that
only the latter should be in the secret. She was still dressed, though
her hair was undone, and the hood of a thin silk mantle would hide that.
Her mind reasoned by instantaneous flashes now, and she had full control
of herself again. She would tell Nella that she was going downstairs
again for a little while, and she would also tell her to make an
infusion of lime flowers and to bring it in half an hour and wait for
her. Down the main staircase to the landing, down the narrow stairs in
the dark, out into the street--it would not take long, and she would tap
very softly at the door of the glass-house.

When she said that she would go down again, Nella suspected nothing. On
the contrary she thought her mistress was wise.

"You will lead on the Signor Giovanni to talk of Zorzi," she said. "You
will learn something."

"And make me a drink of lime flowers," continued Marietta. "The
housekeeper has plenty."

"I know, I know," answered Nella. "Shall you come up again soon?"

"Be here in half an hour with the drink, and wait for me. You had
better go for the lime flowers before the housekeeper is asleep. I will
twist my hair up again before I go down."

Nella nodded and disappeared, for the housekeeper generally went to bed
very early. As soon as she was out of the room Marietta took her silk
cloak and wrapped herself in it, drawing the end over her head, so as to
hide her hair and shade her face. She was pale still, but her lips were
tightly closed and her eyelids a little drawn together, as she left the
room. She met no one on the stairs. In the dark, when she reached the
door, she could feel the oak bar that was set across it at night, and
she slipped it back into its hole in the wall, without making much
noise. She lifted the latch and went out.

The night was still and clear, and the young moon was setting. If any
one had been looking out she must have been seen as she crossed the
wooden bridge, and she glanced nervously back at the open windows. There
were lights in the big room, and she heard Giovanni's monotonous voice,
as he talked to his wife. But there was shadow under the glass-house,
and a moment later she was tapping softly at the door. Pasquale looked
down from the grating, and was about to say something uncomplimentary
when he recognised her, for he could see very well when there was little
light, like most sailors. He opened the door at once, and stood aside to
let Marietta enter.

"Shut the do