"They made love to me, all three of them; but that dark man meant it, and the others not. It is very fortunate--it will give us time, which we need. Your Count Giraldi is in the country, as I told you he would be. There is no warrant. Come, we will be off. It will be perfectly safe while this confusion lasts. Dress yourself, put on your cloak, take your sword and pistol and come." "You, too, must be dressed, child." "I?" said she. "No, I am better as I am. I can be of more use." But she had a wiser thought, it appears; for by the time I was ready, she looked modestly enough. The plot, if plot it had been, had failed. I got out of the house unnoticed and unfollowed, Virginia with me in a hood. There were soldiers now in the Piazza, keeping back the crowd. The dead man lay there still, and his assailant wore shackles. Boys were racing in and out among the people singing the news which everybody knew. "Martirio d'un pio frate! Assassino per amore! Ohe! Ohe!" We went down the Via Belle Donne and crossed a small Piazza, taking our way, said Virginia, to the Ghetto, where she thought we might be perfectly safe for the rest of the day. There were so many hunted men there, said she, that in the confusion some must needs get away. The curtains were drawn over the barbers' shops, all doors were shut--it was the hour of repose. A few beggars sat in converse on the steps of San Michele, many were asleep in the shade, there were no passengers, no sbirri to be seen until we reached the Via Campidoglio. Here Virginia drew me back into the shadow of a great house. "That way is stopped. They are watching the market. Come, we will try something else." I admired her resourceful audacity, and followed whither she chose to lead. We ran up the Via Vecchietta without disturbance or alarm, and reached the church of San Lorenzo. We entered the cloister, which breathed the full summer, late as it was in the year. Bees hummed about the tree; the glossy leaves of the great magnolia seemed to radiate heat and glitter; above us the sky was of almost midsummer whiteness, and I could see the heat-waves flicker above the dome. "You shall hide in the Sagrestia to- night, if you will be ruled by me," Virginia said. "To-morrow morning before first Mass we will gain the Ghetto. I know a woman there who will keep us. My word, Don Francis, you little guess how near the Bargello you have been!" I think she was eager for my praises, poor soul, by the shy light in her eyes--a kind of preparation for the blushes with which she always met any warmth in my tone. If I gave her none it was because she had displeased me by cheapening herself to the sbirri. But I was soon ashamed of myself. I asked her, "When did you find out that the sbirri were waiting for me?"