need speech here," said Daphne, pulling aside the curtains
of her tapestried bed a little later. "The Italians can infer all you
mean from a single smile."

Down the road a peasant was merrily beating his donkey to the measure
of the tune on his lips. Listening, and turning over many questions in
her mind, Daphne fell asleep. A flood of sunshine awakened her in the
morning, and she realized that Assunta was drawing the window curtains.

"Assunta," asked the girl, sitting up in bed and rubbing her eyes, "are
there many Americans here?"

"Si," answered Assunta, "very many."

"And many English?"

"Too many," said Assunta.

"Young ones?" asked the girl.

Assunta shrugged her shoulders.

"Young men?" inquired Daphne.

The peasant woman looked sharply at her, then smiled.

"I saw one man yesterday," said Daphne, her forehead puckered painfully
in what Assunta mistook for a look of fear. Her carefully prepared
phrases could get no nearer the problem she wished solved.

"Ma che! agnellina mia, my little lamb!" cried the peasant woman,
grasping Daphne's hand in order to kiss her fingers, "you are safe,
safe with us. No Americans nor English shall dare to look at the
Signorina in the presence of Giacomo and me."

CHAPTER IV

It was not a high wall, that is, not very high. Many a time in the
country Daphne had climbed more formidable ones, and there was no
reason why she should not try this. No one was in sight except a
shepherd, watching a great flock of sheep. There was a forgotten rose
garden over in that field; had Caesar planted it, or Tiberius,
centuries ago? Certainly no one had tended it for a thousand years or
two, and the late pink roses grew unchecked. Daphne slowly worked her
way to the top of the wall; this close masonry made the proceeding more
difficult than it usually was at home. She stood for a moment on the
summit, glorying in the widened view, then sprang, with the lightness
of a kitten, to the other side. There was a skurry of frightened
sheep, and then a silence.

She knew that she was sitting on the grass, and that her left wrist
pained. Some one was coming toward her.

"Are you hurt?" asked Apollo anxiously.

"Not at all," she answered, continuing to sit on the grass.

"If you were hurt, where would it be?"

"In my wrist," said the girl, with a little groan.

The questioner kneeled beside her, and Daphne gave a start of surprise
that was touched with fear.

"It is