ove from his hand, laid it on the breast that
shone in the wet folds.

"I swear, before God--" he said ... "before God!" He swayed heavily and
fell forward.

The artist sprang to his side. As he touched him, his eye fell on the
ungloved hand.... Shuddering, he reached over and lifted the glove from
the wet breast. He drew it over the hand, covering it from sight.

VI

"You must go!" said Titian sternly.

The young man looked at him dully, almost appealingly. He shook his
head. "I have work to do."

Titian lifted an impatient hand. "The people will not permit it--I tell
you!" He spoke harshly. "Giorgione is their idol. It has been hard to
keep them--this one week! Only my promise that you go at once holds
them."

The young man smiled, a little cynically. "Do you think I fear death--I
crave it!" His arms fell at his sides.

His companion looked at him intently. "What is your plan?" he asked
shortly.

"Giorgione--" The voice was tense. "He shall pay--to the uttermost!"

"For that?" Titian made a motion toward the gloved hand.

The young man raised it with a scornful gesture.

"For that"--he spoke sternly--"I would not touch the dog. It is for
her!" His voice dropped.

Titian waited a moment. "What would you do?" he asked in a low voice.

The young man stirred. "I care not. He must suffer--as she suffered," he
added with slow significance.

"Would that content you? Would you go away--and not return?"

"I would go--yes."

Titian waited, his eyes on the gloved hand. "You can go," he said at
last, "the Lord has avenged her."

The young man leaned forward. His breath came sharply. "What do you
mean?"

"That she is avenged," said Titian slowly. "Giorgione cannot live the
year. Go away. Leave him to die in peace."

"I did not ask for peace," said the young man grimly.

Titian turned on him fiercely. "His heart breaks. He dies drop by drop!"

The young man smiled.

Titian watched him closely. "You need not fear his not suffering," he
said significantly. "Go watch through his window, or by a crack in the
door."--He waited a breath. "The man is mad!"

The young man started sharply.

"Mad!" repeated Titian.

Zarato turned on him a look of horror and exultation. "Mad!" he repeated
softly. The gloved hand trembled.

A look of relief stole into Titian's face. "Does that satisfy you?" he
asked quietly. "Will you go?"

"Yes, I will go." The young man rose. He moved toward the door. "Mad!"
he