“But I cannot possibly come to the palace alone,” she objected.  “It is quite out of the question.  Even if—­” she stopped.

“What?” he asked.

“Even if I were willing to do it—­” she hesitated again.

“You are not afraid, are you?” There was a slight intonation of irony in his question.

“No, I am not afraid.”  She paused a moment.  “I suppose that if I saw a way of coming, I would come,” she said, then.  “But I see no way.  I cannot go out alone.  Every one would know it.  There would be a terrible fuss about it!”

The idea evidently amused her.

“Could you come with Sassi?” asked Malipieri presently.  “He is respectable enough for anything.”

“Even that would be thought very strange,” answered Sabina.  “I have no good reason to give for going out alone with him.”

“You would not give any reason till afterwards, and when it is over there cannot really be anything to be said about it.  The Baroness goes out every afternoon.  You can make an excuse for staying at home to-morrow, and then you will be alone in the house.  Sassi will call for you in a closed cab and bring you to the palace, and I will be at the door to receive you.  The chances are that you will be at home again before the Baroness comes in, and she will never know that you have been out.  Does that look very hard?”

“No, it looks easy.”

“What time shall Sassi call for you to-morrow?” asked Malipieri, who wished to settle the matter at once.

“At five o’clock,” answered Sabina, after a moment’s thought.

“At five to-morrow, then.  You had better not wear anything very new.  The place where the statue lies is not a drawing-room, you know, and your frock may be spoilt.”

“Very well.”

She glanced at the clock, looked at Malipieri as if hesitating, and then rose.

“I shall go back to my room now,” she said.

“Yes.  It is better.  They may come in at any moment.”  He had risen also.

Their eyes met again, and they smiled at each other, as they realized what they were doing, that they had been nearly an hour together, unknown to any one, and had arranged something very like a clandestine meeting for the next day.  Sabina put out her hand.

“At five o’clock,” she said again.  “Good-night.”

He felt her touch for the first time since they had met.  It was light and elastic as the pressure of a very delicate spring, perfectly balanced and controlled.  But she, on her side, looked down suddenly and uttered an exclamation of surprise.

“Oh!  How rough your hand is!”

He laughed, and held out his palm, which was callous as a day-labourer’s.

“My man and I have done all the work ourselves,” he said, “and it has not been play.”

“It must be delightful!” answered Sabina with admiration.  “I wish I were a man!  We could have done it together.”