not be made less, by adding more pain.
"Trust me!" he begged. "We have always felt together,—I have never deceived you!"
"Until now!" her voice sounded shrill and strained.
"No! Ilaria, no! Were it mine to tell,—there is no secret for you in this heart of mine. But the matter concerns another! Perhaps—in time—"