ious day's feast;
then, singing still, they had started on their homeward downward way,
happy and not half tired yet when they reached Subiaco in the evening
glow.

They came trooping through the town to the little piazza in which the
doctor's house was situated. They separated here, some to go up to the
higher part, while others were to go down in the same direction as
Annetta. The girl looked up at the doctor's windows, and her small eyes
flashed viciously. It would be a pleasant ending to the two days'
holiday to have a look at her work. Now that he was getting well, as
Dalrymple told her, she was glad that she had not killed him. It was an
even greater satisfaction to have almost frightened the old coward to
death. She had been uneasy about the question of confession.

"By Bacchus," she laughed, "I will go and see Sor Tommaso. They say he
is better."

So she took leave of her companions and entered the narrow door, and
climbed the short flight of dark steps and knocked. The doctor's
sleeping-room opened directly upon the staircase. He used the room on
the ground floor as an office and dining-room, his old peasant
woman-servant slept in the attic, and the other two rooms were let by
the year. It was a very small house.

The old woman, whose name was Serafina, opened the bedroom door and
thrust out her head, covered with a dark and threadbare shawl. There was
a sibylline gloom about her withered face, as though she had lived a
lifetime in the face of a horror to come.

"What do you want?" she croaked roughly, and not opening the door any
wider.

"Eh! What do I want? I am the Annetta of Stefanone, and I have come to
pay a visit to this dear doctor, because they say that he is better, God
bless him."

"Oh! I did not recognize you," said the old woman. "I will ask."

Still holding the door almost closed, she drew in her head and spoke
with Sor Tommaso. Annetta could hear his answer.

"Of course!" he said, in a voice still weak, but singularly oily with
the politeness of his intention. "Let her favour us!"

The door was opened, and Annetta went in. Sor Tommaso was sitting up
near the window, in a deep easy-chair covered with ragged green damask.
The girl was surprised by his pallor, as compared with his formerly
rubicund complexion. Peasant-like, she glanced about the room to judge
of its contents before she spoke.

"How are you, dear Sor Tommaso?" she asked after the short pause. "Eh,
what we have suffered