y before me," answered Matilde,
with a bitter sigh, as she raised her face from her hands and moved
away from the fireplace, not looking at him.

"That is the reason why Pulcinella's wife disappeared so suddenly," he
replied. "You see, there are two pieces which the marionettes act. In
the one which begins with the quarrel--"

"I tell you it is of no use to do that!" cried Matilde, angrily, and
beginning to walk up and down the room, still keeping her eyes from the
face she hated.

"How nervous you are!" he exclaimed, with irritation. "I was only trying
to explain--"

"Oh, I know! I know! Keep this acting for the doctors! You will drive me
really mad!"

"The doctors?" He stared at her and smiled childishly. "Oh no!" he
exclaimed. "The doctor is in the other piece--I was going to explain--"

She turned with a fierce exclamation upon him and grasped his arm,
shaking him savagely, as though to rouse him. To her horror, he burst
into tears.

"You hurt!" he whined. "You hurt me! Oh, poor little Gregorio!"

He was really mad, and there was no more acting for him, as the tears
streamed down his vacant face, which no longer twitched at all.

His mind had broken down under Veronica's relentless accusation and
threat of vengeance.

The miserable woman's strength was all but gone, when she sat down,
alone in the room with her mad husband, and once more buried her face in
her hands.

He whined and cried a little while to himself, and rubbed his arm where
she had taken hold so roughly; but presently his tears dried again, and
he leaned over the end of the couch on his elbow, and above her bowed,
veiled head he crooked his fingers at each other, and made his hands nod
and bob to each other, like little dolls, laughing gently, with a
chuckle now and then, at the funny things he heard Pulcinella saying to
his wife.

That was the end of the attempt to murder Veronica Serra, and that was
the end of the old life at the Palazzo Macomer.

CHAPTER XVI.

Veronica was not only merciful but generous to Matilde, when she finally
set her own fortune in order. Through Pietro Ghisleri she found an
honest and discreet man of business, whose fortune and good name placed
him above suspicion, and who arranged matters to her satisfaction, and
as far to her advantage as was possible under the circumstances.

Bosio had possessed a competency, which, as he died intestate, became
the inheritance of his brother. But the latter, ow