He pressed her to his heart and kissed her dark eyes.
Then slowly they retraced their steps towards the castle.
When Francesco reached his chamber, the moon was slowly sinking through the azure night-sky.
He noted it not. It seemed to him he was standing in the midst of a great void. All life about him had died. And he stood there, digging his own grave, and, as the last spade of turf flew up, the stifling night of annihilation swallowed up the universe.
[CHAPTER V]
WAVES OF DESTINY
WHEN Francesco waked on the following morning, the June sun touched the tree-tops which bounded the western horizon with their delicate feathery twigs. Throughout the castle of Avellino there was the hum and murmur of life. An unusual activity prevailed; the Apulian court was preparing to depart, as the long train of horses and jennets drawn up in the courtyard indicated.