aqueducts was no doubt optical illusion; but Regina, who had little confidence in her eyes yet was obstinate in refusing spectacles, felt none the less excited by the sublime visions she believed herself seeing in the dimness of the wind-swept window-pane. Rome! she was filled with childish joy at the mere thought that Rome was near. Rome! the long-dreamed-of wonder city, the world's metropolis, the home of all splendours, all delight—Rome, which was now to become her own! She forgot everything else; fatigue, mourning for the dear things lost, trepidation as to her future, fear of the strangers awaiting her, the embarrassments of the first days of marriage, all sadness, disappointment, delusion—all disappeared in the realisation of her long dream so ardently indulged.
Antonio got up and joined her at the window, which reflected his fine person—tall, fair, easy in attitude, dominant in manner. Regina saw—still in the glass—his long grey eyes looking at her caressingly, his well-shaped mouth smiling and suggesting a kiss, and she felt happy, happy, happy!
"Think!" said Antonio, bending over her as if to confide a secret; "think, my queen! We are at Rome!"
She did not reply. "Are you thinking of it?" he insisted.
"Of course I am!"
"Does your heart beat?"
Regina smiled, a trifle contemptuously, not choosing to let him see all her excitement and delight.
Antonio looked at his watch.
"A quarter of an hour more. If there wasn't such a wind, I'd make you look out."
