hich she lived. The path went round it, and beyond was the
little irrigation canal one of those small artificial water courses,
deep and full-volumed, which carry the snow water of the Cadore to
the farms of the plain. The dregs of the sunset yet faintly stained
its surface like the lees of wine in water.

"Signorina," began Jovannic. He was not sure f what he wished to say
to her. She paused in her slow walk to hear him. "Signorina," he
began again, "after all, in war, a blow, you know, and I have never
struck one of them never! I don't want you to think of me as, as just
a brute."

"No," she said. "And it is because you ordered Luigi to be untied
that I have warned you of your danger."

"Oh!" Jovannic sighed. "I don't think I really understand yet; but
you have managed to make it all." He made a vague gesture towards the
village and the tree-thronged land. "Well, gruesome! Every man in the
place, apparently."

"And every woman," she put in quickly. "Never forget, Signor Tenente,
it was the women who began it."

"The women began it?"

"Yes," she answered. "The women! You hadn't heard no, it was before
you came of the girl here, in this house of my mother's, who was
among the first? No? Listen, Signor Tenente."

"Yes," he said. It was in his mind that he was about to hear the
stalest story of all, but it was strange that he should hear it from
her.

"I am proud to tell it," she said, as though she answered his
thought. "Proud! A little Friulana of these parts, a housemaid, we
had masses for her till you took our priest away. One of your
officers used to, to persecute her. Oh!" she cried, "why am I afraid
even to name what she had to endure? He was always trying to get into
her bedroom; you understand? And one day he caught hold of her so
that she had to tear herself loose from him. She got free and stood
there and smiled at him. She knew what she had to do then."

"I know, I know," half whispered Jovannic. "In the village today I
saw them smile."

"He did not catch hold of her again; he misread that smile, and said
that he would come that night. 'What hour?' she asked, and he
answered that he would come at midnight. She put her hand to her
bosom and drew out the little crucifix they wear on a string. 'Swear
on this that you will come to me at midnight,' she said, and he took
it in his hand and swore. Then it was evening she came out here, to
where the canal runs under the road. And there she drowned hersel