them start, was
still upon her terrace. She called down: "what is that upon your hand,
Tonino?--Jesus Christ!--the boat is full of blood!"

"It is nothing, Commare;" the young fellow replied. "I tore my
hand against a nail that was sticking out too far, it will be well
to-morrow. It is only this confounded ready blood of mine, that always
makes a thing look worse than needful."

"Let me come and bind it up, Comparello; stop one moment, I will go and
fetch the herbs, and come to you directly."

"Never trouble yourself, Commare. It has been dressed already,
to-morrow morning it will be all over and forgotten. I have a healthy
skin, that heals directly."

"Addio!" said Laurella, turning to the path that goes winding up the
cliffs. "Good night!" he answered, without looking at her; and then
taking his oars and baskets from the boat, and climbing up the small
stone stairs, he went into his own hut.

He was alone in his two little rooms, and began to pace them up and
down. Cooler than upon the dead calm sea, the breeze blew fresh through
the small unglazed windows, which were only to be closed with wooden
shutters. The solitude was soothing to him. He stopped before the
little image of the Virgin, devoutly gazing upon the glory round the
head (made of stars cut out in silver paper). But he did not want to
pray. What reason had he to pray, now that he had lost all he had ever
hoped for?

And this day appeared to last for ever. He did so long for night! for
he was weary, and more exhausted by the loss of blood, than he would
have cared to own. His hand was very sore: seating himself upon a
little stool, he untied the handkerchief that bound it, the blood, so
long repressed, gushed out again; all round the wound the hand was
swollen high.

He washed it carefully; cooling it in the water; then he clearly saw
the marks of Laurella's teeth.

"She was right," he said--"I was a brute and deserved no better. I will
send her back the handkerchief by Giuseppe, to-morrow. Never shall she
set eyes on me again."--And he washed the handkerchief with greatest
care, and spread it out in the sun to dry.

And having bound up his hand again, as well as he could manage with his
teeth and his left hand, he threw himself upon his bed, and closed his
eyes.

He was soon waked up from a sort of slumber, by the rays of the bright
moonlight, and also by the pain of his hand; he had just risen for more
cold water to soothe its throbbings