uld have appeared at the slightest sound.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, with a little smile. "What time is
it?" She looked at the watch, holding it up to the flame of the candle.
"Three o'clock! What is the matter, Elettra? Why have you come?"

Elettra looked down, in real or pretended confusion.

"Excellency," she said in a humble tone, "my room is very cold and damp
in this rainy weather. For some nights I have slept on the sofa in the
dressing-room. I hope your Excellency will pardon me. And I heard you
cry out, just now. Then, forgetting that I ought not to have been
sleeping there, I got up and came."

"Oh! Did I cry out? Yes--I woke up suddenly. I was dreaming of Don
Teodoro and of--" She checked herself. "Why did you not tell me that
your room is damp? You shall have another."

"Excellency, if you will forgive me, it would give trouble at this time.
If you will allow me to sleep on the sofa until the weather is fine
again. I will make no noise. You have seen--in the morning no one would
know it, and I am very well there."

Veronica looked at her and hesitated a moment. In the stillness she
heard a soft sound.

"What is that?" she asked quickly.

"It is the cat," answered the maid, peering down below the level of the
candle-light.

"It did not sound like the cat," said Veronica, pushing her dark, brown
hair back with her slim hand, and looking down over the edge of the bed.
"It was more like a footstep," she added, with a little laugh.

But at that moment she caught sight of the Maltese cat's green eyes in
shadow. The creature came forward from the door, sprang instantly upon
the foot of the bed and lay down, purring, its forepaws doubled under
it, and its eyes shut.

"It is a heavy cat," said Elettra, thoughtfully. "It is so fat. One can
hear it when it walks across the room."

She scratched its head gently, and it purred more loudly under her hand.

"Excellency, you will allow me to sleep in the dressing-room, just for
these days," she said presently.

"Oh yes--if you like," answered Veronica, laying her head down upon the
pillow, sleepy again.

The maid bent over her and drew the things up about her neck in a
half-tender, motherly way, looking at the girl's face. Then she
hesitated before putting out the light.

"Excellency," she said, "let us go to Muro. The air of this house is not
good for you. It is damp, and you are pale in these days. In the
mountains the colour will come back