"'"I have never said they would kill you, my son. I have said only this--that you will have a rare good supper of _pasta_ and meat, and a rare good flask of red wine, before you go to rest. And let me give you this word of advice. Before you go to rest at the Castello del bel Riposo, take a good look at the sunlight if it be day, at the stars of heaven if it be night, for you will never see them again, for all your eyes will remain in your head, even as now." "'Sometimes, _O Illustrissima_, when I wake in the night, it comes back to me, that moment. And there below me is the musical tramp of the horses' feet on the bare road, and I hear the voice of my friend sing again a little phrase of song--_che ognuno tirasse l' acqua al suo mulino_--and I heed him very little, though I can read in his words a wicked belief about my most guiltless and beloved treasure. I see the sweet light where the sun was, through the leaves of the olive-trees that make a _reticella_ (network) against the sky; and the great still star they never hide for long, rustle how they may! But I can but half enjoy the light that is dying, and the star that burns the more the more it dies; for the pain is great in my shoulder where the blow struck, and in my head and eyes, and my body is sore at its bonds and stiff from being held in one position. And yet I may never see that star again--the star we called our own, my Maddalena and I, and made believe God made for us, saying "this star I make for Giacinto _e la sua sorellaccia_"--neither that star, nor its bath of light, nor the sun that will make all Heaven glad to-morrow, unseen by me. For I can guess the meaning of what my friend has said....'" Here a little was quite illegible. But no conversation ensued on that account, both reader and listeners wanting to hear what followed. Mr. Pelly read on:-- "'Now I call this man my friend, and, _Eccellenza_, you will see, as I tell my tale, that this is no derisive speech. I think that what showed me he was not all hostility to me in his heart was that he would--I felt sure--if left to himself, have granted the boon I would have asked of him, and fought fairly with me to the death of one or other. So there was love between us of a soldierly sort. And I, too, could see how it had grown. For I had half suspected him of not showing all the alacrity he might have done with his mace when I had my grip on the Old Devil's throat....'" Madeline interrupted: "It's perfectly maddening! What wouldn't I give to know what it's all about?" "I'll tell you presently the Herr Professor's conjectural history," said Mr. Pelly. But this did not satisfy the young lady. "Tell us now! I'm the sort that can't wait," said she. The benignity of Mr. Pelly's face as he replied to her was a sight to be seen.