On the following evening, again, they drove along the road that led up the valley.  But they had not gone far when they saw in the distance a cloud of dust, from which in a few moments emerged a vehicle drawn by three strong horses, and driven by Giovanni Saracinesca himself.  His father sat beside him in front, and a man in livery was seated at the back, with a long rifle between his knees.  The vehicle was a kind of double cart, capable of holding four persons, and two servants at the back.

In a moment the two carriages met and stopped side by side.  Giovanni sprang from his seat, throwing the reins to his father, who stood up hat in hand, and bowed from where he was.  Corona held out her hand to Giovanni as he stood bareheaded in the road beside her.  One long look told all the tale; there could be no words there before the Sister and the old Prince, but their eyes told all—­the pain of past separation, the joy of two loving hearts that met at last without hindrance.

“Let your servant drive, and get in with us,” said Corona, who could hardly speak in her excitement.  Then she started slightly, and smiled in her embarrassment.  She had continued to hold Giovanni’s hand, unconsciously leaving her fingers in his.

The Prince’s groom climbed into the front seat, and old Saracinesca got down and entered the landau.  It was a strangely silent meeting, long expected by the two who so loved each other—­long looked for, but hardly realised now that it had come.  The Prince was the first to speak, as usual.

“You expected to meet us, Duchessa?” he said; “we expected to meet you.  An expectation fulfilled is better than a surprise.  Everything at Saracinesca is prepared for your reception.  Don Angelo, our priest, has been warned of your coming, and the boy who serves mass has been washed.  You may imagine that a great festivity is expected.  Giovanni has turned the castle inside out, and had a room hung entirely with tapestries of my great-grandmother’s own working.  He says that since the place is so old, its antiquity should be carried into the smallest details.”

Corona laughed gaily—­she would have laughed at anything that day—­and the old Prince’s tone was fresh and sparkling and merry.  He had relieved the first embarrassment of the situation.

“There have been preparations at Astrardente for your reception, too,” answered the Duchessa.  “There was a difficulty of choice, as there are about a hundred vacant rooms in the house.  The butler proposed to give you a suite of sixteen to pass the night in, but I selected an airy little nook in one of the wings, where you need only go through ten to get to your bedroom.”

“There is nothing like space,” said the Prince; “it enlarges the ideas.”

“I cannot imagine what my father would do if his ideas were extended,” remarked Giovanni.  “Everything he imagines is colossal already.  He talks about tunnelling the mountains for my aqueduct, as though it were no more trouble than to run a stick through a piece of paper.”