if you wish to." Franco dragged
Luisa away entreating her to be silent, to resign herself for love of
Maria. He seemed like another man, exhibiting neither grief nor anger,
and there was in his voice a ring of serious sweetness, of manly calm.

He put some linen into a bag, together with a volume of Dante and an
_Almanach du Jardinier_, which were on the table, bent over Maria for a
moment but did not kiss her, for she had gone to sleep, and he feared to
wake her. He kissed Luisa, however, but as they were being observed by
the gendarmes stationed at either door of the room, he quickly freed
himself from her embrace, saying, in French, that they must not provide
a spectacle for those gentlemen. Then he took up his bag, and went to
place himself at the detective's orders.

The police-adjunct had a boat waiting not fifty paces from Casa Ribera,
towards Albogasio, at the landing called _del Canevaa_. Upon issuing
from the portico spanned by his house, Franco heard a shutter being
thrown open above his head, and saw the light from his bedroom flash
against the white facade of the church. He turned towards the window,
saying--

"Send for the doctor to-morrow morning. Good-bye."

Luisa did not answer.

When the gendarmes reached the Canevaa with their prisoner, the adjunct
ordered them to stop.

"Signor Maironi," said he, "you have had your lesson. This time you may
return to your home, and I advise you to learn to respect the
Authorities."

Amazement, joy, and indignation welled up in Franco's heart. He
controlled himself, however, biting his lips, and started homewards at a
leisurely pace. He had not yet turned the corner of the church when
Luisa recognised his step, and called, "Franco!"

He sprang forward, and she saw him. Then her shadow vanished from the
window. He rushed into the house, flung himself up the stairs, crying,
"Free! Free!" while his wife came flying down, exclaiming wildly, "How!
How! How!" They sought each other with eager arms, clung together,
pressing close, without further speech.

But afterwards, in the loggia, they talked incessantly for two hours, of
all they had heard, seen, and experienced, always coming back to the
sabre, the papers, the coins, dwelling upon many trifling details, on
the detective's Venetian accent, on the dark-haired gendarme, who seemed
a good fellow, and the fair-haired gendarme, who must be a regular cur.
From time to time they would cease speaking, enjoying in si