“Enrica—­countess, I mean”—­Nobili hesitates—­“pardon this intrusion.—­You saw the accident.—­I did not know that this was your room.”

Again Nobili pauses, waiting for an answer.  None comes.  Would she not speak to him?  Alas! had he deserved that she should?  Nobili takes a step or two toward the door.  With one hand upon the lock he pauses once more, gazing at Enrica with lingering eyes.  Then he turns to leave the room.  It is all over!—­he had only to depart!  A low cry from Enrica stops him.

“Nobili,” Enrica says, “tell me—­oh! tell me, are you hurt?”

Enrica has risen from the chair.  One hand rests on the table for support.  Her voice falters as she asks the question.  Nobili, every drop of whose blood runs fevered in his veins, turns toward her.

“I am not hurt—­a scratch or two—­nothing.”

“Thank God!” Enrica utters, in a low voice.

Nobili endeavors to approach her.  She draws back.

“As I am here”—­he speaks with the utmost embarrassment—­“here, as you see, by accident”—­his voice rests on the words—­“I cannot go—­”

As Nobili speaks he perceives that Enrica gradually retreats farther from him.  The tender delight that had come into her eyes when he first addressed her fades out into a scared look—­a look like a defenseless animal expecting to receive a death-wound.  Nobili sees and understands the expression.

His heart smites him sorely.  Great God!—­has he become an object of terror to her?

“Enrica!”—­she starts back as Nobili pronounces her name, yet he speaks so softly the sound comes to her almost like a sigh—­“Enrica, do not fear me.  I will say no word to offend you.  I cannot go without asking your pardon.  As one who loved you once—­as one who loves—­” He stops.  What is he saying?—­“I humbly beseech you to forgive me.  Enrica, let me hear you say that you forgive me.”

Still Enrica retreats from him, that suffering, saint-like look upon her face he knows so well.  Nobili follows her.  He kneels at her feet.  He kneels at the feet of the woman from whom, not an hour before, he had demanded a separation!

“Say—­can you forgive me before I go?”

As Nobili speaks, his strong heart goes out to her in speechless longings.  If Enrica had looked into his eyes they would have told her that he never had loved her as now!  And they were parted!

Enrica puts out her hand timidly.  Her lips move as if to speak, but no sound comes.  Nobili rises; he takes her hand within both his own.  He kisses it reverently.

“Dear hand—­” he murmurs, “and it was mine!”

Released from his, the dainty little hand falls to her side.  She sighs deeply.  There is the old charm in Nobili’s voice—­so sweet, so subtile.  The tones fall upon her ear like strains of passionate music.  A storm of emotion sweeps across her face.  She has forgotten all in the rapture of his presence.  Yes!—­that voice!  Had it not been raised but a few hours before at the altar to repudiate her?  How can she believe in him?  How surrender herself to the glamour of his words?  Remembering all this, despair comes over her.  Again Enrica shrinks from him.  She bursts into tears and hides her face with her hands.