"Yes," said Bianca, hurriedly. "I must think," she added. "We must confide everything now to Mademoiselle Durand. Ah, Silvio, you should not have loved me—I shall bring you unhappiness."
Silvio looked at her gravely. "If we are true to each other," he said, "everything must come right. Even if we have to wait till you are of age and free to do as you choose, that is not a very long time."
They had left the casino as Silvio was speaking, and Bianca glanced uneasily down the avenue. Not a soul was visible. The rain had cleared away, and the sun, sinking westward, was streaming into the darkest recesses of the ilex grove. No sound broke the stillness except the splashing of the fountains, and now and again the notes of birds announcing that the hot hours were passed and the cool of evening was approaching.
Bianca turned and laid her hands on Silvio's. "Go, beloved," she said. "We must not be seen together—yet."
Silvio drew her to him once more. "Do you know," he said, "that you have never told me whether you will marry me or not?"
Bianca Acorari looked at him for a moment. Then she answered, simply:
"If I do not marry you, Silvio, I will marry no man. I swear it! Now go," she added, hastily—"do not delay a moment longer. I will communicate with you through Mademoiselle Durand."
"After all," said Silvio, "even if we have to wait three years—"
Bianca stamped her foot on the turf.
"Silvio," she exclaimed, "if you do not go, now—at once—I will not marry you for six years."