years I have known
him--and never have I seen him as he was to-day."

"And the Signora? When she came, did she look tired?"

"Signore, the Signora's face was like the face of one who has been
looked on by the evil eye."

"Row quickly, Giovanni!"

"Si, Signore."

The men talked no more.

When they came in sight of the island the last rays of the sun were
striking upon the windows of the Casa del Mare.

The boat, urged by Giovanni's powerful arms, drew rapidly near to the
land, and Artois, leaning forward with an instinct to help the rower,
fixed his eyes upon these windows which, like swift jewels, focussed and
gave back the light. While he watched them the sun sank. Its radiance
was withdrawn. He saw no longer jewels, casements of magic, but only the
windows of the familiar house; and then, presently, only the window
of one room, Hermione's. His eyes were fixed on that as the boat drew
nearer and nearer--were almost hypnotized by that. Where was Hermione?
What was she doing? How was she? How could she be, now that--she knew?
A terrible but immensely tender, immensely pitiful curiosity took
possession of him, held him fast, body and soul. She knew, and she was
in that house!

The boat was close in now, but had not yet turned into the Pool of
San Francesco. Artois kept his eyes upon the window for still a moment
longer. He felt now, he knew, that Hermione was in the room beyond that
window. As he gazed up from the sea he saw that the window was open. He
saw behind the frame of it a white curtain stirring in the breeze. And
then he saw something that chilled his blood, that seemed to drive it in
an icy stream back to his heart, leaving his body for a moment numb.

He saw a figure come, with a wild, falling movement to the window--a
white, distorted face utterly strange to him looked out--a hand lifted
in a frantic gesture.

The gesture was followed by a crash.

The green Venetian blind had fallen, hiding the window, hiding the
stranger's face.

"Who was that at the window, Signore?" asked Giovanni, staring at Artois
with round and startled eyes.

And Artois answered: "It is difficult to see, Giovanni, now that the sun
has gone down. It is getting dark so quickly."

"Si, Signore, it is getting dark."

CHAPTER XXXIX

There was no one at the foot of the cliff. Artois got out of the boat
and stood for a moment, hesitating whether to keep Giovanni or to
dismiss him.

"I can stay, Signore," said the