Turning suddenly, he took the sweet face into his hands and held it for a pace, and looked into her eyes with such a mad hunger, such delirious longing, that she too caught the moment's spell. Her breath came in gasps; her lips were thirstily ajar; she began to lean towards him, and at last he threw his arms about her and caught the dear head so wildly to his bosom, that woman-like she guessed there was something hidden beneath it all, and while she abandoned herself to his caresses, softly responding to them, the waves of a great fear swept over her own heart.
Looking up at him, she caught the strange, wild expression in his face, an expression she had twice surprised since his return from his mysterious voyage, once in the rose-garden, then at the repast.
"Francesco," she breathed, with anxious wonderment in her tone, "why do you look at me like that?"
Thoroughly frightened by his manner, she caught him by the arm.
He looked at her with bewildered eyes, but made no immediate response.
"Why do you look at me like that?" she repeated, her fear enhanced by his fierce look, his heaving breath. "Speak! What is it you have to tell me? They are stirring in the courtyard. We have scant time. And you—are you ready when the signal sounds? Your garb is ill-suited for a journey!"
At her words he gradually shook off the lethargy which seemed to benumb his senses.
Absently he looked down upon his garb.
"I forgot," he muttered, then the realization being forced upon him that he must speak, he took a deep breath, and the words sprang fiercely from his lips.