emed to turn him for a moment into something made not of
flesh and blood but of iron. And this thing of iron was voiceless.

She knew that he was feeling intensely and respected his silence. But at
last it began almost to frighten her. The boyish look she loved had gone
out of his face. A stern man stood beside her, a man she had never seen
before.

"Maurice," she said, at length. "What is it? I think you are suffering."

"Yes," he said.

"But--but aren't you glad? Surely you are glad?"

To her the word seemed mean, poverty-stricken. She changed it.

"Surely you are thankful?"

"I don't know," he answered, at last. "I am thinking that I don't know
that I am worthy to be a father."

He himself had fixed a limit. Now, God was putting a period to his wild
youth. And the heart--was that changed within him?

Too much was happening. The cup was being filled too full. A great
longing came to him to get away, far away, and be alone. If it had been
any other day he would have gone off into the mountains, by himself, have
stayed out till night came, have walked, climbed, till he was exhausted.
But to-day he could not do that. And soon Artois would be coming. He felt
as if something must snap in brain or heart.

And he had not slept. How he wished that he could sleep for a little
while and forget everything. In sleep one knows nothing. He longed to be
able to sleep.

"I understand that," she said. "But you are worthy, my dear one."

When she said that he knew that he could never tell her.

"I must try," he muttered. "I'll try--from to-day."

She did not talk to him any more. Her instinct told her not to. Almost
directly they were walking down to the priest's house. She did not know
which of them had moved first.

When they got there they found Lucrezia up. Her eyes were red, but she
smiled at Hermione. Then she looked at the padrone with alarm. She
expected him to blame her for having disobeyed his orders of the day
before. But he had forgotten all about that.

"Get breakfast, Lucrezia," Hermione said. "We'll have it on the terrace.
And presently we must have a talk. The sick signore is coming up to-day
for collazione. We must have a very nice collazione, but something
wholesome."

"Si, signora."

Lucrezia went away to the kitchen thankfully. She had heard bad news of
Sebastiano yesterday in the village. He was openly in love with the girl
in the Lipari Isles. Her heart was almost breaking, but the return of