hone brightly. She went to the bottom of the
sea, Donna Pina, and was never heard of again, but we drifted for many
hours, half dead with cold, and were washed upon the Roman shore.'

'And what was fated, happened,' said Pina with a smile. 'For if you had
not been thrown overboard you would have been drowned with the rest, Sor
Antonino!'

Cucurullo smiled too, very quietly, and helped Pina to the last
drumstick left over from a cold chicken.

'Well, well, Donna Pina,' he said, 'that is your way of believing, I
dare say, but I have told you what happened to me; and now you will
understand better why I should be glad to serve the master with my life,
if I might.'

'You are a good man,' said Pina in a thoughtful tone. 'If there were
more like you, this would not be such a bad world as it is. What you say
about Don Alberto is true, and if I could see any way of being useful in
watching him I would do all I could. Are the two Venetian gentlemen who
helped us in Ferrara still in Rome? I do not know what they are, and
sometimes I was afraid of them, but they would be strong allies if they
knew that our lady was in danger and if they were willing to help us.'

'They are still in Rome, for I saw them only to-day, going into the
Gesu. They must be very devout gentlemen, for I often see them in
churches, and their servant has been valet to a bishop, and understands
the ceremonials perfectly. It is a pleasure to talk with him. He can
tell the meaning of every vestment and of every change in a pontifical
high mass, and I think he knows half the Roman Breviary by heart, and
all the Psalms!'

Pina was not so sure about the piety of the Bravi and their servant, and
as she nibbled her last bit of bread, she looked thoughtfully across the
clothless deal table at the hunchback's trusting and spiritual face. In
the dramatic vicissitudes of her own youth she had not learned to put
her faith in men, nor in women either; and if there had ever been a
gentle and affectionate side to her strong nature, it had been trodden
and tormented till it had died, leaving scarcely a memory of itself
behind.

As he sat on the kitchen chair, Cucurullo's head was not much above the
edge of the table, and she looked down at him, meeting his sad eyes as
they gazed up to hers. She liked him, and was glad that he did not know
what was passing through her mind; for she foresaw trouble in the near
future, and was afraid for herself. In some way she might ye