must go now. Gaspare!"

"Si, signore?"

"We must be careful, you and I, to-day. We must not let the signora,
Lucrezia, any one suspect that--that we are not just as usual. Do you
see?"

"Si, signore."

The boy nodded. His eyes now looked tired.

"And try to keep a lookout, when you can, without drawing the attention
of the signora. Salvatore might change his mind and come up. The signora
is not to know. She is never to know. Do you think"--he hesitated--"do
you think Salvatore has told any one?"

"Non lo so."

The boy was silent. Then he lifted his hands again and said:

"Signorino! Signorino!"

And Maurice seemed to hear at that moment the voice of an accusing angel.

"Gaspare," he said, "I was mad. We men--we are mad sometimes. But now I
must be sane. I must do what I can to--I must do what I can--and you must
help me."

He held out his hand. Gaspare took it. The grasp of it was strong, that
of a man. It seemed to reassure the boy.

"I will always help my padrone," he said.

Then they went down the mountain-side.

It was perhaps very strange--Maurice thought it was--but he felt now less
tired, less confused, more master of himself than he had before he had
spoken with Gaspare. He even felt less miserable. Face to face with an
immediate and very threatening danger, courage leaped up in him, a
certain violence of resolve which cleared away clouds and braced his
whole being. He had to fight. There was no way out. Well, then, he would
fight. He had played the villain, perhaps, but he would not play the
poltroon. He did not know what he was going to do, what he could do, but
he must act, and act decisively. His wild youth responded to this call
made upon it. There was a new light in his eyes as he went down to the
cottage, as he came upon the terrace.

Artois noticed it at once, was aware at once that in this marvellous
peace to which Hermione had brought him there were elements which had
nothing to do with peace.

"What hast thou to do with peace? Turn thee behind me."

These words from the Bible came into his mind as he looked into the eyes
of his host, and he felt that Hermione and he were surely near to some
drama of which they knew nothing, of which Hermione, perhaps, suspected
nothing.

Maurice acted his part. The tonic of near danger gave him strength, even
gave him at first a certain subtlety. From the terrace he could see far
over the mountain flanks. As one on a tower he watched for the a