softly into the dark summer night, and climbed the
stairs to the attic.

"I am going to take you to Rome to-night," she whispered in Marcello's
ear.

"Rome?" he repeated vaguely, half asleep.

She wrapped him in the tattered blanket as he was, and lifted him
lightly in her arms. Down the stairs she bore him, and then lifted him
upon the tail of the cart, propping him up as best she could, and
passing round him the end of one of the ropes that held the casks in
place. He breathed more freely in the open air, and she had fed him
again before the carters came to supper.

"And you?" he asked faintly.

"I shall walk," she whispered. "Now wait, and make no noise, or they
will kill you. Are you comfortable?"

She could see that he nodded his head.

"We shall start presently," she said.

She went into the kitchen, waked Mommo, and made him swallow the rest of
his wine. He was easily persuaded that he had slept too long, and must
be on the road. The innkeeper and Nanna grumbled a good-night as he went
out rather unsteadily, followed by Regina. A moment later the mules'
bells jingled, the cart creaked, and Mommo was off.

Paoluccio and his wife made their way to the outer stairs and to bed,
leaving Regina to put out the lights and lock up the kitchen. She lost
no time in doing this, ran up the steps in the dark, hung the key on its
nail in the entry, and went to her attic, making a loud noise with her
loose slippers, so that the couple might hear her. She came down again
in her stockings almost at once, carrying the slippers and a small
bundle containing her belongings. She made no noise now, though it was
almost quite dark, and in another instant she was out on the road to
Rome. It had all been done so quickly that she could still hear the
jingling of Mommo's mule bells in the distance. She had only a few
hundred yards to run, and she was walking at the tail of the cart with
one hand resting on Marcello's knee as he lay there wrapped up in the
ragged blanket.

CHAPTER VII

It was clear dawn, and there was confusion at the Porta San Giovanni.
Mommo had wakened, red-eyed and cross as usual, a little while before
reaching the gate, and had uttered several strange noises to quicken the
pace of his mules. After that, everything had happened as usual, for a
little while; he had stopped inside the walls before the guard-house of
the city customs, had nodded to the octroi inspectors, and had got his
money ready w