They stood hand in hand looking out of the window, and there were tears in the eyes of both.  The grasp of their fingers tightened slowly as though they were drawn together by an irresistible force.  Slowly they turned their faces towards each other, and presently their lips met in one of those kisses that are never forgotten.  Then Giovanni left her where she was.  All had been said; both knew that they desired nothing more in this world, and that henceforth they were all to each other.  It was as though a good angel had set a heavenly seal upon the reunion of their hearts.

Corona did not leave the room immediately, but remained a few moments leaning against the heavy frame of the window.  Her queenly figure drooped a little, and she pressed one hand to her side.  Her dark face was bent down, and the tears that had of old come so rarely made silver lines upon her olive cheeks.  There was not one drop of bitterness in that overflowing of her soul’s transcendent joy, in that happiness which was so great and perfect that it seemed almost unbearable.

And she had reason to be glad.  In the midst of a calamity which would have absorbed the whole nature of many men, Giovanni had not one thought that was not for her.  Giovanni, who had once doubted her, who had said such things to her as she dared not remember—­ Giovanni, suffering under a blow to his pride, that was worse almost than total ruin, had but one wish, to make another sacrifice for her.  That false past, of which she hated to think, was gone like an evil dream before the morning sun, that true past, which was her whole life, was made present again.  The love that had been so bruised and crushed that she had thought it dead had sprung up again from its deep, strong roots, grander and nobler than before.  The certainty that it was real was overwhelming, and drowned all her senses in a trance of light.

Faustina Montevarchi entered the drawing-room softly, then, seeing no one, she advanced till she came all at once upon Corona in the embrasure of the window.  The princess started slightly when she saw that she was not alone.

“Corona!” exclaimed the young girl.  “Are you crying?  What is it?”

“Oh, Faustina!  I am so happy!” It was a relief to be able to say it to some one.

“Happy?” repeated Faustina in surprise.  “But there are tears in your eyes, on your cheeks—­”

“You cannot understand—­I do not wonder—­how should you?  And besides, I cannot tell you what it is.”

“I wish I were you,” answered her friend sadly.  “I wish I were happy!”

“What is it, child?” asked Corona kindly.  Then she led Faustina to a stiff old sofa at one end of the vast room and they sat down together.  “What is it?” she repeated, drawing the girl affectionately to her side.

“You know what it is, dear.  No one can help me.  Oh, Corona! we love each other so very much!”

“I know—­I know it is very real.  But you must have a little patience, darling.  Love will win in the end.  Just now, too—­” She did not finish the sentence, but she had touched a sensitive spot in Faustina’s conscience.