"Why delude ourselves with cruel hopes, my Valentina?" he was saying.
"There is the future. There is the time when this siege shall be done
with, and when, Gian Maria having got him home, you will be free to
depart. Whither will you go?"
She looked at him as if she did not understand the question, and her eyes
were troubled, although in such light as there was he could scarce see
this.
"I will go whither you bid me. Where else have I to go?" she added, with
a note of bitterness.
He started. Her answer was so far from what he had expected.
"But your uncle----?"
"What duty do I owe to him? Oh, I have thought of it, and until--until
this morning, it seemed that a convent must be my ultimate refuge. I
have spent most of my young life at Santa Sofia, and the little that I
have seen of the world at my uncle's court scarce invites me to see more
of it. The Mother Abbess loved me a little. She would take me back,
unless----"
She broke off and looked at him, and before that look of absolute and
sweet surrender his senses swam. That she was niece to the Duke of
Urbino he remembered no more than that he was Count of Aquila, well-born,
but of none too rich estate, and certainly no more a match for her in
Guidobaldo's eyes than if he had been the simple knight-errant that he
seemed.
He moved closer to her, his hands--as if obeying a bidding greater than
his will, the bidding of that glance of hers, perhaps--took her by the
shoulders, whilst his whole soul looked at her from his eyes.
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