Only when beside this man she loved was she her real-self, true, honest, loving, and tender-hearted. To the world outside she was compelled to wear the mask as a cold, sneering, crafty, and coquettish woman, the cunning and remorseless adventuress who had won such unenviable notoriety in the political circle at Rome and in Florentine society.
“La Funaro is known by repute in every town throughout Italy,” she said brokenly. “My reputation is that of a vain, coquettish woman without heart, without remorse. But you, Nino, when you know the truth, shall be my judge. Then you will know how I have suffered. The foul lies uttered on every side have cut me to the quick, but under compulsion I have remained silent. Soon, however”—and her brilliant eyes seemed to flash with eagerness at the thought which crossed her mind—“soon I shall release myself, and then you shall know everything—everything.”
“On that day perfect happiness will come to me,” he said fervently. “I love you, Gemma, more deeply than ever man loved woman.”
“And I, too, Nino, love you with all my heart, with all my soul.”
Their lips met again in a fierce caress, their hands clasped tightly. He looked into her clear eyes, bright with unshed tears, and saw fear and determination, truth and honesty mirrored therein. Her tiny hand trembled in his, and then for very joy she suddenly burst into a flood of emotion.
“When shall we leave for England?” he asked at last, his strong arm still about her waist.
“In a couple of days. I have only waited here for you to join me,” she said, drying her eyes. “Life without you, Nino, is impossible.”
“So within a week we shall be in London?”
“Yes,” she replied. “Soon, very soon, I hope, I may be free. But I have a task before me—one that is difficult and desperate. In order to secure your safety, and my own freedom from the hateful bonds which have fettered me these last two years, I am compelled to resort to strategy, to deception deep and cunning, the smallest revelation of which would wreck all our hopes.”
“How?”