“Yet is he so presumptuous, my father?”

“My daughter!  Stella Borelloni, can an obscure man aspire to the hand of the fairest in Tuscany?”

“He may not always be obscure.”

“Why do you speak thus to me, Stella?  Can it be possible that you-But no, it is not.  I will not think of it nor speak of it.”

And shortly afterwards they went within.  Stella retired to her chamber, and thought of her father’s words.  They gave her hope.  He no longer despised Mario.  He could not.  But he was angry at his presumption.  Obscurity was Mario’s greatest fault in his eyes.

“I will take courage,” she thought.  “Hope comes to me.  Mario’s greatness of genius has been confessed by my father.  It will soon be confessed by the world.”

Meantime, Mario had become wearied of the heat of Florence.  He longed for quiet and seclusion.  He wished to spend the sultry summer months in some cooler and more agreeable retreat.

“By the lake of Perugia,” thought he—­“Stella lives.  If I go there I can see her as she walks or rides around.  I can feast my eyes upon her, although I am resolved to remain unseen myself.  I will take my picture there, and receive that inspiration which her angelic beauty always gives me.”

He came to the lake and dwelt in a small house upon its banks, scarce half a mile away.  Daily he would go to the top of a cliff near by, and when Stella walked out his eyes followed her, and she, always thinking of him, knew not that he was so near.

When she departed to ride along the borders of the lake, or for a sail upon its waters, he watched her, and sometimes encountered her dressed in disguise.

For two weeks he remained there, and kept his resolution of never making known his presence.  But soon an occurrence took place which caused him to be discovered, yet in such a way that he rejoiced at the discovery.

It was a sultry morning, and desirous of coolness, Stella with a few other friends resolved to take a sail upon the lake.  There was a threatening aspect about the horizon, but it was unnoticed by those who were intent on pleasure.  Borelloni remained at home, being employed at some business.

Mario sat at his usual place on the summit of the rock, and watching the preparations, knew their object.  An awning was placed above the boat-a high and broad awning, which could effectually keep off the hot rays of the sun.

Mario looked with anxiety upon the preparations, for he knew the signs of the weather, and feared the appearance of the sky.  All was calm, oppressively calm, and fearful to one who knew how suddenly storms arise under such circumstances.  He would have warned them, but he did not dare to, for fear of discovering himself.  So he was compelled to sit in a state of inaction and watch with feverish anxiety the approaching excursion.

The party left the house, they were four in number, and the heart of Mario throbbed violently as he recognized the form and features of Stella among them.  They went gaily to the boat which was now completely ready, and soon were seated beneath the awning.  As there was no wind, sails were useless, so they were rowed out into the lake.