I am certainly no ghost. There was an air of repressed gaiety in her actions: the sense of freedom had returned; her heart was empty again. After all, what did it matter?—it or anything else in the world? She was within reach of his arms, beautiful, compelling, herself as it seemed suddenly conscious of the light which was burning in his eyes. For a time she could scarcely believe he was gone. “Stop! Stop telling me these things at once! We should stay in the Palazzo! I must protect my ancestral home!” Gianfrancesco exclaimed. She did not want particularly to know what had caused his agony, what had driven him back to the old coat. There was little more here than a sideboard, a chest for the vestments, and a simple wooden chair. Her heart in her mouth, hoping against hope, Melusine made her way back to where she had left the boy. His wife's portrait had been removed from the walls, and the place it had occupied was only to be known by the cord by which it had been suspended.
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