door, which is open. Before you go in, you will hand me the money,
and I will leave you, after giving you a light. We had better make no
noise, lest she should come downstairs.'

'Very well. Take me to the ladder.'

Tommaso now struck through the vines, skirting the angle of the house at
some distance, till he came to the straight walk that led to the back
door. Don Alberto was used to night adventures, and saw the ladder
distinctly before he came to it. When they had reached it, walking on
tip-toe, Tommaso planted his foot firmly against the foot of it, so as
to hold it steady, and he pointed to a little ray of light that shone
out through the hole in the shutter. Don Alberto nodded and went up very
cautiously. It was one of those long ladders used by Italian
vine-dressers and had heavy rungs very far apart. Tommaso had wound rags
round the tops of the side pieces, so that they should make no noise
against the wall. Don Alberto stopped when his head was on a level with
the ray of light, and applying his eye to the hole he saw the beautiful
Venetian sitting motionless by the table. Having satisfied himself that
she was within and alone, he lost no time in coming down, and the rest
happened as Tommaso had explained that it should, except that it did not
prove necessary to strike a light; for the back door opened under the
stairs, in the small vestibule, and the door above being open, the lamp
in the sitting-room sent down a glimmer from above that was quite enough
to show the way.

At the first sound of steps below Ortensia started to her feet,
understanding instantly that some one had entered the house by stealth,
since she herself had put up the chain at the front door.

For one fatal moment she hesitated and stood motionless. Then, as the
footsteps mounted the little staircase at a run, she sprang to shut the
door; but it was too late, for Don Alberto was already on the threshold.
He caught her with one arm and almost lifted her back into the room,
while with the other hand he slammed the door, turned the key, and
thrust it into his pocket.

She was struggling wildly in his arms then, but he laughed, as ruthless
children do when they have caught a little bird and can torment it at
their will.

'Softly, softly!' he cried. 'You will hurt yourself, my sweet! There,
there! You have scratched your pretty arm already!'

It was true. She had cut her arm against one of the chiselled buttons of
his coat, just above th