At sight of the Prince halted on
the path and looking down into her uplifted face, she blushed. It was
just such a blush as had dyed her cheeks painfully the night when he
frowned in answer to her friendly smile; and Vanno knew that she was
thinking of it. The remorse he had suffered then, when too late, came
back to him. If she had not blushed now in the same childlike, hurt way,
he was sure that he could have kept to his resolution not to speak. He
would simply have stood still, gazing away into distance until she was
ready to go on; or at most he would have said with cool politeness,
"Please don't let me disturb you. I am in no hurry to pass." But in an
instant it rushed over him that here was his chance to atone for an
unkindness, and that if he did not quickly seize it he would be sorry
all the rest of his life. Besides, it flashed into his mind that by
speaking of a certain thing he could easily lead up to the subject of
the cure. He wanted very much to know whether she attached any
importance to the visits of the priest.
Vanno took off his hat to Mary, bowing gravely. He had guessed her
reason for bringing the car to rest at this place, and it gave him his
excuse. A step or two farther down the mule path brought him near enough
to speak without raising his voice. "I think," he said, "you must have
stopped here to look at the marble tablet set in the rock. Will you let
me tell you something about it--unless you know its history already?"
"I thank you.
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