t he could look upon it in any other
way.

She dreaded to think of the weeks that might pass before he returned. He
had spoken of making a long journey and she knew that he had gone
southward to Rimini to please the great Sigismondo Malatesta, who had
heard of Beroviero's stained glass windows and mosaics in Florence and
Naples, and would not be outdone in the possession of beautiful things.
But no one knew more than that. She was only sure that he would come
back some time before her intended marriage, and there would still be
time to break it off. The thought gave her some comfort, and toward
morning she fell into an uneasy sleep. Of all who had played a part in
that eventful night she slept the least, for she had the most at stake;
her fair name, Zorzi's safety, her whole future life were in the
balance, and she was sure that Giovanni would send for her in the
morning.

She awoke weary and unrefreshed when the sun was already high. She
scarcely had energy to clap her hands for Nella, and after the window
was open she still lay listlessly on her pillow. The little woman looked
at her rather anxiously but said nothing at first, setting the big dish
with fruit and water on the table as usual, and busying herself with her
mistress's clothes. She opened the great carved wardrobe, and she hung
up some things and took out others, in a methodical way.

"Where is your silk mantle?" she asked suddenly, as she missed the
garment from its accustomed place.

"I do not know," answered Marietta quite naturally, for she had expected
the question.

Her reply was literally true, since she had every reason for believing
that Giovanni had brought it back with him in the night, but could have
no idea as to where he had put it. Nella began to search anxiously,
turning over everything in the wardrobe and the few things that hung
over the chairs.

"You could not have put it into the chest, could you?" she asked,
pausing at the foot of the bed and looking at Marietta.

"No. I am sure I did not," answered the girl. "I never do."

"Then it has been stolen," said Nella, and her face darkened wrathfully.

"How is such a thing possible?" asked Marietta carelessly. "It must be
somewhere."

This appeared to be certain, but Nella denied it with energy, her eyes
fixed on Marietta almost as angrily as if she suspected her of having
stolen her own mantle from herself.

"I tell you it is not," she replied. "I have looked everywhere. It has