and soul in it. Go."

Barto looked from him to her with the eyes of a dog that awaits an
order.

Victoria gathered her strength, and said: "I am not."

"It is her answer!" Barto roared, and from deep dejection his whole
countenance radiated. "She says it--she might give the lie to a saint! I
was never mad. I saw the spot, and put my finger on it, and not a madman
can do that. My two years are my own. Mad now, for, see!

"I worship the creature. She is not heart and soul in it. She is not in
it at all. She is a little woman, a lovely thing, a toy, a cantatrice.
Joy to the big heart of Barto Rizzo! I am for Brescia!"

He flung his arm like a banner, and ran out.

Carlo laid his sword on a table. Vittoria's head was on his mother's
bosom.

The hour was too full of imminent grief for either of the three to
regard this scene as other than a gross intrusion ended.

"Why did you deny my words?" Carlo said coldly.

"I could not lie to make him wretched," she replied in a low murmur.

"Do you know what that 'I am for Brescia' means? He goes to stir the
city before a soul is ready."

"I warned you that I should speak the truth of myself to-night,
dearest."

"You should discern between speaking truth to a madman, and to a man."

Vittoria did not lift her eyes, and Carlo beckoned to Violetta, with
whom he left the room.

"He is angry," Countess Ammiani murmured. "My child, you cannot
deal with men in a fever unless you learn to dissemble; and there is
exemption for doing it, both in plain sense, and in our religion. If I
could arrest him, I would speak boldly. It is, alas! vain to dream of
that; and it is therefore an unkindness to cause him irritation.
Carlo has given way to you by allowing you to be here when his friends
assemble. He knows your intention to speak. He has done more than would
have been permitted by my husband to me, though I too was well-beloved."

Vittoria continued silent that her head might be cherished where it lay.
She was roused from a stupor by hearing new voices. Laura's lips came
pressing to her cheek. Colonel Corte, Agostino, Marco Sana, and Angelo
Guidascarpi, saluted her. Angelo she kissed.

"That lady should be abed and asleep," Corte was heard to say.

The remark passed without notice. Angelo talked apart with Vittoria. He
had seen the dying of the woman whose hand had been checked in the act
of striking by the very passion of animal hatred which raised it. He
spoke of her affect