"I cannot say; but it is not possible. But I do love you much, W-Will, in another way. Come here, W-Will," she resumed suddenly; "it is dark, and we are engaged, you know." "Oh, Rus----" "In the eyes of the Sicilian custom, I mean; and you are trying, and I am trying for the other also." "But if you are trying, Rusidda----" "And I pray to my Saint also, who is very powerful--Santa Rosalia herself, whose blessed image I gave you. And W-Will, dear," she continued, divining his disappointment by contact--it was too dark to see even the outline of his face--"if you had asked me on Monday night I should have promised you, and been miserable for ever afterwards, for I could not have been unfaithful to an English husband: the English are not like us." Will said nothing, but again she divined, and continued: "You hate to hear a woman talk like that; but women think like that here, and I could not have done it with you." "Oh, why didn't I ask you?" he said desperately. She answered, "Because you were too noble a gentleman. You thought that I should construe your offer into pity, and pity into a belief in my guilt. But when you knelt before me and just believed in my innocence, I would have given my soul to be tortured in hell for you; and I would die now for you any minute of my life. If my living makes you unhappy for your promised spouse, and my death will help you to forget me, I will walk through that porthole there, and the dark water will tell no tales, and it will only be cold for a little minute!" "I would leap after you; I should not care to live without you, and I am not allowed to go back to the city and be one of those who have to die fighting the French. Whether the city resists or not, those black villains' thirst for slaughter will not very easily be appeased." "Oh, W-Will," the girl said, nestling close to him (I remember his description of all this time so well), "the Sicilians hate the French for ever--we have a vendetta with them until the end of the world, which was begun at the Vespers of Santo Spirito, hundreds of years ago." She was very grateful, very sympathetic, and made no effort to disengage herself from the man she would have been so glad to love if she only could have forced herself. It was pitch dark, and, except for the watch, they had the quarter-deck to themselves. Large parties of the Vanguards were on boat-duty, helping the fugitives; and the Neapolitans, on board a ship in which they had to make a voyage, hated even to hear the sea, and remained below crowded together. They might have waited longer had not they heard the cheery voice of the Admiral, who was in excellent spirits, as My Lady was exerting her charm and power of entertaining to the utmost in order to divert people from the situation, which was miserable enough. It seemed as if the whole Court had crowded themselves into the Admiral's state-room.