She took deep breaths to calm herself enough to speak to him.
"Simon, I pray that God will bless and protect you." She stifled a sob. "I cannot marry you. You must forget me."
He scrambled to his feet, his arms outstretched. "Do not turn from me, Sophia. I would rather have you kill me."
"No!" It came out of her as a scream. She turned and started to run, holding up the hem of her long skirt to keep from tripping. Her anguish was like a giant's hand that had seized her heart and was crushing it.
She ran like a hunted animal, tripping on rocks, turning her ankle in hollow places. She could only hope she was running toward the road.
"Sophia!"
She looked back over her shoulder. He was following her out of the forest, but at a distance. He was walking, staggering like a wounded man.
"Forgive me, Simon!" She ran on.
A pine branch struck her across the face, and she cried out in pain. But she felt that she deserved it. She ducked under the branch and kept running, seeing brighter light among the dark rows of tree trunks now. The road must be that way.
She forced her way through a tangle of shrubbery and was out on the road. Simon's scudiero, standing with their string of horses, stared at her wide-eyed. The huge Riccardo, Sophia's escort, was with him, talking. They were standing with their backs to a roadside statue of the Virgin in a little protective shed.