esist, even when he raised it to his
ridiculous little mouth and kissed it delicately, with an air of
respectful devotion that would not have offended a saint.

Nor was Ortensia offended; but she was frightened out of her mind by his
manner, for it was as if he were already condoling with her, and
offering his faithful service, before telling her the awful truth.

'He is dead!' she cried, breaking from him and pressing both hands to
her temples in mad grief.

She would have fallen against the table, if Trombin had not caught her
and held her up. He understood instantly how she had mistaken his
action, and what the question had been which he had not heard.

'No, no!' he cried energetically. 'He is alive and well! He insisted on
going back to the palace to wait for Don Alberto when he came home from
the Lateran to catch you in your rooms! Instead, the villain tracked you
here and got in. It was Tommaso's fault for leaving the back door open
to the vineyard, and Altieri fastened it inside, so I broke in through
the window to save you! We had nailed all the windows fast for your
safety!'

Ortensia leaned back against the table and looked straight at him. He
could tell the most amazing untruths with perfect coolness, but just now
he was so very near the truth that his worst enemy would have believed
him. Untruthful people often have a shifty glance, but the truly
accomplished liar is he whose clear and limpid eye meets yours
trustfully and sadly, while he tells you falsehoods that would make the
Father of Lies himself look grave. The immediate result of Trombin's
words was that Ortensia could almost have thrown her arms round his neck
in her joy.

'Take me to him!' she cried, forgetting everything else. 'Take me to
him! Come!' She tried to drag him towards the door in her haste, but he
quietly resisted her.

'We must wait for Gambardella,' he said. 'Besides, you will have to
trust your husband to settle matters with Don Alberto without you. He is
far more likely to be prudent if they meet alone than if you are beside
him----'

Ortensia's face fell, for she saw that Trombin did not mean to let her
leave the house at once.

'But Don Alberto can do anything,' she pleaded, with clear foresight of
Stradella's temper and consequent danger. 'My husband will accuse him,
and will be furiously angry! He will not hesitate to strike him, or to
fight him in his own house! And then Don Alberto will have him
imprisoned!'

It