could I
dream that my death was so desired!--how could I know that I had better
far have died than have returned to SUCH a home!"

Her lips moved, but she uttered no word; she shivered as though with
intense cold. I drew nearer to her.

"Perhaps you doubt my story?"

She made no answer. A rapid impulse of fury possessed me.

"Speak!" I cried, fiercely, "or by the God above us I will MAKE you!
Speak!" and I drew the dagger I carried from my vest. "Speak the truth
for once--'twill be difficult to you who love lies--but this time I
must be answered! Tell me, do you know me? DO you or do you NOT believe
that I am indeed your husband--your living husband, Fabio Romani?"

She gasped for breath. The sight of my infuriated figure--the glitter
of the naked steel before her eyes--the suddenness of my action, the
horror of her position, all terrified her into speech. She flung
herself down before me in an attitude of abject entreaty. She found her
voice at last.

"Mercy! mercy!" she cried. "Oh, God! you will not kill me?
Anything--anything but death; I am too young to die! Yes, yes; I know
you are Fabio--Fabio, my husband, Fabio, whom I thought
dead--Fabio--oh!" and she sobbed convulsively. "You said you loved me
to-day--when you married me! Why did you marry me? I was your wife
already--why--why? Oh, horrible, horrible! I see--I understand it all
now! But do not, do not kill me, Fabio--I am afraid to die!"

And she hid her face at my feet and groveled there. As quickly calmed
as I had been suddenly furious, I put back the dagger. I smoothed my
voice and spoke with mocking courtesy.

"Pray do not alarm yourself," I said, coolly. "I have not the slightest
intention of killing you! I am no vulgar murderer, yielding to mere
brute instincts. You forget: a Neapolitan has hot passions, but he also
has finesse, especially in matters of vengeance. I brought you here to
tell you of my existence, and to confront you with the proofs of it.
Rise, I beg of you, we have plenty of time to talk; with a little
patience I shall make things clear to you--rise!"

She obeyed me, lifting herself up reluctantly with a long, shuddering
sigh. As she stood upright I laughed contemptuously.

"What! no love words for me?" I cried, "not one kiss, not one smile,
not one word of welcome? You say you know me--well!--are you not glad
to see your husband?--you, who were such an inconsolable widow?"

A strange quiver passed over her face--she wrung he