ed, absolutely alone in all that chattering, grimacing
crowd. The Duchess of Nona! This consideration alone moved him to real
pity--for to be great and unfortunate has a freakish way of touching
your heart--it moved him quietly towards her, to whisper in her ear--

"Madonna"--(and Heaven! how she started), "Madonna, what you need now is
the courage of your race. But courage, I well know, comes only by
confidence, and confidence is what I can give you. Trust for trust; will
you hear me?"

But she looked piteously at him, as if she had been found out, and put
her hands to her ears.

"I dare not hear you! I dare not! How can you speak to me when I have
never asked--never thought? Ah, leave me, Grifone. I have not heard you
yet: ask me not--but go!"

It was she that went, that hurried from him, stumbling in her haste,
like a hunted thing. He could see no more of her that night, so with a
shrug turned to his quiet amusement. There were women there pleasant
enough. It was true that he wanted but one woman superlatively; but it
was eminently Grifone's maxim that, failing that which you need, you
should take that which you can get.

The last stage in the education of Molly, Amilcare found must positively
be left to the Secretary.

On the night before Duke Cesare's arrival, when every other preparation
had been made, Grifone came into his master's room, late. He said
nothing, nor got any greeting; but he placed a little phial on the
table, and waited. Amilcare looked at it, did not touch it. It was a
very small phial, half full of a clear liquid.

"You prepared it yourself, Grifone?"

Grifone nodded pleasantly.

"Then I may rest assured--?"

"You may, my lord."

"I will ask you to make all arrangements, Grifone. When the time comes
you will take the cup to Madonna Duchessa, with a hint of so much as may
be necessary to provide against mischances. Will this be done?"

"Punctually and surely, Excellence." The Secretary retired with his
bottle.

Amilcare sat on with a tight smile which neither waxed nor waned, but
seemed frozen on his face. He may thus have sat for two or three hours,
his eyes fixed on a point at the table's edge. That point, whatever it
was, a speck of dust, may be, seemed to grow and grow till it was
monstrous and a burden intolerable to endure. Amilcare, with an effort,
stretched out his hand and cuffed at it. He knocked a book off the table
by this means, then started, then swore at himself. Tw