obeyed the call. How far had he gone?
How strongly had he been governed? Probably Artois would never know. Long
ago he had prophesied, vaguely perhaps, still he had prophesied. And now
had he not engineered perhaps the fulfilment of his own prophecy?

But at all costs Hermione must be spared any knowledge of that
fulfilment.

He longed to go to her and to guard her door against the Sicilians. But
surely in such a moment they would not speak to her of any suspicions, of
any certainties, even if they had them. She would surely be the last
person to hear anything, unless--he thought of the "authorities"--of the
Pretore, the Cancelliere, the Maresciallo, and suddenly it occurred to
him to ride down to the sea. If the inquiry had yielded any terrible
result he might do something to protect Hermione. If not, he might be
able to prepare her. She must not receive any coarse shock from these
strangers in the midst of her agony.

He got his hat, opened his door, and went quietly down-stairs. He did not
wish to see Hermione before he went. Perhaps he would return with his
mind relieved of its heaviest burden, and then at least he could meet her
eyes without a furtive guilt in his.

At the foot of the stairs he met Ferdinando.

"Can you get me a donkey, Ferdinando?" he said.

"Si, signore."

"I don't want a boy. Just get me a donkey, and I shall go for a short
ride. You say the signora has not asked for me?"

"No, signore."

"If she does, explain to her that I have gone out, as I did not like to
disturb her."

Hermione might think him heartless to go out riding at such a time. He
would risk that. He would risk anything to spare her the last, the
nameless agony that would be hers if what he suspected were true, and she
were to learn of it, to know that all these people round her knew it.

That Hermione should be outraged, that the sacredness of her despair
should be profaned, and the holiness of her memories utterly
polluted--Artois felt he would give his life willingly to prevent that.

When the donkey came he set off at once. He had drawn his broad-brimmed
hat down low over his pale face, and he looked neither to right nor left,
as he was carried down the long and narrow street, followed by the
searching glances of the inhabitants, who, as he had surmised, were all
out, engaged in eager conversation, and anxiously waiting for the return
of the Pretore and his assistants, and the announcement of the result of
the au