But she left me there, as I waited in the saloon open to the shadowed garden; and I knew not whether I felt her the more certainly for her absence than for her former persistent company.

CHAPTER XLIII

AGITATIONS AT THE VILLA SAN GIORGIO

The servant, an old one of Donna Giulia’s, who knew me well by sight, had grimaced pleasantly as he saluted.  “Buon di, signoria,” he had said, and “Servitore del ’lustrissimo.”  The padrona, he felt sure, was in the house, and the Excellency of the count was paying a visit.  Let the ’lustrissimo accommodate himself, take repose, walk in the garden, do his perfect pleasure.  In two little moments the padrona should be informed.  With that he had gone away, leaving a volley of nods, winks and exclamations behind him.  The windows stood open, the hour, the season invited.  I saw the long, velvety vista of the cypress avenue, the slender feathers of trees in young leaf, the pleasantness of the grass, heard the invitation of a calling thrush, thought poignantly of Virginia, and went out, hoping to see her spirit there.

I paced the well-remembered long avenue to where it opened into a circle to meet two others.  A sun-dial stood here in the midst and marked a point from which you could look three ways—­behind you to the house, to the right and to the left.  I chose for the right, and sauntered slowly towards the statue of the Dancing Faun, which closed that particular alley.

Strange, indeed, it was to be within the personal circle of Donna Aurelia, and undisturbed!  But I did not realise then how near her I was.

The sound of voices in debate broke in upon my meditations—­a woman’s clear “No, no.  At this hour, no!” and a man’s, which urged, “Signora, if my devotion—­” I knew both voices—­the woman’s was not to be mistaken.  Aurelia was there—­the divine Aurelia—­close at hand.  Without thinking what I did, I took a strong breath and stepped forward to my task.  I reached the statue of the faun, which leered and writhed its leathery tongue at me; and in the bay which opened out beyond it I found Aurelia and the count together.

The fair Aurelia was flushed and disarrayed.  Her hair was half uncoiled, her bodice undone.  She lay, or rather reclined, upon a garden seat; one hand was clapped to her side, one hand guarded her bosom.  The count, who had his back to me, was upon one knee before her.  He was, or had been, eloquent.  At the moment of my appearance he had finished his period, and still trembled with the passion of it.  For the cynic philosopher he professed to be, he was, at the moment, singularly without relish of the humours of his position.

Coming upon all this, I stopped suddenly short.  Aurelia saw me, and uttered a cry.  At the same instant her hands were busy with her dress.  The count, on his feet in a moment, turned his head, started violently, then controlled himself, and advanced to meet me, whom he had once called his friend.