western front of the church, and was now moving along the bit of
road visible from the high window at which the monk and Paolina were
standing.

The tone in which she spoke caused the friar to look at her first,
before turning his glance in the direction to which she pointed. She
was pale, and evidently much moved, after a fashion that, taken
together with the nature of the objects to which she drew his
attention, and the fact that it was the Marchese Ludovico who had
come to St. Apollinare to make the arrangements needed for the
artist's work there, left but little doubt in the old man's mind as
to the nature of her emotion.

He looked shrewdly and earnestly into her face for a moment; and
then turning his eyes to the stretch of road below, answered her:

"Certainly, my daughter, that is the Marchese Ludovico. The lady I
never saw before as far as I am aware. They are going towards
Cervia."

"No! See, father! They are turning off from the road to the left.
Where does that turning to the left go?"

"Only into the forest, daughter,--or to that little farm-house you
see there just at the edge of it. You may get as far as the sea-
shore through the Pineta; but the road is very bad for a carriage."

"To the sea-shorn!" said Paolina, dreamily.

"Yes, by keeping the track due east. The shore is not above a couple