t along through the calm sea.

"Keep near the shore, Gaspare!"

"Si, Signore."

Only the first quarter of the young moon was visible in the sky. It
cast but a thin and distant glint of silver upon the waters. By the near
shore the dimness of this hour was unbroken by any light, unstirred by
any sound except the withdrawn and surreptitious murmur of the sea. The
humped shapes of the low yellow rocks showed themselves faintly like
shapes of beasts asleep. In the distance, lifted above the sea, two or
three flames shone faintly. They were shed by lamps or candles set in
the windows of the fishermen's cottages in the village.

Had Hermione gone to the village?

She might have left the island with some definite purpose, or moved by a
blind impulse to get away, and be alone. Artois could not tell. But she
had taken the _fattura della morte_.

He wondered whether she knew its meaning, with what sinister intention
it had been made. Something in the little worthless thing must have
attracted her, have fascinated her, or she would not have taken it.
In her distress of mind, in her desire for solitude, she would have
hastened away and left it lying where it was.

Perhaps she had a purpose in leaving the island with the _fattura della
morte_.

Her taking of it began to seem to Artois, as it had evidently seemed to
Gaspare, a fact of profound significance. His imagination, working with
an almost diseased rapidity and excitement, brought before him a series
of scenes in which the death-charm figured as symbol. In one of these
there were two women--Hermione and Maddalena.

Hermione might have set out on some wild quest to Mergellina. He
remembered the face at the window, and knew that to-night everything was
possible.

"Row quickly, Gaspare!"

Gaspare bent almost furiously to the oars. Then sharply he turned his
head.

"What is it?"

"I can see the boat! I can see the Signora!"

The words struggled out on a long breath that made his broad chest
heave. Instinctively Artois put his hands on the gunwale of the boat on
either side of him, moving as if to stand up.

"Take care, Signore!"

"I'd forgotten--" He leaned forward, searching the night. "Where is the
Signora?"

"There--in front! She is rowing to the village. No, she has turned."

He stopped rowing.

"The Signora has seen, or she has heard, and she is going in to shore."

"But there are only the rocks."

"The Signora is going in to the Palazzo of the Sp