was waiting, and
Giovanni put Nina in. "Wait here a moment--I will go up and tell
Eleanor."

Nina was shaking from head to foot. "No--no--don't leave me; take me
away!"

"It is not seemly to drive with you, Mademoiselle; I will return in a
moment."

But by this time Nina was hysterical. "No--no--please take me home,"
she begged. "The carriage can come back." And she began to sob.

Giovanni hesitated, then jumped in quickly, telling the coachman to
drive home as fast as possible.

"It must have been a frightful experience," he said, as they started.
"Thank God I came even when I did."

A shudder ran through Nina. Instinctively she drew away from Giovanni,
merely because he was a foreigner, and of the same race as Scorpa. She
could still see those thick, loathsome lips approaching her own, and the
recollection gave her a nauseating sense of pollution. Holding her hands
over her face, she sobbed and sobbed.

Giovanni let her cry it out. It was not a moment to play on her
feelings--they were too strained to stand any other emotion. Yet had he
considered nothing but his own advantage, he could not better have used
his opportunity than by doing exactly what he did.

"Listen, Mademoiselle"--his voice was soothing--as kind and
unimpassioned as though he were talking to a troubled little child.
"Promise me that you will try not to think about this afternoon. It will
do no good. Try to forget it, if you can. That man shall never again in
any way enter your life. At least I can promise you that! Here we are!
Now," he added in English, as the footman opened the door, "go upstairs
and lie down. I will go back immediately and tell Eleanor that you felt
suddenly ill and that the carriage took you home. It is not likely that
Scorpa has given any version of the affair."

But a new fear assailed Nina. "You cannot go back! The duke will kill
you! He would do anything, that man!"

There was pride in Giovanni's easy answer. "He is not very agile," he
laughed; "to stab he would have first to reach me!" Then seriously and
very gently he added, "You are overstrung and nervous, Mademoiselle. On
my honor I promise you need never fear him again."

"What do you mean by that?" Startled, she put the question.

"Nothing," he rejoined lightly, "only that a man never repeats a
performance like that of the duke. The Italian custom prevents!" he
added, with a curious expression of whimsicality over which Nina puzzled
as she mounted the s