Friar Mathieu shook his head sadly. "She must be with Ugolini. They are
probably both in Manfred's kingdom."
Simon fell back against the plaster wall, gasping. "But--a
message--there must have been a message for me. She must have left some
word."
"With whom?" Friar Mathieu spread his hands. "She knows I am your
friend, but I heard nothing from her."
In all the time since he left Perugia, Simon's vision of Sophia, his
dreams of their life together, had sustained him. He thought constantly
of her during those dreary weeks while Count Charles was parading around
Rome, giving orders to sullen Italians, exercising his troops, arguing
with his captains, and hanging those who made difficulties.
On a loggia much like this one, at Ugolini's Perugia mansion, Sophia had
made the promise that had given him hope. All he needed, he was sure,
was to know what stood between them, and he would be able to overcome
it.
And now, as suddenly as if Sophia had been on a ship and a wave had
swept her overboard, she was gone.
He felt himself getting angry at Friar Mathieu. He could not believe
what the old priest was telling him.
"She promised me!" he blurted out.
"Promised you what?" said Friar Mathieu softly.
"That she would tell me why she could not marry me."
There was a long silence, while Simon stared at the rooftops of Viterbo,
silhouetted against a golden sky.
"You wanted to marry her?" Friar Mathieu asked in a soft voice.
"I _want_ to marry her," said Simon, his voice sullen.