"_Prego di verire.

La signorina e nel giardino._" He started ahead toward the garden, looking behind at every third step to make sure that the gentleman was still following, that he was not merely a figment of his own sleepy senses.

Their direction was straight toward the parapet where, on a historic wash-day, the signorina had sat beside a row of dangling stockings.

She was sitting there now, dressed in white, the oleander tree above her head enveloping her in a glowing and fragrant shade.

So occupied was she with a dreamy contemplation of the mountains across the lake that she did not hear footsteps until Giuseppe paused before her and presented the card.