consumed! The smoke now darkened the heavens. The flames belted the
thick tower-walls as with a burning girdle. Showers of sparks and
flames rose out from each aperture with sudden bursts, revealing every
detail on the gray old walls; moss and lichen, a trail of ivy that
had forced itself upward, long grass that floated in the hot air; a
crevice under the battlements where a bird had built its nest. Then
a swirl of smoke swooped down and smothered all, while overhead the
mighty company of constellations looked calmly down in their cold
brightness!

A crowd of men now came running down from Corellia, roused by the
church-bells. Pietro, the baker, still hard at work, was the first to
hear the bell, to dash into the street, and shout, "Help! help! Fire!
fire! At the villa!"

Oreste and Pilade heard him. They came tumbling out. Ser Giacomo
roused the sindaco--who in his turn woke his clerk; but when Mr.
Sindaco was fairly off down the hill, this much-injured and very weary
youth turned back and went to bed.

Some bore lighted torches, others copper buckets. Pietro, the butcher,
brought the municipal ladder. These men promptly formed a line down
the hill, to carry the water from the willful mountain-stream that
fed the town fountain. Fra Pacifico took the lead. (He had heard the
alarm, and had rung the church-bells himself.) No one cared for the
marchesa; but a burning house was a fine sight, and where Fra Pacifico
went all Corellia followed. Adamo, recovered now, was soon upon the
ladder, receiving the buckets from below. Pipa beside the fountain
watched the marchesa, sprinkling water on her face. "Surely her
eyelids faintly quiver!" thinks Pipa.--Pipa watched the marchesa
speechless--watched her as birth and death are only watched!

The marchesa's eyes had quivered; now they slowly unclose. Pipa, who,
next to the Virgin and the saints, worshiped her mistress--laughed
wildly--sobbed--then laughed again--kissed her hand, her
forehead--then pressed her in her arms. Supported by Pipa, the
marchesa sat up--she turned, and then she saw the mountains of smoke
bursting from the tower, forming into great clouds that rose over the
tree-tops, and shut out the stars. The marchesa glanced quickly round
with her keen, black eyes--she glanced as one searching for some thing
she cannot find; then her lips parted, and one word fell faintly from
them: "Enrica!"

Pipa caught the half-uttered name, she echoed it with a scream.

"Ahi