"Let me stop the night here at least," begged the old woman, and approached the man a step nearer. "Where shall I rest my old head?--how can I collect my little things?" "Go!" re-echoed the man;--"_your_ things! you have nothing but what I have given you. Go, or"-- He raised his hand. The old woman trembled. Muttering a confused medley of curses, prayers, and threats, she glided from the house. "Caterina," said Bianchi slowly, without looking up, "it is over! After to-day you see me not again! Do not ask me why, and do not be unhappy at the idea that you have made me angry. I have only been so with that she-fiend who has just gone from us. You are good, and will be happy, even though you do not see me again. Another will come, and will knock at your door--the same who sat by your side at the races. Open to him, greet him and love him--and be true to him! You must not tell him that you know me; you must never utter my name before him. But keep still at home, as you have hitherto done; and, should you chance to go out, avoid that part of the town that lies below by the Tiber. Promise me all this, Caterina!" He waited for an answer. Instead of it, there came a sob from the corner that cut through his very heart. "Do not weep!" he said, as calmly as he could; "You hear that I do not go from you in anger, and you will be happy. All will be better for you than it has been hitherto. You will love the other better than you have loved me!" "Never!" groaned from the lips of the poor girl. Her sobs prevented her saying more. But in that one sound spoke out a true vehement avowal of boundless affection. Bianchi's darkened brow brightened. He looked up joyously--turned round and approached her. Beside herself, she rushed towards him, and he received her as she pressed him unconsciously to her arms. He kissed her forehead. "Hush!" he said, "Thou and I--we must collect ourselves. It is now as well as it was, and better. But it cannot remain so. It cannot or I shall be lost. Come!" he said, "make a bundle of your best and favourite things, and what you will want for a journey. Hasten, Caterina. I think that we shall see each other again--but not here. Have patience." She looked at him with her large eyes. She understood nothing--she anticipated nothing--mechanically she did as he directed her. "Where are we going?" she asked, timidly, when all was ready. "Come," he said. He extinguished the light. The bird in its cage fluttered eagerly against the wires. The guitar gave out a saddened note as he struck against it in the darkness. Both their hearts beat violently--and so they went. CHAPTER VI.