“Are the princes there now?” she asked of the head-keeper.

He did not know; but a moment later a peasant, riding astride of a bag of corn upon his donkey’s back, passed along the straight road by the entrance to the bridle-path.  The keeper hailed him, and put the question.  Seeing Corona upon her mule, surrounded by armed men in livery, the man halted, and pulled off his soft black-cloth hat.

Both the princes were in Saracinesca, he said.  The young prince had been there ever since Easter.  They were busy building an aqueduct which was to supply the whole town with water; it was to pass above, up there among the woods.  The princes went almost every day to visit the works.  Her Excellency might, perhaps, find them there now, or if not, they were at the castle.

But her Excellency had no intention of finding them.  She gave the fellow a coin, and beat a somewhat hasty retreat.  Her followers were silent men, accustomed to obey, and they followed her down the steep path without even exchanging a word among themselves.  Beneath the shade of an overhanging rock she halted, and, dismounting from her mule, was served with the lunch that had been brought.  She ate little, and then sat thoughtfully contemplating the bare stones, while the men at a little distance hastily disposed of the remains of her meal.  She had experienced an extraordinary emotion on finding herself suddenly so near to Giovanni; it was almost as though she had seen him, and her heart beat fast, while a dark flush rose from time to time to her cheek.  It would have been so natural that he should pass that way, just as she was halting at the entrance to the bridle-path.  How unspeakably dreadful it would have been to be discovered thus spying out his dwelling-place when she had so strictly forbidden him to attempt to see her!  The blush burned upon her cheeks—­she had done a thing so undignified, so ill befitting her magnificent superiority.  For a moment she was desperately ashamed.  But for all that, she could not repress the glad delight she felt at knowing that he was there after all; that, if he had kept his word, in avoiding her, he had, nevertheless, also fulfilled his intention of spending the summer in Saracinesca.  He had even been there since Easter, and the story of his going to the North had been a mere invention of the newspapers.  She could not understand his conduct, nor why he had gone to Paris—­a fact attested by people who knew him.  It had probably been for some matter of business—­that excuse which, in a woman’s mind, explains almost any sudden journey a man may undertake.  But he was there in the castle now, and her heart was satisfied.