We walked along the dark streets, running like thieves round corners
when we heard the heavy footsteps of the watch. The Palazzo Aste was all
dark; we waited outside a little while, but no one came, and I dared not
knock. Then I remembered the side door. I still had the key, and I took
it from my pocket.
'Wait outside,' I said to Andrea.
'No, I am coming with you.'
'Perhaps there is an ambush.'
'Two are more likely to escape than one.'
I put the key in the lock, and as I did so my heart beat and my hand
trembled, but not with fear. The key turned, and I pushed the door open.
We entered and walked up the stairs. Sensations which I had forgotten
crowded upon me, and my heart turned sick.... We came to an ante-room
dimly lit. I signed Andrea to wait, and myself passed into the room I
knew too well. It was that in which I had last seen Giulia--the Giulia I
had loved--and nothing was altered in it. The same couch stood in the
centre, and on it lay Giulia, sleeping. She started up.
'Filippo!'
'At your service, madam.'
'Lucia recognised you in the street yesterday, and she followed you to
the house in which you are staying.'
'Yes.'
'My father sent me a message that you were still here, and if I wanted
help would give it me.'
'I will do whatever I can for you.'
What a fool I was to come. My head was in a whirl, my heart was
bursting. My God! she was beautiful! I looked at her, and suddenly I
knew that all the dreary indifference I had built up had melted away at
the first look into her eyes. And I was terrified.... My love was not
dead; it was alive, alive! Oh, how I adored that woman! I burned to take
her in my arms and cover her soft mouth with kisses.
Oh, why had I come? I was mad. I cursed my weakness.... And, when I saw
her standing there, cold and indifferent as ever, I felt so furious a
rage within me that I could have killed her. And I felt sick with
love....
'Messer Filippo,' she said, 'will you help me now? I have been warned by
one of the Countess's women that the guard have orders to arrest me
to-morrow; and I know what the daughter of Bartolomeo Moratini may
expect. I must fly to-night--at once.'
'I will help you,' I answered.
'What shall I do?'
'I can disguise you as a common woman. The mother of my friend Andrea
will lend you clothes; and Andrea and I will accompany you. Or, if you
prefer, after we have safely passed the gates, he shall accompany you
alone wherever you wish to go.'
'Why will you not come?'
'I feared my presence would make the journey more tedious to you.'
'And to you?'
'To me it would be a matter of complete indifference.'