"Very well, let us go then.

You believe something and you do not know! Let Fate decide!" But before moving a step she dropped her friend's arm, and while Noemi, completely bewildered, stood watching her she wrote in her notebook: "I am at the Sacro Speco.

For the sake of Don Giuseppe Flores wait for me!" She did not sign her name, but tearing out the tiny page gave it to the gardener.

"For that man, should he return." Then once more taking Noemi's arm, she exclaimed: "Let us go!" The sun's burning rays, smiting the steaming, rocky hillside, brought out damp odours of herbs and of stone, silvered the puffs of mist creeping along the sides of the narrow, wild valley, as far as the enormous mass resting there, in the background, like a cap on the heights of Jenne, while the mighty voice of the Anio filled the solitude.

Jeanne climbed upwards in silence, without replying to Noemi's questions.