ss his forehead and
looked at Titian vaguely. "What is it?" he repeated.

Titian fell back a step. "That's what I came to find out," he said
frankly. He was more startled than he cared to show.

"What has happened, Giorgione?" His tone was gentle, as if speaking to a
child, and he took him by the shoulder to lead him to a seat.

For a moment the man resisted. Then he let himself be led, passively,
and sank back in the chair with a hoarse sigh. He looked about the
studio as if seeking something--and afraid of it. "She's gone!" he
whispered.

Titian started. "No!"

Giorgione laughed harshly. "Fled as a bird," he said gayly, "a bird that
was snared." He hummed a few bars of the song and stopped, his gaze
fixed on vacancy. A great shudder broke through him, and he buried his
face in his hands. There was no movement but the heave of his shoulders,
and no sound. The light upon the floor danced in the stillness.

Titian's eyes rested on it, perplexed. He crossed the room swiftly and
touched a bell. He gave an order and waited with his hand on his
friend's shoulder till the servant returned.

"Drink this," he said firmly, bending over him. He was holding a long,
slender glass to his lips.

The man quaffed it--slowly at first, then eagerly. "Yes, that is good!"
he said as he drained the glass. "I tremble here." He laid his hand on
his heart. "And my hand is strange." He smiled--a wan, wintry smile--and
looked at his friend with searching eyes.

"Where have they gone?" he demanded.

Titian shook his head. "How should I know?"

"He said he was going to you."

"Zarato?" Titian started. "For the portrait--He will be there!"

Giorgione broke into a harsh laugh. "No portrait for Zarato!" He said it
exultantly.

"What do you mean!"

"He bears a beauty mark." He laughed again.

"You did not----?"

Giorgione glanced cunningly about the studio. His big face worked and
his eyes were flushed. He laid his hand on his lips.

"Hush!" he said. "It is a secret--I--she--branded him with this." A
piece of heavy iron lay on the sill--the wood near it blackened and
charred. He took it up fondly.

"Look!" He pointed to the fire-worn end.

Titian shrank back in horror. "You are mad!" he said.

Giorgione shook his head sadly. "I wish I were mad ... my eyes have
seen too much." He rubbed his hand across them vaguely.

"Sleep--" he murmured. "A little sleep." The potion was beginning to
take effect.

Titian laid him on the