or quickly," she whispered, "and do not open it for anybody,
till I come out."

Pasquale obeyed in silence. He knew as well as she did that Giovanni was
sitting in the big room, with open windows, within easy hearing of
ordinary sounds. A feeble light came through the open door of the
porter's lodge.

"Is Zorzi awake?" Marietta asked in a low tone, when both had gone a few
steps down the corridor.

"Yes. He will sleep little to-night, for the boys have not come, and he
must tend the fire himself."

Marietta guessed that her brother had given the order, so that Zorzi
might be left quite alone.

"Pasquale," she said, "I can trust you, I am sure. You are a good friend
to Zorzi."

The porter growled something incoherent, but she understood what he
meant.

"Yes," she continued, "I trust you, and you must trust me. It is
absolutely necessary that I should speak with Zorzi alone to-night. No
one knows that I have left the house, and no one must know that I have
been here."

The old sailor had seen much in his day, but he was profoundly
astonished at Marietta's audacity.

"You are the mistress," he said in a grave and quiet voice that Marietta
had never heard before. "But I am an old man, and I cannot help telling
you that it is not seemly for a young girl to be alone at night with a
young man, in the place where he lives. You will forgive me for saying
so, because I have served your father a long time."

"You are quite right," answered Marietta. "But in matters of life and
death there is nothing seemly or unseemly. I have not time to explain
all this. Zorzi is in great danger. For my father's sake I must warn
him, and I cannot stay out long. Not even Nella must know that I am
here. Be ready to let me out."

She almost ran down the corridor to the garden. The moon was already too
low to shine upon the walk, but the beams silvered the higher leaves of
the plane-tree, and all was clear and distinct. Even in her haste, she
glanced at the place where she had so often sat, before her life had
began to change.

There was a strong light in the laboratory and the window was open. She
looked in and saw Zorzi sitting in the great chair, his head leaning
back and his eyes closed. He was so pale and worn that, she felt a sharp
pain as her eyes fell on his face. His crutch was beside him, and he
seemed to be asleep. It was a pity to wake him, she thought, yet she
could not lose time; she had lost too much already in talking