rriage his anger against me would be even greater."

"Ah--it was that you wrote for?" cried Tony with unaccountable relief.

"Of course--what else did you think?"

"But is it too late for the Ambassador to save you?"

"From YOU?" A smile flashed through her tears. "Alas, yes." She drew
back and hid her face again, as though overcome by a fresh wave of
shame.

Tony glanced about him. "If I could wrench a bar out of that window--"
he muttered.

"Impossible! The court is guarded. You are a prisoner, alas.--Oh, I must
speak!" She sprang up and paced the room. "But indeed you can scarce
think worse of me than you do already--"

"I think ill of you?"

"Alas, you must! To be unwilling to marry the man my father has chosen
for me--"

"Such a beetle-browed lout! It would be a burning shame if you married
him."

"Ah, you come from a free country. Here a girl is allowed no choice."

"It is infamous, I say--infamous!"

"No, no--I ought to have resigned myself, like so many others."

"Resigned yourself to that brute! Impossible!"

"He has a dreadful name for violence--his gondolier has told my little
maid such tales of him! But why do I talk of myself, when it is of you I
should be thinking?"

"Of me, poor child?" cried Tony, losing his head.

"Yes, and how to save you--for I CAN save you! But every moment
counts--and yet what I have to say is so dreadful."

"Nothing from your lips could seem dreadful."

"Ah, if he had had your way of speaking!"

"Well, now at least you are free of him," said Tony, a little wildly;
but at this she stood up and bent a grave look on him.

"No, I am not free," she said; "but you are, if you will do as I tell
you."

Tony, at this, felt a sudden dizziness; as though, from a mad flight
through clouds and darkness, he had dropped to safety again, and the
fall had stunned him.

"What am I to do?" he said.

"Look away from me, or I can never tell you."

He thought at first that this was a jest, but her eyes commanded him,
and reluctantly he walked away and leaned in the embrasure of the
window. She stood in the middle of the room, and as soon as his back
was turned she began to speak in a quick monotonous voice, as though she
were reciting a lesson.

"You must know that the Marquess Zanipolo, though a great noble, is
not a rich man. True, he has large estates, but he is a desperate
spendthrift and gambler, and would sell his soul for a round sum of
ready money.--If you turn