ness for submission. Here is the world
before us, and I feel that such a man, were he to pounce on me now,
might snap me up and lock me in a praying-box with small difficulty. And
I am the inveterate rebel! What is it nourishes you and keeps you always
aiming straight when you are alone? Once in Turin, I shall feel that I
am myself. Out of Italy I have a terrible craving for peace. It seems
here as if I must lean down to him, my beloved, who has left me."

Vittoria was in alarm lest Wilfrid should accost her while she drove
from gate to gate of the city. They passed under the archway of the gate
leading up to Schloss Tyrol, and along the road bordered by vines. An
old peasant woman stopped them with the signal of a letter in her hand.
"Here it is," said Laura, and Vittoria could not help smiling at her
shrewd anticipation of it.

"May I follow?"

Nothing more than that was written.

But the bearer of the missive had been provided with a lead pencil to
obtain the immediate reply.

"An admirable piece of foresight!" Laura's honest exclamation burst
forth.

Vittoria had to look in Laura's face before she could gather her will
to do the cruel thing which was least cruel. She wrote firmly:--"Never
follow me."

CHAPTER XXIX

EPISODES OF THE REVOLT AND THE WAR--THE TOBACCO-RIOTS--RINALDO
GUIDASCARPI

Anna von Lenkenstein was one who could wait for vengeance. Lena punished
on the spot, and punished herself most. She broke off her engagement
with Wilfrid, while at the same time she caused a secret message to be
conveyed to him, telling him that the prolongation of his residence in
Meran would restore him to his position in the army.

Wilfrid remained at Meran till the last days of December.

It was winter in Milan, turning to the new year--the year of flames
for continental Europe. A young man with a military stride, but out
of uniform, had stepped from a travelling carriage and entered a
cigar-shop. Upon calling for cigars, he was surprised to observe the
woman who was serving there keep her arms under her apron. She cast a
look into the street, where a crowd of boys and one or two lean men had
gathered about the door. After some delay, she entreated her customer to
let her pluck his cloak halfway over the counter; at the same time she
thrust a cigar-box under that concealment, together with a printed song
in the Milanese dialect. He lifted the paper to read it, and found it
tough as Russ. She translated so