ith round-eyed amazement.

"But, signora, how can you--"

"There, Antonino has disappeared under the trees! We shall see him in a
minute among the rocks. I'll go to meet him."

And she went quickly to the archway, and looked down the path where the
lizards were darting to and fro in the sunshine. Almost directly Antonino
reappeared, a small boy climbing steadily up the steep pathway, with a
leather bag slung over his shoulder.

"Antonino!" she called to him. "Is it a telegram?"

"Si, signora!" he cried out.

He came up to her, panting, opened the bag, and gave her the folded
paper.

"Go and get something to drink," she said. "To eat, too, if you're
hungry."

Antonino ran off eagerly, while Hermione tore open the paper and read
these words in French:

"Monsieur Artois dangerously ill; fear may not recover; he wished
you to know.

MAX BERTON, Docteur Medecin, Kairouan."

Hermione dropped the telegram. She did not feel at all surprised. Indeed,
she felt that she had been expecting almost these very words, telling her
of a tragedy at which the letter she still held in her hand had hinted.
For a moment she stood there without being conscious of any special
sensation. Then she stooped, picked up the telegram, and read it again.
This time it seemed like an answer to that unuttered prayer in her heart:
"Give me an opportunity to show my gratitude." She did not hesitate for
a moment as to what she would do. She would go to Kairouan, to close the
eyes of her friend if he must die, if not to nurse him back to life.

Antonino was munching some bread and cheese and had one hand round a
glass full of red wine.

"I'm going to write an answer," she said to him, "and you must run with
it."

"Si, signora."

"Was it from Africa, signora?" asked Lucrezia.

"Yes."

Lucrezia's jaw fell, and she stared in superstitious amazement.

"I wonder," Hermione thought, "if Maurice--"

She went gently to the bedroom. He was still sleeping calmly. His
attitude of luxurious repose, the sound of his quiet breathing, seemed
strange to her eyes and ears at this moment, strange and almost horrible.
For an instant she thought of waking him in order to tell him her news
and consult with him about the journey. It never occurred to her to ask
him whether there should be a journey. But something held her back, as
one is held back from disturbing the slumber of a tired child, and she
returned to the sit