"That young Roman was very generous," Rafaello resumed after a while. "A few more like him, and she will think twice before she refuses again. How I bear it, I can't tell. Pettish she is, certainly, but oh, _signore_, lovely, lovely, like _un angiolin'_! It was from a nobleman--a foreigner, anyway, I suppose it is all one--that old 'Cina got her money, Lippo thinks. He hunted, too, Lippo says, and 'Cina's brother waited on him--he came from these parts. He took her brother north with him afterward, and well he did, too, for not many good Catholics would help him in what he did, and that brother was wicked enough, I suppose. She has little enough religion herself, the old woman--they say her money is for making peace with the church. For when it comes to the last rattle in the throat, _excellenz'_, the boldest is glad of a little help," said Rafaello knowingly. Night was on us now, and I, well knowing that the air was poisonous for me, could not bring myself to order the boat home. There, while Perseus burned above us and off toward Rome Orion hung steady as a lamp in a shrine, I lost myself in strange, deep thinking, and the marshes were the desert for me and Alif and Rafaello were the same, and I--who was I? What was I? "The _signore_ sleeps?" the man inquired timidly. "I think it is not good to sleep here. Shall we go back?" "I'm not sleeping, Rafaello, but I suppose we'd better turn. I heard all you said. And what had this wicked foreigner done?" "He stole a nun out of a holy convent, _excellenz'_," said Rafaello in a low voice. I felt my heart jump. "Near here?" I asked, as carelessly as I could. "Oh, no, far away--I do not know. Nobody knows. It was only 'Cina and his sister came from here. Mother of God, does the _signore_ think any woman born hereabouts would have blood enough for that? Look you, _signore_, she climbed down a tree and went with him in the night! A professed nun! Oh, no doubt she is burning now, that one! For no woman need take the veil, that is plain, but once taken, one is as good as married to God himself, and then to take a man after! Oh, no. She is certainly burning," concluded Rafaello with simple conviction. "But I thought you said she was alive and made baskets," I said, persistently stupid. "No, no, the _signore_ misunderstands. That is 'Cina, who went with her when they sailed away, being sent for by her brother. The wicked one died, of course, and 'Cina came back with all the money. She nearly died, herself, on the great ship. She ate nothing--not a bite nor a scrap--for four days, she was so sick." "He was an Englishman, I suppose?" "No. From the _signore's_ country. Not, of course, that they are all like that," Rafaello added politely, "but the truth must be told, he was."