back, covered with blushes, for on the bank of moss, shaded by the
protecting canopy, whose waving blossoms were reflected on the
fountain, Flodoardo was seated, and fixed his eyes on a roll of
parchment.

Rosabella hesitated whether she should retire or stay. Flodoardo
started from his place, apparently in no less confusion than
herself, and relieved her from her indecision by taking her hand
with respect, and conducting her to the seat which he had just
quitted.

Now, then, she could not possibly retire immediately, unless she
meant to violate every common principle of good breeding.

Her hand was still clasped in Flodoardo's; but it was so natural for
him to take it, that she could not blame him for having done so.
But what was she next to do? Draw her hand away? Why should she,
since he did her hand no harm by keeping it, and the keeping it
seemed to make him so happy? And how could the gentle Rosabella
resolve to commit an act of such unheard-of cruelty as wilfully to
deprive any one of a pleasure which made him so happy, and which did
herself no harm?

"Signora," said Flodoardo, merely for the sake of saying something,
"you do well to enjoy the open air. The evening is beautiful."

"But I interrupt your studies, my lord," said Rosabella.

"By no means," answered Flodoardo; and there this interesting
conversation came to a full stop. Both looked down; both examined