clasping her
and pressing her down. And she prayed aloud, long, fervently, almost
wildly, appealing to God for protection against a bodily tempting devil,
who by his will, and with evil strength, was luring and driving a human
soul to utter damnation.

CHAPTER III.

"IT is well," said Stefanone. "The world is come to an end. I will not
say anything more."

He finished his tumbler of wine, leaned back on the wooden bench against
the brown wall, played with the broad silver buttons of his dark blue
jacket, and stared hard at Sor Tommaso, the doctor, who sat opposite to
him. The doctor returned his glance rather unsteadily and betook himself
to his snuffbox. It was of worn black ebony, adorned in the middle of
the lid with a small view of Saint Peter's and the colonnades in mosaic,
with a very blue sky. From long use, each tiny fragment of the mosaic
was surrounded by a minute black line, which indeed lent some tone to
the intensely clear atmosphere of the little picture, but gave the
architecture represented therein a dirty and neglected appearance. The
snuff itself, however, was of the superior quality known as Sicilian in
those days, and was of a beautiful light brown colour.

"And why?" asked the doctor very slowly, between the operations of
pinching, stuffing, snuffing, and dusting. "Why is the world come to an
end?"

Stefanone's eyes grew sullen, with a sort of dull glare in their
unwinking gaze. He looked dangerous just then, but the doctor did not
seem to be in the least afraid of him.

"You, who have made it end, should know why," answered the peasant,
after a short pause.

Stefanone was a man of the Roman type, of medium height, thick set and
naturally melancholic, with thin, straight lips that were clean shaven,
straight black hair, a small but aggressively aquiline nose and heavy
hands, hairy on the backs of the fingers, between the knuckles. His
wife, Sora Nanna, said that he had a fist like a paving-stone. He also
looked as though he might have the constitution of a mule. He was at
that time about five-and-thirty years of age, and there were a few
strong lines in his face, notably those curved ones drawn from the
beginning of the nostrils to the corners of the mouth, which are said to
denote an uncertain temper.

He wore the dress of the richer peasants of that day, a coarse but
spotless white shirt, very open at the throat, a jacket and waistcoat of
stout dark blue cloth, with large and sm