For all answer Hedwig threw her arms round his neck, passionately.

“Tell me, love, would you think better of me if I were noble?”

“Ah, Nino, how most unkind!  Oh, no:  I love you, and for your sake I love the people,—­the strong, brave people, whose man you are.”

“God bless you, dear, for that,” he answered tenderly.  “But say, will your father take you back to Rome, now that he has sent away Benoni?”

“No, he will not.  He swears that I shall stay here until I can forget you.”  The fair head rested again on his shoulder.

“It appears to me that your most high and noble father has amazingly done perjury in his oath,” remarked Nino, resting his hand on her hair, from which the thick black veil that had muffled it had slipped back.  “What do you think, love?”

“I do not know,” replied Hedwig, in a low voice.

“Why, dear, you have only to close this door behind you, and you may laugh at your prison and your jailer!”

“Oh, I could not, Nino; and besides, I am weak, and cannot walk very far.  And we should have to walk very far, you know.”

“You, darling?  Do you think I would not and could not bear you from here to Rome in these arms?” As he spoke he lifted her bodily from the step.

“Oh!” she cried, half frightened, half thrilled, “how strong you are, Nino!”

“Not I; it is my love.  But I have beasts close by, waiting even now; good stout mules, that will think you are only a little silver butterfly that has flitted down from the moon for them to carry.”

“Have you done that, dear?” she asked, doubtfully, while her heart leaped at the thought.  “But my father has horses,” she added, on a sudden, in a very anxious voice.

“Never fear, my darling.  No horse could scratch a foothold in the place where our mules are as safe as in a meadow.  Come, dear heart, let us be going.”  But Hedwig hung her head, and did not stir.  “What is it, Hedwig?” he asked, bending down to her and softly stroking her hair.  “Are you afraid of me?”

“No,—­oh no!  Not of you, Nino,—­never of you!” She pushed her face close against him, very lovingly.

“What then, dear?  Everything is ready for us.  Why should we wait?”

“Is it quite right, Nino?”

“Ah, yes, love, it is right,—­the rightest right that ever was!  How can such love as ours be wrong?  Have I not to-day implored your father to relent and let us marry?  I met him in the road—­”

“He told me, dear.  It was brave of you.  And he frightened me by making me think he had killed you.  Oh, I was so frightened, you do not know!”

“Cruel—­” Nino checked the rising epithet.  “He is your father, dear, and I must not speak my mind.  But since he will not let you go, what will you do?  Will you cease to love me, at his orders?”

“Oh, Nino, never, never, never!”

“But will you stay here, to die of solitude and slow torture?” He pleaded passionately.