Pia’s story was soon told. She had no living relatives. She and her only brother had lived together until he had been led to join the revolutionary party. His arrest had soon followed through the betrayal of a false friend who had tried to make love to her and in revenge for his defeat had betrayed him. The brother, feeble and delicate in health, had been questioned as to the plans and names of his companions, and Pia declared that his refusal to speak had been punished with the lash. He had died in prison, and this had driven her into hot rebellion against those whom she termed his murderers. She had been hunted for by the police; but her arrest on the previous night had been an accident--she was caught as I had once been--in the thick of a fracas between the police and the people. She had not given her right name, but, feeling sure she would be identified, she looked forward to sharing the same fate as her brother. This fact explained the readiness of the Governor to liberate her. “You have no friends anywhere?” I asked. “I have only one friend in the world; but when my brother was arrested, he had to fly for his life. That was almost on the eve of the day we were to have been married,” she said simply. “And where is he?” “In America.” “That settles it then. You will go out to him.” She tossed up her hands. “Some day, perhaps.” “There is no ‘perhaps’ about it and no ‘some day.’ Do you know that if it had not been for you I should have had that lash this morning. If you had not mentioned the Governor’s name, I should not have known him and been able to do what I did. You will go out to New York by the first boat you can catch, and you will leave Lisbon for Paris to-day, and go to an address I will give you to wait in safety until that boat starts.” “Monsieur!” she cried tremulously. “I am your gaoler, remember, and responsible for you. You must let me persuade you to do what I say. And now, I must go. Hurry your preparations and return to me here;” and I gave her the address of my flat. “But I--I cannot accept your money, monsieur.” “But you can use it. I shall lend it to you, and when you are married in the new world, you will soon be able to repay me. There is a place for such a woman as you in the world and good work waiting to be done by you. You promise to come to me?” She could not speak. The tears, which no persecution, nor the horrors of the past night, nor even the almost certain prospect of the lash itself had been able to draw from her, were standing thick in her eyes as I left her and hurried to my rooms. I decided to go to Volheno as soon as I had changed into some decent clothes, and secure a pardon for Miralda in return for a full statement of what I knew, and then obtain his assistance in searching for her. There was a faint chance that Bryant would bring back some news of her from the vicontesse; but he did not arrive before I was ready to go to Volheno.