She entreated me to say it was not at Franzenshohe that I first loved her, and I fancied she was afraid lest her behavior on the bridge had seemed a little bold.

I told her it was divine, and pictured the scene as only an anxious lover could do.

Then she burst into tears, and we went back silently to her relatives.

She would not say a word to me.
[Illustration] "We drove to Sondrio, and before we reached it I dare say I was as pale as she.

A horrible thought had flashed upon me.