In truth, the memory of it had already dropped away into the gulf of
time as if their love had endured for years. Elena's words raised that
illusion in Andrea's mind, but, at the same time, a certain uneasiness.
She began recalling the details of their visit to Santa Sabina one
afternoon in January under a prematurely mild sun. She dwelt insistently
upon the most trivial incidents, breaking off from time to time as if
following a separate train of thought, distinct from the words she
uttered. Andrea fancied he caught a note of regret in her voice. Yet,
what had she to regret? Surely their love had many a sweeter day before
it still--the Spring had come again to Rome. Doubting and perplexed, he
ceased to listen to her. The horses went on down the hill at a walk,
side by side, snorting noisily from time to time, and putting their
heads together, as if exchanging confidences. Famulus sped on before, or
bounded after them, perpetually on the gallop.
'Do you remember,' Elena went on, 'do you remember the Brother who came
to open the gates for us when we rang the bell?'
'Yes--yes.'
'And how perfectly aghast he looked when he saw who it was? He was such
a little, little red-faced man without any beard. When he went to get
the keys of the church, he left us alone in the vestibule--and you
kissed me--do you remember?'
'Yes.
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