t I never heard
that last movement.

Instead of the soft, sweet, liquid notes of passionate love, there was a
spasmodic, fearful gasp succeeded by a long, deep groan. The music
stopped abruptly, and the piercing cry of a woman rang out. I threw open
the door and rushed headlong into the room. I heard an oath, an
exclamation of surprise, and the muffled cry of the woman. I turned in
the direction of that faint cry. My foot caught in something, and I fell
prostrate on the body of a man. Before I could rise a strong hand
gripped my throat and I heard the sharp click of a pistol lock.

"Spare me!" I cried. "I am blind, blind, blind!"

I lay perfectly still, crying out these words again and again.

A strong light was turned on my eyes. There was no sound in the room
save the muffled cry of the woman. The hands at my throat were released,
and I was ordered to stand up. Some elementary tests of my blindness
were tried, and I was told to give an account of my presence in the
house. My story seemed to satisfy the man who questioned me. I was
bidden to sit in a chair. I could hear the sound of men carrying a heavy
burden out of the room. Then the woman's moans ceased. A voice at my
side bade me drink something out of a glass, enforcing the demand with a
pistol at my temple. A heavy drowsiness came over me, and I sank into
unconsciousness.

When I came to myself I was in my own bed in my own room, having been
found, apparently in a state of helpless intoxication, lying in a street
some distance from where I lived.

_II.--Not for Love or Marriage_

Two years elapsed. The operation had given me back the use of my eyes. I
was in the city of Turin with a friend. The sight of a beautiful face
lured my companion and myself into the cathedral of San Giovanni. It was
the face of a young girl of about twenty-two; a face of entrancing
beauty. Seated with my friend, I watched her until she rose and left
with her companion, an old Italian woman. For a moment I caught a look
of her dark, glorious eyes as she mechanically crossed herself with holy
water. There was a dreamy, far-away look in them, a look that seemed to
pass over one and see what was behind the object gazed at.

We followed her out of the cathedral and saw the old woman speak to a
middle-aged, round-shouldered, bespectacled man of gentlemanly
appearance.

"Do English gentlemen stare at their own countrywomen in public places
like this?" said a voice at our elbows.