For a few moments she read a paper-covered volume, and Edmund determined
to creep away at once, when she suddenly got up and began walking again
with long, quick steps, her train sweeping the grass as she came towards
the great wall; and he drew back a little, although it was almost
impossible that she should see him. Her gown, of a dark dove colour,
floated softly; it had much lace about the throat on which shone a
string of enormous pearls; and she wore long, grey gloves. Edmund, who
was an authority on the subject, thought her exquisitely dressed, as a
woman who feels herself of great importance will dress even when there
is no one to see her. In the midst of the extraordinarily wizened face
were great dark eyes full of expression, with a fierce brightness in
them. It was as if an internal fire were burning up the dried and
wizened features, and could only find an outlet through the eyes.
Rapidly she had passed up and down, and sometimes as she came nearer the
wall Edmund saw her flash angry glances, and sometimes sarcastic
glances, while her lips moved rapidly, and her very small gloved hand
clenched and unclenched.

At last a noise in the deserted road behind him, the growing rumbling of
a cart, made him think it safer to move, even at the risk of a little
sound in doing so. He reached the ground safely before he could be seen,
and proceeded to brush the brick-dust off the torn knees of his grey
trousers.

He walked down the hill into the town with an air of finality, for he
had determined to go back to England. He could not have analysed his
impressions; he could not have accounted for his sense of impotence and
defeat, but so it was. He had come across the personality of Madame
Danterre, and he thereupon left her in possession of the field. But at
the same time, before leaving Florence, he gave largely of the sinews of