When she was alone Jeanne was tempted, for a moment, to hasten after them, to yield, to go also, and say the joyful word to him.

She fell upon her knees, and stretched out her arms, almost as if he were standing before her, and sobbed: "Dear one, dear one! How could I deceive you ?" She had often struggled against her own unbelief, and always in vain.

A surrender to faith through sudden impulse would not be lasting, that she knew.
"Why will you not have me alone ?" she groaned again, still on her knees.
"Why will you not have me alone?
That pious consciences may not be scandalised?
That my despair may not trouble you?
Why will you not have me alone?
How can I say, before them, what is within me?
You who are gentle as your Lord Jesus, why will you not have me alone?
Oh!" She started to her feet, convinced that if Piero heard her, he would answer, "Yes, come!" She stood a moment as if turned to stone, her hands pressed to her forehead; then she moved slowly, like one walking in her sleep, left the room, crossed the hall and went down into the garden.
It was raining so hard, the sky, still rent from time to time by lightning, was so dark, that although it was not yet seven o'clock, on that February evening it seemed almost like night.

Just as she was, with bare head, Jeanne went out into the cold and streaming rain.

Without hastening her steps, she took, not the avenue of orange-trees on the right, but the path which, on the left, leads downwards, between two rows of great agaves, to a little grove of laurels, cypresses and olives, to which roses cling.