e was trembling still. Temistocle thrust the clothes into his bag.

"My watch!" objected the unfortunate man, "and my pearl studs--give them
to me--what? You villain! you thief! you--"

"No _chiacchiere_, no talk, _padrone_," interrupted Temistocle, snapping
the lock of the bag. "If you chance to be searched, it would ill become a
mendicant friar to be carrying gold watches and pearl studs. I will give
them to Donna Tullia this very evening. You have money--you can say that
you are taking that to your convent."

"Swear to give the watch to Donna Tullia," said Del Ferice. Whereupon
Temistocle swore a terrible oath, which he did not fail to break, of
course. But his master had to be satisfied, and when all was completed
the two parted company.

"I will ask Donna Tullia to take me to Naples on her passport," said the
Neapolitan.

"Take care of my things, Temistoele. Burn all the papers if you
can--though I suppose the _sbirri_ have got them by this time. Bring my
clothes--if you steal anything, remember there are knives in Rome, and I
know where to write to have them used." Whereat Temistocle broke into a
torrent of protestations. How could his master think that, after saving
him at such risk, his faithful servant would plunder him?

"Well," said Del Ferice, thoughtfully, "you are a great scoundrel, you
know. But you have saved me, as you say. There is a scudo for you."

Temistocle never refused anything. He took the coin, kissed his master's
hand as a final exhibition of servility, and turned back towards the city
without another word. Del Ferice shuddered, and drew his heavy cowl over
his head as he began to walk quickly towards the Porta Maggiore. Then he
took the inside road, skirting the walls through the mud to the Porta San
Lorenzo. He was perfectly safe in his disguise. He had dined abundantly,
he had money in his pocket, and he had escaped the clutches of the Holy
Office. A barefooted friar might walk for days unchallenged through the
Roman Campagna and the neighbouring hills, and it was not far to the
south-eastern frontier. He did not know the way beyond Tivoli, but he
could inquire without exciting the least suspicion. There are few
disguises more complete than the garb of a Capuchin monk, and Del Ferice
had long contemplated playing the part, for it was one which eminently
suited him. His face, much thinner now than formerly, was yet naturally
round, and without his moustache would certainly pass for a h