ore he
married me."

"I cannot tell," said Baldassarre, pausing in that action of feeling the
knife, and looking bewildered. "I can remember no more. I only know
where she lives. You shall see her. I will take you; but not now," he
added hurriedly, "_he_ may be there. The night is coming on."

"It is true," said Romola, starting up with a sudden consciousness that
the sun had set and the hills were darkening; "but you will come and
take me--when?"

"In the morning," said Baldassarre, dreaming that she, too, wanted to
hurry to her vengeance.

"Come to me, then, where you came to me to-day, in the church. I will
be there at ten; and if you are not there, I will go again towards
mid-day. Can you remember?"

"Mid-day," said Baldassarre--"only mid-day. The same place, and
mid-day. And, after that," he added, rising and grasping her arm again
with his left hand, while he held the knife in his right; "we will have
our revenge. He shall feel the sharp edge of justice. The world is
against me, but you will help me."

"I would help you in other ways," said Romola, making a first, timid
effort to dispel his illusion about her. "I fear you are in want; you
have to labour, and get little. I should like to bring you comforts,
and make you feel again that there is some one who cares for you."

"Talk no more about that," said Baldassarre, fiercely. "I will have
nothing else. Help me to wring one drop of vengeance on this side of
the grave. I have nothing but my knife. It is sharp; but there is a
moment after the thrust when men see the face of death,--and it shall be
my face that he will see."

He loosed his hold, and sank down again in a sitting posture. Romola
felt helpless: she must defer all intentions till the morrow.

"Mid-day, then," she said, in a distinct voice.

"Yes," he answered, with an air of exhaustion. "Go; I will rest here."

She hastened away. Turning at the last spot whence he was likely to be
in sight, she saw him seated still.

CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR.

THE EVENING AND THE MORNING.

Romola had a purpose in her mind as she was hastening away; a purpose
which had been growing through the afternoon hours like a side-stream,
rising higher and higher along with the main current. It was less a
resolve than a necessity of her feeling. Heedless of the darkening
streets, and not caring to call for Maso's slow escort, she hurried
across the bridge where the river showed itself black bef