Good-bye."

"I say," said Silvia.

"Yes? I said, with one leg over the balustrade.

"As you're here, if you would like to come in and sit down for a
little- I mean, I don't want to seem inhospitable."

"I knew it," said I. "I knew she was, really."

"Goodbye, Silvia. Thank you very, very much all the same. I've
found out what I wanted to know."

I slipped over the coping and set my foot in the thong. There
was a rustle of silk and a quick step on the balcony. Then two
soft hands took hold of my wrists. I looked up at the big eyes,
the face white in the moonlight, the dark, straight-cut hair.

"Wait!" she said. "Who are you and where do you come from?"

"My name's Valentine," said I. "I am a gentleman of Verona."

The small mouth twitched. "Be serious," she said. I told her my
name and spoke of my run from Trieste, adding that I sought
Fladstadt and St. Martin. She heard me in silence. Then:

"Are you tired?" she said quietly.

"A little."