Elena stood still.
'I can go no further,' she gasped.
The carriage was still at some distance, standing motionless where they had left it.
'A little further, Elena, just a step or two! Shall I carry you ?' Then, seized with a sort of frenzy, he burst out again--Why was she going away?
Why did she want to break with him?
Surely their destinies were indissolubly knit together now?
He could not live without her--without her eyes, her voice, the constant thought of her.

He was saturated through and through with love of her--his whole blood was on fire as with some deadly poison.

Why was she running away from him ?--He would hold her fast--would suffocate her on his heart first----No--it could not, must not be--never! Elena listened, with bent head to meet the blast, but she did not answer.

Presently she raised her hand and beckoned to the coachman.

The horses pawed and pranced as they started.
'Stop at the Porta Pia,' she called to the man, and entered the carriage with her lover.