A long minute of silence followed. The three were standing near the beautiful, little, solitary cemetery, where had been sleeping in the high mountains for years, or months, or days, unknown men, women, and children; the flowers were hardly bowing over the stones, which were becoming even whiter in the sunset.
"I beg pardon," murmured Lucio, recovering his composure. "I have to restore you something, Miss Temple."
"My purse--really!" she exclaimed, advancing a little, somewhat anxiously.
And drawing the precious object from his pocket he gave it to Miss Lilian Temple. The beautiful eyes glanced with sweetness, and the mouth, so perfect, smiled; the little hand clasped the recovered object, as if to caress it.
Then she stretched out the little hand that was free, gloved in white. He took it lightly and kept it but for a moment in his own, then he released it with a deep bow.
Miss May Ford, silent, indifferent, strange, waited. Now all three were silent, while for a long time Lucio Sabini fixed his eyes on the enchanting face for which the blond hair made a soft aureole. At last he said, with a courteous smile:
"Did not Miss Temple promise a reward to whomsoever brought back her purse?"
The girl, marvelling a little, raised her eyebrows, questioning the Italian gentleman without speaking.
"Lucio Sabini asks her, as reward, to be allowed to accompany her now as far as the 'Kulm.'"
"Certainly, sir," replied the girl at once in a frank way. "My dear friend, Miss May Ford, Signor Lucio Sabini."
The elderly English lady replied with cold courtesy to the greeting of Don Lucio Sabini. And without giving another glance to the surrounding country, which was enveloping itself in the finest tints, from a delicate violet to the most delicate green, the three withdrew from the quiet cemetery and proceeded silently along the broad high road that leads to the Dorf. Lilian Temple's step was rather quick, and Lucio Sabini adapted his to the girl's. Miss May Ford went more slowly.
"Are you glad, Miss Temple, to have found your purse?" he began to say in his insinuating voice that in French became even more penetrating.
"So glad: I am very grateful to you, Signor."
"Perhaps it was a souvenir, or a gift?" he ventured to ask, scrutinising those beautiful blue eyes.