ed the Prince as he leant across the man to pull at
her sleeve. "I must see you," he said urgently. "When? Where?"

"When you like," she answered, but her eyes were startled as they met
his. "No. 27 Borgo San Jacopo. The only door on the sixth landing."

"Very well. To-night, then, and in an hour's time."

The press of incoming masqueraders screened them. The _carabiniere_
knew the Prince by sight, and he listened with all his might, but they
spoke English, and he dared not turn to stare at the girl until the
tall figure in the red _lucco_ had passed up the steps and gone in
again, and by that time she had slipped away out of sight.

Filippo came to the Borgo a little before midnight and crossed the
dingy threshold of No. 27 as the bells of the churches rang out the
hour. The old street was quiet enough now but for the wailing of some
strayed and starving cats that crept about the shadowed courts and
under the crumbling archways, and the departing cab woke strange
echoes as it rattled away over the cobble stones.

The only door on the sixth landing was open.

"What are you doing here?" Filippo said, wonderingly, as he groped his
way in. The room was in utter darkness but for one ray of moonlight
athwart it and the faint light of the stars, by which he saw Olive
leaning against the sill of one of the unshuttered windows, and
looking, as it seemed, towards him.

"Come in," she said. "You need not be afraid of falling over the
furniture. There is not much."

"You seem partial to bare attics."

"Ah! you are thinking of my room in the Vicolo dei Moribondi."

"Yes!" he said as he came towards her from the door. "I cannot rest, I
cannot forget. For God's sake tell me about the end! I have been to
Siena since I heard, but I dared not ask too many questions. Was
she--did she suffer very much before she died? Answer me quickly."

"Throw back your hood," she said. "Let me see your face."

Impatiently he thrust the folds of white and scarlet away and stood
bare-headed. She saw that his strong lips quivered and that his eyes
were contracted with pain.

"No, she died instantly. They said at the inquest that it must have
been so."

"Her face--was she--" his voice broke.

"I did not see it. It was covered by a handkerchief," she said gently.
"Don't! Don't! I did not think you would suffer so much."

"I suffer horribly day and night. Love is the scourge of the world in
the hands of the devil. That is certain. She is b