lence, he took that oath, then yielded to
Benedetta's entreaties. And as he apologised for being a source of
embarrassment in the house she exclaimed: "No, no, I am delighted to have
you here. I fancy that your presence will bring us good fortune now that
luck seems to be changing in our favour."

It was then agreed that he would no longer prowl around St. Peter's and
the Vatican, where his constant presence must have attracted attention.
He even promised that he would virtually spend a week indoors, desirous
as he was of reperusing certain books, certain pages of Rome's history.
Then he went on chatting for a moment, lulled by the peacefulness which
reigned around him, since the lamp had illumined the _salon_ with its
sleepy radiance. Six o'clock had just struck, and outside all was dark.

"Wasn't his Eminence indisposed to-day?" the young man asked.

"Yes," replied the Contessina. "But we are not anxious: it is only a
little fatigue. He sent Don Vigilio to tell me that he intended to shut
himself up in his room and dictate some letters. So there can be nothing
much the matter, you see."

Silence fell again. For a while not a sound came from the deserted street
or the old empty mansion, mute and dreamy like a tomb. But all at once
the soft somnolence, instinct with all the sweetness of a dream of hope,
was disturbed by a tempestuous entry, a whirl of skirts, a gasp of
terror. It was Victorine, who had gone off after bringing the lamp, but
now returned, scared and breathless: "Contessina! Contessina!"

Benedetta had risen, suddenly quite white and cold, as at the advent of a
blast of misfortune. "What, what is it? Why do you run and tremble?" she
asked.

"Dario, Monsieur Dario--down below. I went down to see if the lantern in
the porch were alight, as it is so often forgotten. And in the dark, in
the porch, I stumbled against Monsieur Dario. He is on the ground; he has
a knife-thrust somewhere."

A cry leapt from the _amorosa's_ heart: "Dead!"

"No, no, wounded."

But Benedetta did not hear; in a louder and louder voice she cried:
"Dead! dead!"

"No, no, I tell you, he spoke to me. And for Heaven's sake, be quiet. He
silenced me because he did not want any one to know; he told me to come
and fetch you--only you. However, as Monsieur l'Abbe is here, he had
better help us. We shall be none too many."

Pierre listened, also quite aghast. And when Victorine wished to take the
lamp her trembling hand, with which