He had much to tell her--who and what he was.

But she pointed to the head of the steps, where a man's figure loomed.
"Yonder comes the sentinel," she said.

"Leave me now, dear Francesco.
Go.

It is growing late." He bowed low before her, obedient ever, like the true knight he was, and took his leave of her, his soul on fire.
Valentina watched his retreating figure until it had vanished round the angle of the wall.

Then with a profound sigh, that was as a prayer of thanksgiving for this great good that had come into her life, she leaned upon the parapet and looked out into the darkness, her cheeks flushed, her heart still beating high.