his long stride. She started to run after him, then stopped.
After all, how could she find words for what she had to say?
Walking to the great gate by the highway she looked wistfully
between its iron rods, for one last glimpse of him. A sudden
realization came to her that she knew nothing about him, not even
an address, "except Delphi," she said whimsically to herself.
Only a minute ago he had been there; and now she had wantonly let
him go out of her life forever.

"I wonder if the Madonna threw my roses away," she thought,
coming back with slow feet to the arbor, and realizing for the
first time since she had reached the Villa Accolanti that she was
alone, and very far away from home.


CHAPTER XVII

San Pietro and Bertuccio were waiting at the doorway, both
blinking sleepily in the morning air. At San Pietro's right side
hung a tiny pannier, covered by a fringed white napkin, above
which lay a small flask decorated with corn husk and gay yarn,
where red wine sparkled like rubies in the sunshine. The varying
degrees of the donkey's resignation were registered exactly in
the changing angles at which his right ear was cocked.

"Pronta!" called Assunta, who was putting the finishing touches
on saddle and luncheon basket. "If the Signorina means to climb
the Monte Altiera she must start before the sun is high."

On the hillside above Daphne heard, but her feet strayed only