He walked beside her through two or three streets, holding her hand in his. But neither looked at the other, nor did a word pass between them, till suddenly he released her hand, and asked, "Whither shall I take you, Caterina?"
"I know not," she answered.
"To the Via Margatta?"
"No!" and she shrank together: "the old woman would find me there--or he."
"Who?"
"I may not name him--least of all to you--he has forbidden me."
"Then it is Bianchi." said Theodore, in a hollow voice. She did not deny it.
As they passed along, the misgiving which had arisen in his breast became stronger. The strange silence of the artist, while he described to him the scene at the Circus, and his meeting with the girl, were now explained and obvious for the first time. "Had we but confided to each other what was nearest to our hearts!" he sighed of himself and his friend. He knew not all as yet.
When they reached the house where Theodore lodged, he produced a key, and opened the door. Caterina stepped back. "I do not enter with you," she said. "No! rather would I sleep on the steps of Santo Maria Maggiore, than there within"--
"Child," he said, "I am no longer now what I might have seemed but a few hours ago! Thou art as safe with me as with a brother."