And Stella agreed.

The road to Viterbo is far from good, one of those splendid routes
which lead from Rome which ought to be so perfect and in reality
are a mass of ruts and pitfalls for the unwary. The jolting of the
car constantly threw Stella almost into her lover's arms, who was
sitting as aloof as possible. He had gradually become nearly
silent, and sat there holding her hand under the rug, using the
whole of his strong will to suppress his rising emotion.

The beautiful colors of the lights of evening over the Campagna;
the sense of the spring time and the knowledge that she belonged
to him heart and body and soul were madly intoxicating as they
rushed through the air. He dared not let himself caress her
gently, which he might have permitted himself to do, and he held
her little hand so tightly it was almost pain to her.

As for Stella, she was profoundly in love. Her whole nature seemed
to be awaking and blooming with a new grace and meaning. Her soft
eyes, which glanced at him in the glowing dusk, swam with
tenderness and unconscious passion, and once she let her head rest
upon his shoulder, when a violent jerk threw her toward him, and
at last he encircled her with his arm and there they sat trembling
together, she with she knew not what, and he very well knowing,
and fighting with temptation.

Thus they spent an hour in a bliss that was growing to agony for
him, and then it grew perfectly dark, and the stars came out in
myriads in the deep blue sky, and on in front of them the
headlights of the motor made a flaming path in the night.