overlooking an ample garden wherein were vines, flowers, and fruit
trees.

"You have a way of words," said she. "It is almost possible to believe
you."

He stopped and for a long moment looked into her eyes. "I love you,
sweet girl," he said, softly; "I love you. As I live, I speak the
truth."

"And you a man!" she exclaimed, incredulously.

"Ay, strange as it may be, a Roman."

"My mother has told me," said she, looking down at her sandal, "that
when a man speaks, it is well to listen but never to believe."

"They are not easy to understand--these men and women," said he,
thoughtfully. "Sometimes I think they would be nobler if they were
dumb as dogs. Albeit I suppose they would find a new way of lying.
But, O sweet sister of Appius, try to believe me, though you believe no
other, and I--I shall believe you always."

"You had better not," said she, with a merry glance.

"I must."

"But you will doubt me soon, for I shall say that I do not love you."

For a little he knew not how to answer. She turned away, looking off