's words, and thought of what she had done, in terror and
remorse, and tried to ask if the people would be fighting now, but could
not. Laura seemed to stand before her like a Fury stretching her finger
at the dear brave men whom she had hurled upon the bayonets and the guns.
It was an unendurable anguish. Giacinta was compelled to let her cry, and
had to reflect upon their present situation unaided. They had passed the
city gates. Voices on the coachman's box had given German pass-words. She
would have screamed then had not the carriage seemed to her a sanctuary
from such creatures as foreign soldiers, whitecoats; so she cowered on.
They were in the starry open country, on the high-road between the
vine-hung mulberry trees. She held the precious head of her mistress,
praying the Saints that strength would soon come to her to talk of their
plight, or chatter a little comfortingly at least; and but for the
singular sweetness which it shot thrilling to her woman's heart, she
would have been fretted when Vittoria, after one long-drawn wavering sob,
turned her lips to the bared warm breast, and put a little kiss upon it,
and slept.

CHAPTER XXIII

FIRST HOURS OF THE FLIGHT

Vittoria slept on like an outworn child, while Giacinta nodded over her,
and started, and wondered what embowelled mountain they might be passing
through, so cold was the air and thick the darkness; and wondered more at
the old face of dawn, which appeared to know nothing of her agitation.
But morning was better than night, and she ceased counting over her sins
forward and backward; adding comments on them, excusing some and
admitting the turpitude of others, with 'Oh! I was naughty, padre mio! I
was naughty--she huddled them all into one of memory's spare sacks, and
tied the neck of it, that they should keep safe for her father-confessor.
At such times, after a tumult of the blood, women have tender delight in
one another's beauty. Giacinta doted on the marble cheek, upturned on her
lap, with the black unbound locks slipping across it; the braid of the
coronal of hair loosening; the chance flitting movement of the pearly
little dimple that lay at the edge of the bow of the joined lips, like
the cradling hollow of a dream. At whiles it would twitch; yet the dear
eyelids continued sealed.

Looking at shut eyelids when you love the eyes beneath, is more or less a
teazing mystery that draws down your mouth to kiss them. Their lashes
seem to answer