She was not afraid exactly, but there was that about her loneliness to-night she distrusted. She fixed her eyes upon it and ran, keeping always as far as possible in the shadow of the hedge, gazing fearfully every now and then down along the valley for the white smoke of the train. Father had traveled to Florence to the Mercato Nuovo, staying away for a half year at a time paying court to the house of the silk merchant Iovelli, which was patronized by none other than the Medicis. Was she so fearful still? Roding shrugged and grimaced. The barmaids had too strongly appealed to his sense of novelty.
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