the new and thrice-dear rays
were illumining her dark-coloured solid beauty, I know not what touch of
man-like envy or hurt vanity led Wilfrid to observe that the woman's eyes
dwelt with a singular fulness and softness on Rinaldo. It was fulness and
softness void of fire, a true ox-eyed gaze, but human in the fall of the
eyelids; almost such as an early poet of the brush gave to the Virgin
carrying her Child, to become an everlasting reduplicated image of a
mother's strong beneficence of love. He called Rinaldo's attention to it
when the woman had gone. Rinaldo understood his meaning at once.

"It will have to be so, I fear," he said; "I have thought of it. But if I
lead her to disobey Barto, there is little hope for the poor soul." He
rose up straight, like one who would utter grace for meat. "Must we, O my
God, give a sacrifice at every step?"

With that he resumed his seat stiffly, and bent and murmured to himself.
Wilfrid had at one time of his life imagined that he was marked by a
peculiar distinction from the common herd; but contact with this young
man taught him to feel his fellowship to the world at large, and to
rejoice at it, though it partially humbled him.

They had no further visit from Barto Rizzo. The woman tended them in the
same unswerving silence, and at whiles that adorable maternity of aspect.
Wilfrid was touched by commiseration for her. He was too bitterly fretful
on account of clean linen and the liberty which fluttered the prospect of
it, to think much upon what her fate might be: perhaps a beating, perhaps
the knife. But the vileness of wearing one shirt two months and more had
hardened his heart; and though he was considerate enough not to prompt
his companion very impatiently, he submitted desperate futile schemes to
him, and suggested--"To-night?--tomorrow?--the next day?" Rinaldo did not
heed him. He lay on his couch like one who bleeds inwardly, thinking of
the complacent faithfulness of that poor creature's face. Barto Rizzo had
sworn to him that there should be a rising in Milan before the month was
out; but he had lost all confidence in Milanese risings. Ammiani would be
removed, if he delayed; and he knew that the moment his letter reached
Lugano, Angelo would start for Milan and claim to surrender in his stead.
The woman came, and went forth, and Rinaldo did not look at her until his
resolve was firm.

He said to Wilfrid in her presence, "Swear that you will reveal nothing
of this