“The deuce you did not!  Did another gentleman undertake the duty of escorting the lady back to town?  It is all exceedingly pleasant for the Marchese Lamberto, upon my word!—­oh, exceedingly!—­and really a foretaste to him of the joys to come, quite frankly offered to him on the part of the lady!” sneered the old lawyer.

“Pshaw! how she may have come back, or with whom, I don’t know, and can’t guess; and that is just what I am anxious to find out,” said Ludovico, in provoked impatience.

“I don’t understand.  Where did you part with the lady?” persisted the lawyer, interested rather by the evident uneasiness of the Marchese Ludovico, than by any care how and in what company Bianca might have found her way back to the city.

“Well, that’s just the curious part of the matter.  If you want to know how the thing happened, since you know so much already, walk with me to the Strada di Porta Sisi, and I will tell you how it happened.  At the ball we spoke of the Pineta,—­she had never seen it,—­asked me to show it to her.  In short, we agreed to start on leaving the ball, instead of going to bed.  I got a bagarino, and drove her to the farmhouse by the edge of the wood, just behind St. Apollinare; left the bagarino there, and strolled into the wood.  It was there that she told me of my uncle’s purpose.  And I was not a little taken aback, as you may suppose.  However, that is matter for talk by-and-by.  We strolled about a good while, then sat down.  She told me a good deal of the history of her life.  We must have been talking—­I don’t know how long; but a long time.  Then she said she was so sleepy, she must have a little sleep; she could keep her eyes open no longer.  Natural enough!  She had been dancing all night—­had never closed her eyes for a minute since.  The bank we were sitting on was the most delicious place for a siesta that can be conceived.  In two minutes she was fast asleep.  She slept on and on till I was tired of waiting.  No doubt I should have slept too, had not the intelligence she had given me been of a sort to keep me waking, for one while at least.  Having my mind full of this, and not being able to sleep, I strayed away from her, and returned in a few minutes, as I think, to the place where I had left her, but could not find her.  I could not be sure about the place.  One bit of the forest is so much like another,—­just the same thing over and over again,—­that I could not feel quite sure of the spot.  I still think I went back to the right place; but there she was not.  Then I searched the wood all round, far and near, for, I should think, a couple of hours or more.  I called aloud, again and again, all to no purpose.  And what on earth has become of her I cannot imagine.”

“And why you need trouble your head about it, I don’t see.  I wished the devil might fly away with her just now!  And if the devil has taken the hint and done so, I confess it seems to me about the best thing that could happen!  Why on earth you, of all people in the world, Signor Ludovico, should be so anxious to recover the lady, I confess I cannot understand.  Would it not be the best thing in the world for you if she were never heard of again?”