The peasant's language was refined; Espérance noted this fact and was not a little surprised thereby; in addition, he could not understand why the stranger should be reading "Cæsar's Commentaries," a work far beyond the range of the usual peasant intellect.
"You are committing no intrusion," said he. "Lorenzo and Annunziata, I am sure, would be glad to welcome you. Old Pasquale is somewhat of a savage, it is true, but luckily he does not bother himself much about anything or anybody."
"Pasquale has arrived then?" said the man, dropping his book and evincing a sudden interest.
"Yes; he is in the cabin now," answered Espérance, his astonishment increasing. "Do you want to speak with him?"
"No," said the peasant, lightly springing to his feet. He hastily closed his book, thrust it into his belt, and, bowing to Espérance, disappeared in the forest.
The young man looked after him for an instant; then he joined Lorenzo and informed him of the meeting. At his first words Annunziata's brother ceased singing; a cloud overspread his brow, and he asked, in an eager tone, for a description of the curiously behaved stranger. Espérance gave it to him, remarking as he did so that his companion turned slightly pale and seemed frightened.
"Who is this man?" he asked, as he concluded. "Do you know him? He appeared strangely familiar to me."
"Do I know him?" repeated Lorenzo, with a shudder. "Yes--that is no!"
Espérance stared at his comrade in surprise and uneasiness; the youthful peasant evidently had more knowledge of the singular intruder than he was willing to admit. There was surely some mystery here. What was it? Did the presence of this stranger menace the peace, the tranquillity, the safety of the Solara family? Was he in some dark way associated with the movements and actions of old Pasquale? Espérance attempted to question Lorenzo further, but he only shook his head and declined to make any disclosures. He, however, stipulated that his sister should not be informed of what had occurred, urging that there was no necessity of uselessly alarming her. Alarming her? What could he mean? Espérance grew more and more perplexed, and his conviction that he had met the stranger previously, increasing in strength, added to his anxiety and discomfort.
For some hours Giovanni had kept his room and given no sign. What was he meditating? Was it possible that he was concocting some cunning plan by which to circumvent intervention and gain undisturbed possession of the girl who had so powerfully influenced his passions? Could it be that he was in some mysterious way associated with the strange peasant, whose sudden advent seemed of such ill omen? Espérance thought of all these things and was infinitely tortured by them, but, one by one, he succeeded in dismissing them from his mind. Giovanni was certainly under a potent spell that might lead him to the commission of any indiscretion, but he was at bottom a man of honor, and there was some chance that his better feelings might obtain the mastery of his mere physical inclinations. At any rate, Espérance felt that he could trust him for one night more at least. Perhaps in the morning he would awaken to a true sense of his position and acknowledge his error; he might even implore his friend's pardon, admit that he was right and consent to return to Rome, leaving the bewitching Annunziata in all her innocence and purity. Upon reflection Espérance decided that the stranger could be in nowise the associate or accomplice of the Viscount, for the latter had communicated with no one, had not even gone a dozen steps from the Solara cabin during his entire period of convalescence. The idea of collusion was untenable. Espérance resolved to watch and wait. There was no telling what a few hours might bring forth; but at the worst he would fight; if he fell he would not regret it, and, if Giovanni perished at his hands, his death would be due to his own headlong impulses and his blood, under the circumstances, could not be a disgraceful, dishonorable stain.