their sake, but it was my privilege to show that I had said no
more than I meant. I thought also how nobly I would seem to have
acted if ever the story came to be told, and how proud the regiment of
Conflans might well be of their colonel. These thoughts helped me
to suffer in silence while the blood still trickled over my neck and
dripped upon the stone floor. It was that sound which nearly led to my
destruction.

"She's bleeding fast," said one of the valets. "You had best fetch a
surgeon or you will find her dead in the morning."

"She lies very still and she has never opened her mouth," said another.
"The shock has killed her."

"Nonsense; a young woman does not die so easily." It was Matteo who
spoke. "Besides, I did but snip off enough to leave the tribunal's mark
upon her. Rouse up, signora, rouse up!"

He shook me by the shoulder, and my heart stood still for fear he should
feel the epaulet under the mantle.

"How is it with you now?" he asked.

I made no answer.

"Curse it, I wish I had to do with a man instead of a woman, and the
fairest woman in Venice," said the gondolier. "Here, Nicholas, lend me
your handkerchief and bring a light."

It was all over. The worst had happened. Nothing could save me. I still
crouched in the corner, but I was tense in every muscle, like a wild cat
about to spring.

If I had to die I was determined that my end should be worthy of my
life.

One of them had gone for a lamp and Matteo was stooping over me with a
handkerchief. In another instant my secret would be discovered. But he
suddenly drew himself straight and stood motionless. At the same instant
there came a confused murmuring sound through the little window far
above my head. It was the rattle of oars and the buzz of many voices.
Then there was a crash upon the door upstairs, and a terrible voice
roared: "Open! Open in the name of the Emperor!"

The Emperor! It was like the mention of some saint which, by its very
sound, can frighten the demons.

Away they ran with cries of terror--Matteo, the valets, the steward, all
of the murderous gang. Another shout and then the crash of a hatchet and
the splintering of planks. There were the rattle of arms and the cries
of French soldiers in the hall. Next instant feet came flying down the
stair and a man burst frantically into my cell.

"Lucia!" he cried, "Lucia!" He stood in the dim light, panting and
unable to find his words. Then he broke out again. "Have I not