"Donna Bianca!"
The low voice, very gentle, very pleading, seemed to mingle its tones with the murmur of the fountains and the croscio of the rain-drops among the ilex-leaves.
Silvio Rossano stood and looked at her. Bianca put her hand up to her throat. Something seemed to rise in it and choke back her words.
"You!" she exclaimed.
He smiled a little. "I, Silvio," he said, simply. "Donna Bianca," he continued hurriedly, as though anxious not to give her time to say more, "if you tell me to go, I will go, and you shall never see me again."
And then he waited.
A great silence seemed to follow his words, as though all the sylvan deities in their lurking-places were listening for her answer.
Only the frog croaked:
"Chi sa dove, chi sa dove!"
Presently Bianca Acorari spoke.