Book 2, Chapter 16: “To-Morrow?”

⁠​​​‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌⁠When, in her Carmelite mantle, she came to the Lungarno Acciaoli, at about half-past six, Dechartre greeted her with a humble look that moved her. The setting sun made the Arno purple. They remained silent for a moment. While they were walking past the monotonous line of palaces to the old bridge, she was the first to speak.

“You see, I have come. I thought I ought to come. I do not think I am alto