dagger into a base heart, which he was unable to pierce in
any other way.

Tito had his hand on the door and was pulling it: it dragged against the
ground as such old doors often do, and Baldassarre, startled out of his
dreamlike state, rose from his sitting posture in vague amazement, not
knowing where he was. He had not yet risen to his feet, and was still
kneeling on one knee, when the door came wide open and he saw, dark
against the moonlight, with the rays falling on one bright mass of curls
and one rounded olive cheek, the image of his reverie--not shadowy--
close and real like water at the lips after the thirsty dream of it. No
thought could come athwart that eager thirst. In one moment, before
Tito could start back, the old man, with the preternatural force of rage
in his limbs, had sprung forward, and the dagger had flashed out. In
the next moment the dagger had snapped in two, and Baldassarre, under
the parrying force of Tito's arm, had fallen back on the straw,
clutching the hilt with its bit of broken blade. The pointed end lay
shining against Tito's feet.

Tito had felt one great heart-leap of terror as he had staggered under
the weight of the thrust: he felt now the triumph of deliverance and
safety. His armour had been proved, and vengeance lay helpless before
him. But the triumph raised no devilish impulse; on the contrary, the
sight of his father close to him and unable to injure him, made the
effort at reconciliation easier. He was free from fear, but he had only
the more unmixed and direct want to be free from the sense that he was
hated. After they had looked at each other a little while, Baldassarre
lying motionless in despairing rage, Tito said in his soft tones, just
as they had sounded before the last parting on the shores of Greece--

"_Padre mio_!" There was a pause after those words, but no movement or
sound till he said--

"I came to ask your forgiveness!"

Again he paused, that the healing balm of those words might have time to
work. But there was no sign of change in Baldassarre: he lay as he had
fallen, leaning on one arm: he was trembling, but it was from the shock
that had thrown him down.

"I was taken by surprise that morning. I wish now to be a son to you
again. I wish to make the rest of your life happy, that you may forget
what you have suffered."

He paused again. He had used the clearest and strongest words he could
think of. It was useless to say more, unt