ned chambers of the palace.

"Where has the Signora gone?" Gaspare repeated, in a whisper.

"I will find the Signora," said Artois.

He got up. Gaspare held his arm to assist him to the shore.

"Thank you."

He was on the rocks.

"Gaspare," he said, "wait here. Lie off the shore close by till I come
back."

"Si, Signore."

Artois hesitated, looking at Gaspare.

"I will persuade the Signora to come back with us," he said.

"Si, Signore. You must persuade the poor Signora. The poor Signora is
mad to-night. She gave me a look--" His eyes clouded with moisture. "If
the poor Signora had not been mad she could not have looked at me like
that--at another, perhaps, but not at me."

It seemed as if at last his long reserve was breaking down. He put up
his hand to his eyes.

"I did not think that my Padrona--"

He stopped. Artois remembered the face at the window. He grasped
Gaspare's hand.

"The Signora does not understand," he said. "I will make the Signora
understand."

"Si, Signore, you must make the poor Signora understand."

Gaspare's hand held on to the hand of Artois, and in that clasp the
immense reserve, that for so many years had divided, and united, these
two men, seemed to melt like gold in a crucible of fire.

"I will make the Signora understand."

"And I will wait, Signore."

He pushed the boat off from the rocks. It floated away, with its
sister boat, on the calm sea that kissed the palace walls. He gave his
Padrona's fate into the hands of Artois. It was a tribute which had upon
Artois a startling effect.

It was like a great resignation which conferred a great responsibility.

Always Gaspare had been very jealous, very proud of his position of
authority as the confidential servant and protector of Hermione.
And now, suddenly, and very simply, he seemed to acknowledge his
helplessness with Hermione--to rely implicitly upon the power of Artois.

Vere, too, in her way had performed a kindred action. She had summoned
"Monsieur Emile" in her great trouble. She had put herself in his hands.
And he--he had striven to delegate to others the burden he was meant to
bear. He had sent Vere to Hermione. He had sent Gaspare to her. He
had even sent Ruffo to her. Now he must go himself. Vere, Gaspare,
Ruffo--they were all looking to him. But Gaspare's eyes were most
expressive, held more of demand for him than the eyes of the girl and
boy. For the past was gathered in Gaspare, spoke to him in Gaspa