Poor Fontenelle! One must try and think as kindly
as possible of him now--he is dead. But I cannot think it was right
of him to accuse my Florian!"
Just then she heard a soft knocking. It came from the door at the
furthest end of the studio, one which communicated with a small
stone courtyard, which in its turn opened out to a narrow street
leading down to the Tiber. It was the entrance at which models
presented themselves whenever Angela needed them.
"Angela!" called a melodious voice, which she recognised at once as
the dearest to her in the world. "Angela!"
She hurried to the door but did not open it.
"Florian!" she said softly, putting her lips close to the panel,
"Florian, caro mio! Why are you here?"
"I want to come in," said Florian, "I have news, Angela! I must see
you!"
She hesitated a moment longer, and then she undid the bolt, and
admitted him. He entered with a smiling and victorious air.
"I am all alone here," she said at once, before he could speak,
"Father is at Frascati on some business--and my uncle the Cardinal
is at the Vatican. Will you not come back later?"
For all answer, Florian took her in his arms with quite a reverent
tenderness, and kissed her softly on brow and lips.
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