tage.

"No, dear," answered Maddalena. "Something has happened, I wish I knew
what!"

"I only told him he was a baby," said Aurora, settling herself in the
corner of the carriage, and arranging her parasol behind her so that it
rested on the open hood; for the weather had cleared and the sun was
shining brightly after the storm.

So she and her mother went back to Rome that afternoon. But when the
Signora was alone, she was sorry that her friend was gone, and was all
at once aware that her head was aching terribly. Every movement she made
sent an agonizing thrill through her brain, and her hand trembled from
the pain, as she pressed her palm to her forehead.

She meant to go down to the beach alone, for she was sure that she could
find Marcello, and at least she would meet the men who were searching
for him, and have news sooner than if she stayed in the cottage. But she
could not have walked fifty steps without fainting while her headache
lasted. She would take five grains of phenacetine, and in a little while
she would be better.

She found the glass tube with the screw cap, and swallowed one of the
tablets with a little water. Then she sat down on the edge of her long
chair in the verandah to wait for the pain to pass. She was very tired,
and presently, she scarcely knew how it was, she was lying at full
length in her chair, her head resting comfortably against the cushion.

The sunlight fell slanting across her feet. Amongst the trees two or
three birds were twittering softly; it was warm, it was dreamy, she was
forgetting Marcello. She tried to rouse herself as the thought of him
crossed her mind, and she fancied that she almost rose from the chair;
but she had hardly lifted one hand. Then she saw his face close before
her, her lips relaxed, the pain was gone, she smiled happily, and she
was asleep.

Half an hour later her maid came quietly out to ask whether she needed
anything, and seeing that she was sleeping peacefully spread a light
shawl over her feet, placed the silver handbell within easy reach on the
table, and went away again.

Towards evening Folco came back and then the men, straggling in on their
tired little horses, for they had ridden far and fast. Marcello was not
with them.

Corbario came in alone, and saw his wife lying in her chair in the
evening light. He stood still a moment, and then came over and bent near
her, looking earnestly into her quiet face.

"Already," he said aloud, but