"The same one whom you had seen in your dream?"

"The same. She was standing facing the sun, for it was still early, and one of her hands was resting against the brick pillar, just as it had rested against the column."

"That is certainly very extraordinary," said Guido, his tone changing. Then he seemed about to speak again, but checked himself.

Lamberti rested his elbows on the table and his chin on his folded hands, and looked into his friend's eyes in silence. His own face had grown perceptibly paler in the last few minutes.

"Guido," he said, after what seemed a long pause, "you were going to ask what happened next. I do not know what you thought, nor what stopped you, for between you and me there is no such thing as indiscretion, and, besides, you will never know who the lady was."

"I do not wish to guess. Do not say anything that could help me."

"Of course not. Any woman you know might have taken it into her head to go to the Forum this morning."

"Certainly."

"This is what happened. I stood perfectly still in surprise. She may have heard my footstep or not; she knew some one was behind her. Then she slowly turned her head till we could see each other's faces."

He paused again, and passed one hand lightly over his eyes.

"Yes," said Guido, "I suppose I can guess what is coming."

"No!" Lamberti cried, in such a tone that the other started. "You cannot guess. We looked at each other. It seemed a very long time—two or three minutes at least—as if we were both paralysed. Though we recognised each other perfectly well, we could neither of us speak. Then it seemed to me that something I could not resist was drawing me towards her, but I am sure I did not really move the hundredth part of a step. I shall never forget the look in her face."

Another pause, not long, but strangely breathless.

"I ha