I WENT to the Moratini Palace, and with beating heart looked round for Giulia. She was surrounded by her usual court, and seemed more lively and excited than ever. I had never seen her more beautiful. She was dressed all in white, and her sleeves were sewn with pearls; she looked like a bride. She caught sight of me at once, but pretended not to see me, and went on talking.

I approached her brother Alessandro and said to him casually,—

'I am told a cousin of your sister has come to Forli. Is he here to-day?'

He looked at me inquiringly, not immediately understanding.

'Giorgio dall' Aste,' I explained.

'Oh, I didn't know you meant him. No, he's not here. He and Giulia's husband were not friends, and so—'

'Why were they not friends?' I interrupted, on the spur of the moment, not seeing the impertinence of the question till I had made it.

'Oh, I don't know. Relations always are at enmity with one another; probably some disagreement with regard to their estates.'

'Was that all?'

'So far as I know.'

I recollected that in a scandal the persons most interested are the last to hear it. The husband hears nothing of his wife's treachery till all the town knows every detail.

'I should like to have seen him,' I went on.

'Giorgo? Oh, he's a weak sort of creature; one of those men who commit sins and repent!'

'That is not a fault of which you will ever be guilty, Alessandro,' I said, smiling.

'I sincerely hope not. After all, if a man has a conscience he ought not to do wrong. But if he does he must be a very poor sort of a fool to repent.'

'You cannot have the rose without the thorn.'

'Why not? It only needs care. There are dregs at the bottom of every cup, but you are not obliged to drink them.'

'You have made up your mind that if you commit sins you are ready to go to hell for them?' I said.

'It is braver than going to Heaven by the back door, turning pious when you are too old to do anything you shouldn't.'

'I agree with you that one has little respect for the man who turns monk when things go wrong with him.'

I saw that Giulia was alone, and seized the opportunity to speak with her.

'Giulia,' I said, approaching.

She looked at me for a moment with an air of perplexity, as if she really could not remember whom I was.

'Ah, Messer Filippo!' she said, as if suddenly recollecting.

'It is not so long since we met that you can have forgotten me.'

'Yes. I remember last time you did me the honour to visit me you were very rude and cross.'

I looked at her silently, wondering.

'Well?' she said, steadily answering my gaze and smiling.

'Have you nothing more to say to me than that?' I asked in an undertone.

'What do you want me to say to you?'

'Are you quite heartless?'

She gave a sigh of boredom, and looked to the other end of the room, as if for someone to come and break a tedious conversation.

'How could you!' I whispered.

Notwithstanding her self-control, a faint blush came over her face. I stood looking at her for a little while and then I turned away. She was quite heartless. I left the Moratini and walked out into the town. This last interview had helped me in so far that it made certain that my love was hopeless. I stood still and stamped on the ground, vowing I would not love her. I would put her away from my thoughts entirely; she was a contemptible, vicious woman, and I was too proud to be subject to her. I wondered I did not kill her. I made up my mind to take my courage in both hands and leave Forli. Once away, I should find myself attracted to different matters, and probably I should not live long before finding some other woman to take Giulia's place. She was not the only woman in Italy; she was not the most beautiful nor the cleverest. Give me a month and I could laugh at my torments....

The same evening I told Matteo I meant to leave Forli.

'Why?' he asked in astonishment.

'I have been here several weeks,' I answered; 'I don't want to outstay my welcome.'

'That is rubbish. You know I should be only too glad for you to stay here all your life.'

'That is very kind of you,' I replied, with a laugh, 'but the establishment is not yours.'

'That makes no difference. Besides, Checco has become very fond of you, and I'm sure he wishes you to stay.'

'Of course, I know your hospitality is quite unlimited; but I am beginning to want to get back to CittÀ di Castello.'

'Why?' asked Matteo, doubtfully.

'One likes to return to one's native place.'

'You have been away from Castello for ten years; you cannot be in any particular hurry to get back.'

I was beginning to protest when Checco came in, and Matteo interrupted me with,—

'Listen, Checco, Filippo says he wants to leave us.'

'But he sha'n't,' said Checco, laughing.

'I really must!' I answered gravely.

'You really mustn't,' replied Checco. 'We can't spare you, Filippo.'

'There's no great hurry about your going home,' he added, when I had explained my reasons, 'and I fancy that soon we shall want you here. A good sword and a brave heart will probably be of good use to us.'

'Everything is as quiet as a cemetery,' I said, shrugging my shoulders.

'It is quiet above; but below there are rumblings and strange movements. I feel sure this calm only presages a storm. It is impossible for Girolamo to go on as he is now; his debts are increasing every day, and his difficulties will soon be impracticable. He must do something. There is certain to be a disturbance at any attempt to put on the taxes, and then Heaven only knows what will happen.'

I was beginning to get a little vexed at their opposition, and I answered petulantly,—

'No, I must go.'

'Stay another month; things must come to a head before then.'

A month would have been as bad as a year.

'I am out of health,' I answered; 'I feel I want to get into a different atmosphere.'

Checco thought for a moment.

'Very well,' he said, 'we can arrange matters to suit us both. I want someone to go to Florence for me to conclude a little business matter with Messer Lorenzo de' Medici. You would be away a fortnight; and if you are out of sorts the ride across country will put you right. Will you go?'

I thought for a moment. It was not a very long absence, but the new sights would distract me, and I wanted to see Florence again. On the whole, I thought it would suffice, and that I could count on the cure of my ill before the time was up.

'Very well,' I answered.

'Good! And you will have a pleasant companion. I had talked to Scipione Moratini about it; it did not occur to me that you would go. But it will be all the better to have two of you.'

'If I go,' I said, 'I shall go alone.'

Checco was rather astonished.

'Why?'

'Scipione bores me. I want to be quiet and do as I like.'

I was quite determined that neither of the Moratini should come with me. They would have reminded me too much of what I wanted to forget.

'As you like,' said Checco. 'I can easily tell Scipione that I want him to do something else for me.'

'Thanks.'

'When will you start?'

'At once.'

'Then come, and I will give you the instructions and necessary papers.'