He looked shrewdly and earnestly into her face for a moment; and then turning his eyes to the stretch of road below, answered her: 

“Certainly, my daughter, that is the Marchese Ludovico.  The lady I never saw before as far as I am aware.  They are going towards Cervia.”

“No!  See, father!  They are turning off from the road to the left.  Where does that turning to the left go?”

“Only into the forest, daughter,—­or to that little farm-house you see there just at the edge of it.  You may get as far as the sea-shore through the Pineta; but the road is very bad for a carriage.”

“To the sea-shorn!” said Paolina, dreamily.

“Yes, by keeping the track due east.  The shore is not above a couple of miles away.  But there is no port, or even landing-place there.  And there are many tracks through the forest.  You may get to Cervia, too, that way.  But it is hardly likely that any one would leave the road to find a longer way by worse ways through the forest.  More likely the object of the Signor Marchese is only to show the lady the famous Pineta.”

Paolina, while the monk was thus speaking, had kept her eyes fixed upon the little carriage, which was making its way along a by-road constructed on the top of a dike by the side of one of the numerous streams that intersect all the district; and she continued to watch it till she saw it stop at the entrance to the yard of the little farmhouse, to which the monk had called her attention.  She then saw Ludovico and his companion descend from the carriage, and leave it apparently in the charge of a man, who came out from the farm-yard.  And they then left the spot where they had alighted on foot, and in another minute were no longer visible from the window at which Paolina and the monk stood.

“How long a walk is it, father, from here into the wood?” asked Paolina, musingly.

“It is a very short distance, daughter.  There is a footpath practicable in dry weather like this, a good deal nearer than the road we saw the bagarino follow.  You might get to the edge of the Pineta in that way in less than ten minutes.”

“And would it be possible to return to the city that way, instead of coming back to the road?” enquired Paolina.

“Yes; for a part of the way there is a path along the border of the wood.  Then you must fall back into the road.  The way lies by the gate of the farm-house.”

“I think I will go back to the city now, father.  This scaffold is just where it will suit me.  And tomorrow, a little later perhaps than this, I hope to come and begin my work.  I shall have to come in a carriage, at all events, the first time, because of bringing my things.  I am so much obliged to you, father, for your kindness.  And I am so glad that you are a Venetian.  I little thought to find a fellow-countryman here.”

“Or I to see this morning a Venetian—­much less—­but we will speak more of that another time—­if you will permit an old man sometimes to speak to you when you are at your work?”