steps in a carefully reasoned argument.
Hers was that state of absorbent lassitude when the words and acts put
to you sink into the floating mass of your weakness. The late shocking
grief hovers felt about you: a buzz of talk, a rain of caresses, hold
the spectre off, and so are serviceable--but no more. The cold cheek,
the clay-cold lips, the long, lax limbs of the poor doll were at his
service. She saw nothing through her dim eyes, made no motion with her
lips, sobbed rather than breathed, endured tearlessly rather than lived
awake her misery. Misery is not the word: she had been sent down to hell
and had come back dumb to earth, neither knowing why such torment was
hers, nor thinking how to fly a second questioning. Had she been capable
of a wish, a prayer, or of begging a favour, who can doubt what it would
have been? Death, oh, death!

Grifone's face was so near to hers, that not to kiss her would have been
an affectation; but when he began to make plans, he released her, sat
up, and spoke as though he were discussing theory.

"There is very much to do, my love," said he, "but I think I see my way
clear. It is instant flight, to begin with, for one of the household may
be here any moment, or Don Cesare return. Such an one would have but to
open the window and cry, 'Treason, ho!' to secure our being torn to
pieces--not for any love the Nonesi bear that carrion; but because not
one of them could resist the chance of kicking his benefactors. It is
reasonable, after all. Instant flight, my dear, if you please. But
whither? you will ask. Luckily I can take you to a pretty safe place, of
which I have the key and _custode's_ goodwill in my pocket. You know the
Rocca del Capitan Vecchio outside the Latin Gate? We go there for our
terrestrial paradise. Shawl your lovely head, therefore, stoop your
glorious shoulders, and obey me exactly."

He got up as he made an end of speech, drew her gently to her feet, and
showed her how to muffle herself in the hood of a man's cloak. He bound
the rest of the garment about her waist with his belt, pinned up her
skirt and petticoat as high as her knees, and gave her his own
stockings and shoes. Then he helped himself to his dead master's pair,
to his sword and velvet gown; and--

"Now," he said, "we may start by the privy garden."

He led the way. It was a golden afternoon of late summer; the shadows
were lengthening as the air grew tired and cool, all the place was full
of that va