e ever should? Such miracles have
been done by men themselves without the help of the saints, before now."

Ruggiero looked up sharply and he felt his hands shaking. He thought she
was speaking of what had just happened, of which he had been a witness.

"Such miracles as that may happen--but they are the devil's miracles."

Beatrice was silent for a moment. She was indeed inclined to believe in
a special intervention of the powers of evil in her own case. Had she
not been suddenly moved to tell a man that she loved him, only to
discover a moment later that it was a mistake?

"What is the miracle you pray for, Ruggiero?" she asked after a pause.

"To be changed into some one else, Excellency."

"And then--would she love you?"

"By Our Lady's grace--perhaps!" The deep voice shook again. He set his
teeth, folded his arms over his throbbing breast, and planted one foot
firmly on a stone before him, as though to await a blow.

"I am very sorry for you, Ruggiero," said Beatrice in soft, kind tones.

"God render you your kindness--it is better than nothing," he answered.

"Is she sorry for you, too? She should be--you love her so much."

"Yes--she is sorry for me. She has just said so." He raised his clenched
hand to his mouth almost before the words were uttered. Beatrice did not
see the few bright red drops that fell upon the rock as he gnawed the
flesh.

"Just said so?" she said, repeating his words. "I do not understand? Is
she here to-night?"

He did not answer, but slowly bent his head, as though in assent. An odd
foreboding of danger shot through the young girl's heart. Little as the
man said, he seemed desperate. It was possible that the girl he loved
might be a Capriote, and that he might have met her and talked with her
while the dinner was going on. He might have strangled her with those
great hands of his. She would not have uttered a cry, and no one would
be the wiser, for Tragara is a lonely place, by day and night.

"She is here, you say?" Beatrice asked again. "Where is she? Ruggiero,
what is the matter? Have you done her any harm? Have you hurt her? Have
you killed her?"

"Not yet---"

"Not yet!" Beatrice cried, in a low horror-struck tone. She had heard
his sharp, agonised breathing as he reeled unsteadily against the rock
behind him. She was a rarely courageous girl. Instead of shrinking she
made a step forward and took him firmly by the arm.

"What have you done, Ruggiero?" she asked ster