She leaned forward, her chin in her palms, her elbows on her knees, and she set her gaze upon his face and kept it there in dreamy contemplation. He had not addressed to her even the most ordinary courtesy of fellow travellers; she doubted that he was even aware of her existence. Treading with noiseless step over the soft mould, they soon reached the building. A question next arose whether the prisoner could be executed under the existing warrant,—some inclining to one opinion, some to another. I might have told you the truth. She had fled back to Florence quite intent on slitting the new bride’s throat.
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