en were moving down the hill in their furious
fight. The house was empty for a moment, Trombin had spoken of a back
door opening to the vineyard, and she saw her chance.

She ran downstairs, almost falling in her haste, and as she reached the
floor she stepped upon something that yielded with a chinking sound. It
was the purse containing the thousand crowns in ducats, and she thrust
it into her bosom without hesitation. A cool draught of air from under
the stairs guided her to the back entrance, which was not closed, as
Trombin had said it was, but wide open. She was out of doors in an
instant, and in the starlight she could just see a broad path that led
straight through the vineyard from the little house. She gathered up
her silk skirts with both hands, and ran for her life.

Almost at the same moment Gambardella, who was the lighter man, threw
Trombin heavily on his back in the dust, and at once proceeded to kneel
on his chest.

CHAPTER XXIII

At sunrise Ortensia wearily climbed the steep ascent that led up to the
Quirinal Palace, leaning on Cucurullo's arm, and wearing his short brown
cloak to cover her dress as much as possible. A few words will be enough
to explain what had happened in the night. After waiting two hours and
more at Santa Prassede with the things he had brought, Cucurullo had
come back to the Palazzo Altieri, suspecting an accident, or at least a
misunderstanding. It was not till he had knocked again and again that
the porter had opened the little postern in the great wooden gate, and
seeing who was there had hastily explained that Stradella was in prison
for having struck Don Alberto on the nose, at the foot of the grand
staircase, and that, after this, he, Gaetano the porter, had not the
courage to admit any one belonging to the musician's household. He was
very sorry, and said so, being much afraid of the Evil Eye if the
hunchback should be angry; but he was even more afraid of Don Alberto.
Cucurullo, who had been prepared for trouble, bowed his head, and said
he would wait outside till morning. Gaetano offered, as a great favour,
to take the things he carried and hide them in his lodge, a kindness
which Cucurullo readily accepted.

As for Ortensia, she did not know where she had been, and it was not
till she had wandered for hours in the desolate regions between Santa
Maria in Cosmedin, San Gregorio, and the Colosseum, that she at last
struck into the Campo Vaccino, which was the o