t; and if we fall I shall
not return to it, for the reason that I shall have been killed. I
shall have much power if we win. When I say much power, I mean much
power in Messina, in that little corner of the world, and I wish to use
it worthily and well. I am afraid I should not have thought of it," he
went on, naively, as though he were trying to be quite fair, "had not
Father Paul pointed out to me what I should do, how I could raise the
people and stop the abuses which made them drive us from the island.
The people must be taxed less heavily, and the money must be spent for
them and not for us, on roads and harbors and schools, not at the
Palace on banquets and fetes. These are Father Paul's ideas, not
mine,--but now I make them mine." He rose and paced the length of the
little arbor, his hands clasped behind him and his eyes bent on the
ground. "Yes, that is what I mean to do," he said. "That is the way I
mean to live. And if we fail, I mean to be among those who are to die
on the fortifications of the capital, so that with me the Kalonay
family will end, and end fighting for the King, as many of my people
have done before me. There is no other way. For me there shall be no
more idleness nor exile. I must either live on to help my people, or I
must die with them." He stopped in his walk and regarded the girl
closely. "You may be thinking, it is easy for him to promise this, it
is easy to speak of what one will do. I know that. I know that I can
point back at nothing I have done that gives me any right to ask you to
believe me now. But I do ask it, for if you believe me--believe what I
say--it makes it easier for me to tell you why after this I must live
worthily. But you know why? You must know; it is not possible that
you do not know."

He sat down beside her on the bench, leaning forward and crushing his
hands together on his knee. "It is because I love you. Because I love
you so that everything which is not worthy is hateful to me, myself
most of all. It is the only thing that counts. I used to think I knew
what love meant; I used to think love was a selfish thing that needed
love in return, that it must be fed on love to live, that it needed
vows and tender speeches and caresses, or it would die. I know now
that when one truly cares, he does not ask whether the other cares or
not. It is what one gives that counts, not what one receives. You
have given me nothing--nothing--not a word nor a