replied evasively to all enquiries as to what had
become of him during his absence from Pianura; but on Odo's asking for
news of Momola and the child he said coldly: "They are both dead."

"Dead?" Odo exclaimed. "Together?"

"There was scarce an hour between them," Gamba answered. "She said she
must keep alive as long as the boy needed her--after that she turned on
her side and died."

"But of what disorder? How came they to sicken at the same time?"

The hunchback stood silent, his eyes on the ground. Suddenly he raised
them and looked full at the Duke.

"Those that saw them called it the plague."

"The plague? Good God!" Odo slowly returned his stare. "Is it
possible--" he paused--"that she too was at the feast of the Madonna?"

"She was there, but it was not there that she contracted the distemper."

"Not there--?"

"No; for she dragged herself from her bed to go."

There was another silence. The hunchback had lowered his eyes. The Duke
sat motionless, resting his head on his hand. Suddenly he made a gesture
of dismissal...

Two months after his state entry into Pianura Odo married his cousin's
widow.

It surprised him, in looking back, to see how completely the thought of
Maria Clementina had passed out of his life, how wholly he had ceased to
reckon with her as one of the factors in his destiny. At her child's
death-bed he had seen in her only the stricken mother, centred in her
loss, and recalling, in an agony of tears, the little prince's prophetic
vision of the winged playmates who came to him carrying toys from
Paradise. After Prince Ferrante's death she had gone on a long visit to
her uncle of Monte Alloro; and since her return to Pianura she had lived
in the dower-house, refusing Odo's offer of a palace in the town. She
had first shown herself to the public on the day of the state entry; and
now, her year of widowhood over, she was again the consort of a reigning
Duke of Pianura.

No one was more ignorant than her husband of the motives determining her
act. As Duchess of Monte Alloro she might have enjoyed the wealth and
independence which her uncle's death had bestowed on her, but in
marrying again she resigned the right to her new possessions, which
became vested in the crown of Pianura. Was it love that had prompted the
sacrifice? As she stood beside him on the altar steps of the Cathedral,
as she rode home beside him between their shouting subjects, Odo asked
himself the question again and