ou."

A cry of joy was near bursting from the lips of Violetta; but obedient
to the eye of the monk, she turned to her lover, as if to learn his
decision. The expression of Don Camillo's face was the pledge of his
assent. Without speaking, he wrote hastily, with a pencil, a few words
on the envelope of a letter, and inclosing a piece of coin in its folds,
he moved with a cautious step to the balcony. A signal was given, and
all awaited in breathless silence the answer. Presently they heard the
wash of the water caused by the movement of a gondola beneath the
window. Stepping forward again, Don Camillo dropped the paper with such
precision that he distinctly heard the fall of the coin in the bottom of
the boat. The gondolier scarce raised his eyes to the balcony, but
commencing an air much used on the canals, he swept onward, like one
whose duty called for no haste.

"That has succeeded!" said Don Camillo, when he heard the song of Gino.
"In an hour my agent will have secured the felucca, and all now depends
on our own means of quitting the palace unobserved. My people will await
us shortly, and perhaps 'twould be well to trust openly to our speed in
gaining the Adriatic."

"There is a solemn and necessary duty to perform," observed the monk;
"daughters, withdraw to your rooms, and occupy yourselves with the
preparation necessary for your flight, which may readily be made to
appear as intended to meet the Senate's pleasure. In a few minutes I
shall summon you hither again."

Wondering, but obedient, the females withdrew. The Carmelite then made a
brief but clear explanation of his intention. Don Camillo listened
eagerly, and when the other had done speaking they retired together into
the oratory. Fifteen minutes had not passed, before the monk reappeared,
alone, and touched the bell which communicated with the closet of
Violetta. Donna Florinda and her pupil were quickly in the room.

"Prepare thy mind for the confessional," said the priest, placing
himself with grave dignity in that chair which he habitually used when
listening to the self-accusations and failings of his spiritual child.

The brow of Violetta paled and flushed again, as if there lay a heavy
sin on her conscience. She turned an imploring look on her maternal
monitor, in whose mild features she met an encouraging smile, and then
with a beating heart, though ill-collected for the solemn duty, but with
a decision that the occasion required, she knelt