ples and remorse for the
unfortunate step he had taken. Not knowing whether to go or to remain,
whether the lady would or would not return, whether it would or would
not be indiscreet to go in search of her, after having looked out
towards the lake as if seeking advice from the fishes, towards the hills
to see if she or some one of whom he could inquire about her happened to
be at one of the windows, he finally went to watch the game.

Each one of the players kept his eyes fixed on the four cards he held in
his left hand, placed one upon the other in such a way that the second
and third projected above the others just enough to be recognisable,
while the fourth remained carefully hidden.

The Professor reflected that he also held a secret card, a trump, and he
was undecided whether to play it or not. He held old Maironi's will. A
few days after Signora Teresa's death, Franco had told him to destroy
it, and never breathe a word about it to Luisa. He had obeyed only so
far as keeping silence was concerned. The document still existed, though
of this Franco was ignorant, because its custodian had determined to
await the development of events, to see if Cressogno and Oria would come
to terms, or if, in consequence of prolonged hostilities, Franco and
his family would be reduced to want, in which case he himself intended
to do something. What he should do, he did not really know. He was
nurturing the germs of several foolish plans in his head, and trusted
that one or other of them would have ripened before the time for action
arrived. Now, as he watched Franco play, he wondered how that man, so
engrossed in his desire to win a pasteboard king, could ever have
refused that other precious card, not even wishing to inform his wife of
its existence. He attributed this silence to modesty, to a desire to
hide a generous action, and although he had suffered more than one sharp
rebuff from him, and felt that Franco esteemed him lightly, still he
looked upon him with a respect full of humble devotion.

"Give me the cards! Give me the cards!" the priest exclaimed, and he
shuffled them eagerly. Then the game, symbol of the universal struggle
between the blacks and the reds, began once more.

* * * * *

The lake now lay sleeping, covered and encircled by shadows. Only on the
east the great, distant mountains of the Lario were still in a glory of
purple and rich, yellow gold. The first breath of the even