nunziata's brother
ceased singing; a cloud overspread his brow, and he asked, in an eager
tone, for a description of the curiously behaved stranger. Esperance
gave it to him, remarking as he did so that his companion turned
slightly pale and seemed frightened.

"Who is this man?" he asked, as he concluded. "Do you know him? He
appeared strangely familiar to me."

"Do I know him?" repeated Lorenzo, with a shudder. "Yes--that is no!"

Esperance stared at his comrade in surprise and uneasiness; the youthful
peasant evidently had more knowledge of the singular intruder than he
was willing to admit. There was surely some mystery here. What was it?
Did the presence of this stranger menace the peace, the tranquillity,
the safety of the Solara family? Was he in some dark way associated with
the movements and actions of old Pasquale? Esperance attempted to
question Lorenzo further, but he only shook his head and declined to
make any disclosures. He, however, stipulated that his sister should
not be informed of what had occurred, urging that there was no necessity
of uselessly alarming her. Alarming her? What could he mean? Esperance
grew more and more perplexed, and his conviction that he had met the
stranger previously, increasing in strength, added to his anxiety and
discomfort.

For some hours Giovanni had kept his room and given no sign. What was he
meditating? Was it possible that he was concocting some cunning plan by
which to circumvent intervention and gain undisturbed possession of the
girl who had so powerfully influenced his passions? Could it be that he
was in some mysterious way associated with the strange peasant, whose
sudden advent seemed of such ill omen? Esperance thought of all these
things and was infinitely tortured by them, but, one by one, he
succeeded in dismissing them from his mind. Giovanni was certainly under
a potent spell that might lead him to the commission of any
indiscretion, but he was at bottom a man of honor, and there was some
chance that his better feelings might obtain the mastery of his mere
physical inclinations. At any rate, Esperance felt that he could trust
him for one night more at least. Perhaps in the morning he would awaken
to a true sense of his position and acknowledge his error; he might even
implore his friend's pardon, admit that he was right and consent to
return to Rome, leaving the bewitching Annunziata in all her innocence
and purity. Upon reflection Esperance decided