“Jesus! Mary!” We heard Donna Marianna moan. Roberto raised his wife’s hand to his lips. “You forgive me,” he said, “the means I took to defend you?” And turning to Andrea he added slowly: “I declare my wife innocent and my honor satisfied. You swear to stand by my decision?” What Andrea stammered out, what hissing serpents of speech Gemma’s clinched teeth bit back, I never knew--for my eyes were on Faustina, and her face was a wonder to behold. She had let herself be led across the room like a blind woman, and had listened without change of feature to her husband’s first words; but as he ceased her frozen gaze broke and her whole body seemed to melt against his breast. He put his arm out, but she slipped to his feet and Marianna hastened forward to raise her up. At that moment we heard the stroke of oars across the quiet water and saw the Count’s boat touch the landing-steps. Four strong oarsmen from Monte Isola were to row him down to Iseo, to take horse for Milan, and his servant, knapsack on shoulder, knocked warningly at the terrace window. “No time to lose, excellency!” he cried. Roberto turned and gripped my hand. “Pray for me,” he said low; and with a brief gesture to the others ran down the terrace to the boat. Marianna was bathing Faustina with happy tears. “Look up, dear! Think how soon he will come back! And there is the sunrise--see!” Andrea and Gemma had slunk away like ghosts at cock-crow, and a red dawn stood over Milan. * * * * *