returning to
the door in the wall just in time to catch Don Alberto as he came out.

Don Alberto's commands were law at all times in his father's palace, and
on the present occasion the wrath of the whole establishment was on his
side. Moreover, to strike the nephew of both Popes in the face and call
him a liar was an offence which would have sent the noblest patrician in
Rome to a dungeon in Sant' Angelo, if not to the galleys of Civita
Vecchia.

It was therefore not surprising that Stradella should find himself in
Tor di Nona within the hour, solidly chained to the wall in a dark cell;
and so he was left to reflect upon the consequences of his rashness,
though not to regret it, if indeed his gnawing anxiety for Ortensia left
him room to think of anything else.

CHAPTER XXII

When Trombin had dropped Don Alberto upon the ladder, to take the
chances of a bad fall, he looked down to see what happened, and being
satisfied that the courtier was not much hurt, he turned at once to
Ortensia; for if young Altieri had broken his neck, it might have been
necessary to hasten what was to take place next. As for anything the
courtier might do on the spur of the moment, Trombin knew that
Gambardella and Tommaso were in the vineyard, ready to stop any
mischief.

Ortensia was lying by the wall where she had fallen, but was regaining
consciousness, for her limbs stirred now and then, and as the Bravo
looked at her she opened her eyes and turned her head.

'Coward!' she said faintly, as what had happened began to dawn upon her
and the recollection of the furious struggle came back. 'Coward!' she
repeated, closing her eyes as Trombin dropped beside her on one knee.

'I have thrown him out of the window,' he said quietly.

She opened her eyes wide now, stared at him and recognised him, though
as in a dream. Then she tried to raise herself on her elbow, and
instantly he helped her; and feeling the strength of his arm, she got
upon her feet, though with more assistance from him than she knew. He
led her to a stiff little sofa at the other end of the room, picked up
Don Alberto's cloak, rolled it into a pillow for her, and made her lie
down. She had almost lost consciousness again with the effort of walking
so far.

He saw the deep scratch on her arm, from which a few drops of blood were
still slowly oozing, and he fetched a basin with cold water and a towel
from the bedroom, and bathed the slight wound, binding it up aft