“Tell me, love,” he said, drawing Enrica to him, “did you hear my signal last night?—­the shot I fired below, out of the woods?”

“Yes, I heard a shot.  Something told me it must be you.  I thought I should have died when I heard my aunt order Adamo to unloose those dreadful dogs.  How did you escape them?”

“The cunning beasts!  They were upon my track.  How I did it in the darkness I cannot tell, but I managed to scramble down the cliff and to reach the opposite mountain.  The chasm was then between us.  So the dogs lost the scent upon the rocks, and missed me.  I left Lucca almost as soon as you.  Trenta told me that the marchesa had brought you here because you would not give me up.  Dear heart, how I grieved that I had brought suffering on you!”

He seized her hand and pressed it to his lips, then continued: 

“As long as it was day, I prowled about under the cliffs in the shadow of the chasm.  I watched the stars come out.  There was one star that shone brightly above the tower; to me that star was you, Enrica.  I could have knelt to it.”

“Dear Nobili!” murmured Enrica, softly.

“As I waited there, I saw a great red vapor gather over the battlements.  The alarm-bell sounded.  I climbed up through the wood, where the rocks are lower, and watched among the shrubs.  I saw the marchesa carried out in Adamo’s arms.  I heard your name, dear love, passed from mouth to mouth.  I looked around—­you were not there.  I understood it all; I rushed to save you.”

Again Nobili wound his arms round Enrica and drew her to him with passionate ardor.  The thought of Count Marescotti had faded out like a bad dream at daylight.

Enrica’s blue eyes dimmed with tears.

“Oh, do not weep, Enrica!” he cried.  “Let the past go, love.  Did the marchesa think that bolts and bars, and Adamo, and watch-dogs, would keep Nobili from you?” He gave a merry laugh.  “I shall not leave Corellia until we are affianced.  Fra Pacifico knows it—­I told him so last night.  Cavaliere Trenta is expected to-day from Lucca.  Both will speak to your aunt.  One may have done so already, for what I know, for Fra Pacifico had left his house before I rose.  He must be here.  Is this a time to weep, Enrica?” he asked her tenderly.  How comely Nobili looked!  What life and joy sparkled in his bright eyes!

“I am very foolish—­I hope you will forgive me,” was Enrica’s answer, spoken a little sadly.  Her confidence in herself was shaken, since Count Marescotti’s name had jarred between them.  “Let us walk a little in the shade.”

“Yes.  Lean on me, dearest; the morning is delicious.  But remember, Enrica, I will have smiles—­nothing but smiles.”

As Nobili bore her up on his strong arm, pacing up and down among the flowering trees that, bowing in the light breeze, shed gaudy petals at their feet—­Nobili looked so strong, and resolute, and bold—­his eyes had such a power in them as he gazed down proudly upon her—­that the tears which trembled upon Enrica’s eyelids disappeared.  Nobili’s strength came to her as her own strength.  She, who had been so crushed and wounded, brought so near to death, needed this to raise her up to life.  And now it came—­came as she gazed at him.