And as they rode it chanced that presently Guidobaldo fell behind, so that for a moment Francesco and Valentina found themselves alone a little ahead of the others. She turned to him, a shyness in her brown eyes, a tremble at the corners of her red lips:
“You have not yet said that you forgive me, Francesco,” she complained, in a timerous whisper. “Were it not seemly that you did since we are to be wed so soon?”