began. There were many strange faces and voices in it, and it was a
studied play, each part learned by rote. It did not seem like old times
at all. Barnaba began to feel very far away, when suddenly he was called
to where the lady Henrighetta was, and bidden to follow her as her page.
She greeted him kindly. "All you have to do is to stand by my side," she
said. To stand by her side! And then the curtain rose again, and the
lady Henrighetta, clad in regal robes, sailed forward, and Barnaba, clad
as a page, followed her meekly and stood at her side.

What a little hum there was when she appeared! and when Guido strode
rapidly in toward her and pressed her passionately, how the applause
rang! It was an intense scene, and Guido seemed intensely in earnest.
"How well he plays," thought Barnaba. Then, as Guido looked at
Henrighetta and Henrighetta really blushed a little and dropped her
eyelids, Barnaba's soul rose. It was a strong soul; it was a man's soul;
and it was in a white heat of rage now. If he, the page, had but a sword
to kill him, the lover! Just then he heard a little whisper which the
others did not hear. It was too low. Guido had said, not "Leonora, mia
cara," as the play said, but "Henrighetta, mia cara." There was a sudden
movement on the stage. It was the page who had turned quickly,
frantically. He had nearly reached the door when he turned again and
came back, white but firm, with a strange smile on his lip, and resumed
his place. Guido swore. The pretty tableau was spoiled. I am afraid even
my lady sighed softly, but Barnaba did not know that. She had told him
to stand by her side, and her command must be obeyed.

The scene over, however, Barnaba rushed from the house, out into the
fresh air. He turned and gazed back through the window. There they stood
together, side by side, smiling, happy, Guido and Henrighetta, and here
was poor Barnaba, still in the trappings of livery, with his heart all
torn in his hands. Out in the darkness he dropped his head toward the
earth. Giuseppe saw the face, and came toward him. "What is it,
brother?" asked he softly. "What have you lost?" Barnaba looked up at
him. His brave, firm lips trembled once. "My life," he said; "I have
lost my life." There was a silence. "He that loseth his life shall find
it," said Giuseppe. "These are the words of the Lord." And the two
brothers crossed themselves and walked homeward together in silence.

It was six months after, at the time