as on the point of telling Hermione that he was sure that the padrone
had been murdered, and that he meant to avenge the murder. Hermione
believed that for the moment he was mad, and was determined to destroy
himself in her presence. It was useless to pit her strength against his.
In a physical struggle she must be overcome. Her only chance was to
subdue him by other means.

"Gaspare," she said, quickly, breathlessly, pointing to the bed. "Don't
you think the padrone would have wished you to take care of me now? He
trusted you. I think he would. I think he would rather you were with me
than any one else in the whole world. You must take care of me. You must
take care of me. You must never leave me!"

The boy looked at her. His face changed, grew softer.

"I've got nobody now," she added. "Nobody but you."

The knife fell on the floor.

In that moment Gaspare's resolve was taken. The battle within him was
over. He must protect the padrona. The padrone would have wished it. Then
he must let Salvatore go.

He bent down and kissed Hermione's hand.

"Lei non piange!" he muttered. "Forse Dio la aiutera."

In the morning, early, Hermione left the body for the first time, went
into the dressing-room, changed her clothes, then came back and said to
Gaspare:

"I am going a little way up the mountain, Gaspare. I shall not be long.
No, don't come with me. Stay with him. Are you dreadfully tired?"

"No, signora."

"We shall be able to rest presently," she said.

She was thinking of the time when they would take Maurice from her. She
left Gaspare sitting near the bed, and went out onto the terrace.
Lucrezia and Gaspare, both thoroughly tired out, were sleeping soundly.
She was thankful for that. Soon, she knew, she would have to be with
people, to talk, to make arrangements. But now she had a short spell of
solitude.

She went slowly up the mountain-side till she was near the top. Then she
sat down on a rock and looked out towards the sea.

The world was not awake yet, although the sun was coming. Etna was like a
great phantom, the waters at its foot were pale in their tranquillity.
The air was fresh, but there was no wind to rustle the leaves of the
oak-trees, upon whose crested heads Hermione gazed down with quiet,
tearless eyes.

She had a strange feeling of being out of the world, as if she had left
it, but still had the power to see it. She wondered if Maurice felt like
that.

He had said it would be good to