and disappeared instantly.

Returning to Benedetto, who was gesticulating furiously, I told him to
leave the studio, that his conduct was infamous, and if I heard of his
ill-treating his wife I would have him punished.

"_Debole_!" (idiot!) he replied, shrugging his shoulders, and departing
amid derisive cheers.

Several days passed, and no signs of Benedetto. By the end of a week he
was forgotten. Three days before my departure from Rome his wife entered
my studio.

"You are leaving Rome," she said, "and I want you to take me with you."

"Take you with me!--but your husband?"

"Dead," she answered tranquilly.

A thought crossed my mind.

"Did you kill him?" I said.

She made an affirmative sign, adding, "But I meant to die too."

"How was it?" I asked.

"After he offered me that affront," she replied, "he came home and beat
me, as he often did; then he went out and was gone all day. At night he
returned with a pistol and threatened to shoot me; but I got the pistol
away from him, for he was drunk. I threw him--the _briccone_!--on his
bed, and he fell asleep. Then I stuffed up the doors and windows, and
lighted the charcoal brazier. My head ached horribly, and I knew nothing
more till the next day, when I woke up in the hands of my neighbors.
They had smelt the charcoal, and burst in the door,--but he was dead."

"And the law?"

"I told the judge everything. Besides, _he_ had tried to sell me to
an Englishman,--that's why he wanted to disgrace me here with you; he
thought I would resist less. The judge told me I might go, I had done
right; then I confessed to a priest, and he gave me absolution."

"But, _cara mia_, what can you do in France? Better stay in Italy;
besides, I am not rich."

She smiled disdainfully.

"I shall not cost you much," she said; "on the contrary, I can save you
money."

"How so?"

"I can be the model for your statues if I choose. Besides which, I am a
capital housekeeper. If Benedetto had behaved properly, we should have
had a good home,--_per che_, I know how to make one; and I've another
great talent too!"

She ran to a guitar, which was hanging on the wall, and began to sing a
bravura air, accompanying herself with singular energy.

"In France," she said, when she had finished, "I could take lessons and
go upon the stage, where I know I should succeed; that was Benedetto's
idea."

"But why not do that in Italy?"

"I am hiding from that Englishman," she replied; "h