snapping his fingers meaningly. "So much is true that one does
not see, and one cannot believe all that one does see."

Daphne started. What HAD he seen?

"Besides," added Bertuccio, "there is proof of this. My father's
father saw the olive tree, and it was quite closed."


CHAPTER XIII

Over the shallow tufa basin of the great fountain on the hill
Daphne stood gazing into the water. She had sought the deep
shadow of the ilex trees, for the afternoon was warm, an almost
angry summer heat having followed yesterday's coolness. Her
yellow gown gleamed like light against the dull brown of the
stone and the dark moss-touched trunks of the trees. Whether she
was looking at the tufts of fern and of grass that grew in the
wet basin, or whether she was studying her own beauty reflected
there, no one could tell, not even Apollo, who had been watching
her for some time.

Into his eyes as he looked leaped a light like the flame of the
sunshine beyond the shadows on the hill; swiftly he stepped
forward and kissed the girl's shoulder where the thin yellow
stuff of her dress showed the outward curve to the arm. She
turned and faced him, without a word. There was no need of
speech: anger battled with unconfessed joy in her changing face.

"How dare you?" she said presently, when she had won her lips to