they reached the gates; they had ridden fast and spoken scarcely at all.
As he lifted her from Saïd in the gloom within the scarcely lighted street, he pressed her softly for one second in his arms, so that she felt the beating of his heart.
"A rive derci!" he murmured.
She left him in silence, and without rebuke.
"Is that you, Duca?" said the voice of Madame Mila in the darkness, as a carriage, gorgeous with amber and gold liveries and with Carnival camellias at the horses' heads, pulled up with great noise and haste before the hotel door.
"Is that you, Duca? I am so glad; I wanted to speak to you. The Corso was horridly stupid. I don't care a bit except for the pelting days, do you. I sprained my arm last year in Borne with the pelting, and I really blinded poor Salvareo for a week. Why, dear me, that's Saïd! Have you and Hilda been riding together?"
"I met your cousin, Madame, by chance; she had lost her way. It is very easy to do so amongst our hills."
