she added: "That's enough childishness! I dislike such silly freaks."

"Oh! aunt," Benedetta murmured. "But I'm so happy, it's so long since I
laughed so good-heartedly."

Pierre had hitherto remained listening, enlivened by the sight of her
gaiety. But now, as a little chill fell, he raised his voice to say that
on the previous day he himself had been astonished to see the famous
fig-tree of Frascati still bearing fruit so late in the year. This was
doubtless due, however, to the tree's position and the protection of a
high wall.

"Ah! so you saw the tree?" said Benedetta.

"Yes, and I even travelled with those figs which you would so much like
to taste."

"Why, how was that?"

The young man already regretted the reply which had escaped him. However,
having gone so far, he preferred to say everything. "I met somebody at
Frascati who had come there in a carriage and who insisted on driving me
back to Rome," said he. "On the way we picked up Abbe Santobono, who was
bravely making the journey on foot with his basket in his hand. And
afterwards we stopped at an /osteria/--" Then he went on to describe the
drive and relate his impressions whilst crossing the Campagna amidst the
falling twilight. But Benedetta gazed at him fixedly, aware as she was of
Prada's frequent visits to the land and houses which he owned at
Frascati; and suddenly she murmured: "Somebody, somebody, it was the
Count, was it not?"