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It began to back, and in a moment was level with them.
"Emile! How strange to meet you! Have--you haven't been to the
island?"
"No. I was tired. I have been working very hard. I dined quietly at
Posilipo."
He did not ask her where she had been.
"Yes. I think you look tired," she said. He did not speak, and she
added: "I felt restless, so I took the tram from the Trattoria del
Giardinetto as far as the Scoglio di Frisio, and am going back, as you
see, by boat."
"It is exquisite on the sea to-night," he said.
"Yes, exquisite, it makes one sad."
She remembered all she had been through that day, as she looked at his
powerful face.
"Yes," he answered. "It makes one sad."
For a moment she felt that they were in perfect sympathy, as they used
to be. Their sadness, born of the dreaming hour, united them.
"Come soon to the island, dear Emile," she said, suddenly and with the
impulsiveness that was part of her, forgetting all her jealousy and
all her shadowy fears.


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