They rode on without waiting for the others, at an even canter over the sand.

“I never saw anything in Folco’s eyes that could frighten anybody,” Marcello said presently.

“No,” answered Aurora.  “Very likely not.”

Marcello had always called Corbario by his first name, and as he grew up it seemed more and more natural to do so.  Folco was so young, and he looked even younger than he was.

“It must be your imagination,” Marcello said.

“Women,” said Aurora, as if she were as near thirty as any young woman would acknowledge herself, “women have no imagination.  That is why we have so much sense,” she added thoughtfully.

Marcello was so completely puzzled by this extraordinary statement that he could find nothing to say for a few moments.  Then he felt that she had attacked his idol, and that Folco must be defended.

“If you could find a single thing, however small, to bring against him, it would not be so silly to say that his eyes frighten you.”

“There!” laughed Aurora.  “You might as well say that because at this moment there is only that one little cloud near the sun, there is no cloud at all!”

“How ridiculous!” Marcello expressed his contempt of such girlish reasoning by putting his rough little horse to a gallop.

“Men always say that,” retorted Aurora, with exasperating calm.  “I’ll race you to the tower for the first choice of oranges at dessert.  They are not very good this year, you know, and you like them.”

“Don’t be silly!” Marcello immediately reined his horse back to a walk, and looked very dignified.

“It is impossible to please you,” observed Aurora, slackening her pace at once.

“It is impossible, if you abuse Folco.”

“I am sure I did not mean to abuse him,” Aurora answered meekly.  “I never abuse anybody.”

“Women never do, I suppose,” retorted Marcello, with a little snort of dissatisfaction.

They were little more than children yet, and for pretty nearly five minutes neither spoke a word, as their horses walked side by side.

“The keeper of the tower has more chickens this year,” observed Aurora.  “I can see them running about.”

This remark was evidently intended as an overture of reconciliation.  It acted like magic upon Marcello, who hated quarrelling, and was moreover much more in love with the girl than he knew.  Instinctively he put out his left hand to take her right.  They always made peace by taking hands.

But Aurora’s did not move, and she did not even turn her head towards him.

“Take care!” she said quickly, in a low tone.  “They are watching us.”

Marcello looked round and saw that the others were nearer than he had supposed, and he blushed foolishly.

“Well, what harm would there be if you gave me your hand?” he asked.  “I only meant—­”

“Yes, I understand,” Aurora answered, in the same tone as before.  “And I am glad you like me, Marcello—­if you really do.”