place, and be found dead in the
morning. It is certain death to me in either case. It would be
absolutely impossible for me to get rid of the dead body without
arousing suspicion. If it is wrong to save oneself by burning a dead
body, it is not a great wrong, and I take it upon myself. It is the only
wrong in the matter, unless it is wrong to love you and to be willing to
die for you. Do you understand me?"

Leaning back against the door of the parlour, Maria Addolorata had
almost unconsciously lifted her veil and was gazing into his eyes. The
plan was horrible, but she could not help admiring the man's strength
and daring. In his voice, even when he told her that he loved her, there
was that quiet courage which imposes itself upon men and women alike.
The whole situation was as clear as day to her in a moment, for all his
calculations were absolutely correct,--the fire-proof vault of the cell,
the certainty that the body would be taken for hers, above all, the
assurance of her own supposed death, with the utter freedom from
suspicion which it would mean for her ever afterwards. Was she not to be
buried with Christian burial, mourned as dead, and freed in one hour
from all the consequences of her life? It was masterly, though there was
a horror in it.

She loved him more than her own soul. It was the fear of bringing shame
upon her father and mother that had held her, far more than any
spiritual dread. It was not strange that she should waver again when he
had unfolded his scheme.

She turned, opened the door, and led him into the parlour, where the
silver lamp was burning brightly.

"You must tell it all again," she said, still standing. "I must be quite
sure that I understand."

He knew well enough that she had finally yielded, since she went so far.
In his mind he quickly ran over the details of the plan once more, and
mentally settled what still remained to be decided. But since she wished
it, he went over all he had said already. Being able to speak in his
natural voice without fear of being overheard by the portress, and
feeling sure of the result, he spoke far more easily and more
eloquently. Before he had finished he was holding her hand in his, and
she was gazing intently into his eyes.

"It is life or death for me," he said, when he had told her everything.
"Which shall it be?"

She was silent for a moment. Then her strong mouth smiled strangely.

"It shall be life for you, if I lose my soul for it,"