She received no answer. Instead of which the three men put their heads together. “As we came by, I saw him by chance in front of his house; it is to be hoped that he has not yet returned to the city,” said one of them, and then left the pavilion. He returned after a short time with a fourth, whom the company did not seem to know. “Will you do us the kindness of going up with us to Treppi?” The spokesman addressed him. “You will be informed on the way what is the business in hand.” The other bowed silently, and they all left the pavilion. As they passed the kitchen, Fenice provided herself with some bread and took a few bites of it. Then she went on ahead of the company again and struck into the path leading to the mountain. She paid no attention to her companions, who were talking excitedly among themselves, but hurried on as fast as she could, so that they had to call her several times for fear they should lose her from their sight. Then she stopped and waited, and in hopeless brooding gazed out into empty space, her hand pressed close to her heart. So the evening wore on before they arrived at the height. The village of Treppi looked no livelier than usual. Only the faces of a few children stirred in curiosity at the windows, and a few old women appeared under their doorways as Fenice passed by with her companions. She spoke with no one, but went straight to her home, returning the neighbors’ greetings with a curt wave of the hand. Here before the door stood a group of men deep in conversation, servants were busy with packed horses, and contrabbandieri were going to and fro. When they saw the strangers coming, there was a panic among the people. They drew aside and let the company pass. Fenice exchanged a few words with Nina in the great hall and then opened the door of her room. In there, in the dimness, could be seen the wounded man, stretched out on the bed, and kneeling on the ground beside him a very old woman of Treppi. “How is he getting on, chiaruccia?” (chirurgeon) asked Fenice. “Not badly, praise the Madonna!” answered the old woman, and with sharp glances inspected the gentlemen who were entering behind the young girl. Filippo started up from a half sleep and his pale face suddenly glowed: “It is you!” said he. “Yes, I am bringing the gentlemen with whom you intended to fight, that they may see for themselves that you could not come. There’s a surgeon here, also.” The feeble glance of the man lying there stole slowly over the four strange faces. “He is not among them,” he said. “I do not know any of these gentlemen.”