Have I wearied you ?" Hedwig had unconsciously moved nearer to him as he was speaking, for he never raised his voice, and she hung on his words.

There was colour in her face, and her breath came quickly through her parted lips.

She had never looked so beautiful.
"Wearied me, signore?
Ah no; it is a gentle tale of yours." "It is a true tale--in part," said he.
"In part?
I do not understand--" But the colour was warmer in her cheek, and she turned her face half away, as though looking out.
"I will tell you," he replied, coming closer, on the side from which she turned.

"Here is the window.

You are the maiden.