The old priest laughed, and put his hand upon the shoulder of

Emilia.

"You have spared this young lady an embarrassing avowal.

Brandy is exactly what she was screwing her courage to the

point of asking for."

"Oh, no!" protested Emilia, in a deep Italian voice, with

passionate seriousness.

But Peter fetched a decanter, and poured brandy for everyone.

"I drink to your health--c'est bien le cas de le dire. I hope

you will not have caught your deaths of cold," he said.

"Oh, we are quite warm now," said the Duchessa. "We are snug

in an ingle on Mount Ararat."

"Our wetting will have done us good--it will make us grow. You

and I will never regret that, will we, Emilietta?" said the

priest.

A lively colour had come into the Duchessa's cheeks; her eyes

seemed unusually bright. Her hair was in some disorder,

drooping at the sides, and blown over her brow in fine free

wavelets. It was dark in the kitchen, save for the firelight,

which danced fantastically on the walls and ceiling, and struck

a ruddy glow from Marietta's copper pots and pans. The rain

pattered lustily without; the wind wailed in the chimney; the

lightning flashed, the thunder volleyed. And Peter looked at

the Duchessa--and blessed the elements. To see her seated

there, in her wet gown, seated familiarly, at her ease, before

his fire, in his kitchen, with that colour in her cheeks, that

brightness in her eyes, and her hair in that disarray--it was

unspeakable; his heart closed in a kind of delicious spasm.

And the fragrance, subtle, secret, evasive, that hovered in the

air near her, did not diminish his emotion.

"I wonder," she asked, with a comical little glance upwards at

him, "whether you would resent it very much if I should take

off my hat--because it's a perfect reservoir, and the water

will keep trickling down my neck."

His joy needed but this culmination that she should take off

her hat!

"Oh, I beg of you--" he returned fervently.

"You had better take yours off too, Emilia," said the Duchessa.

"Admire masculine foresight," said the priest. "I took mine

off when I came in."

"Let me hang them up," said Peter.

It was wonderful to hold her hat in his hand--it was like

holding a part of herself. He brushed it surreptitiously

against his face, as he hung it up. Its fragrance--which met

him like an answering caress, almost--did not lessen his

emotion.




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