Raniero Frangipani regarded them for a moment in silence, tapped with his foot, like one to whom a new idea has come, then with a long low sound, very much like a snarl, he vanished in the gloom. [Illustration: "Ilaria had interposed herself between the two"] Francesco turned to the girl who still clung to him. She knew the look on his face, but there was in it an expression she had never seen before, penetrating, sorrowful, crushed. His breath came and went in gasps, yet he spoke not. "Francesco," she said after a pause, while she anxiously watched the play of light and shadow on his face. "Listen! Messer Raniero seems to bear you a grudge. Promise me to avoid a meeting with him! He has said much to me, thinking thereby to win my favor. He now knows,--let that suffice!" "He has told you much? What has he told you?" "You have not told me what took you away so suddenly!" He held up his hand deprecatingly. "A secret mission of the Viceroy's," he said blushing, as he stammered the falsehood. Yet he could not bring himself to avow even to the girl he loved best on earth, his father's shame. The pain of life could not be made less, by adding more pain. "Trust me!" he begged. "We have always felt together,--I have never deceived you!" "Until now!" her voice sounded shrill and strained. "No! Ilaria, no! Were it mine to tell,--there is no secret for you in this heart of mine. But the matter concerns another! Perhaps--in time--" He broke off and closed his eyes. "I crave my youth!" cried Ilaria unheeding. "My youth, and the joy of life which comes but once. If one will not give me what I seek--I look elsewhere, if so I may!" Her lips trembled. "Why do you look at me so?" she continued impatiently after an instant's pause. "Before you came into the wood I saw your eyes, and I see them still in the dark! What was the object of that mission?" Francesco drooped his head, but made no reply. In a clover leaf at his feet a dew-drop mirrored a star, breaking the light into a thousand tiny shafts. "I will give you your youth," he spoke at last in a low strained voice that sounded like a broken sob. Ilaria laid her hand on his and spoke low. Her light soft fingers were fevered. "What do you mean?" "It is a simple matter!" She gazed at him startled, terrified. Suddenly she threw her arms about him. "Forgive me! Forgive!" He pressed her to his heart and kissed her dark eyes. Then slowly they retraced their steps towards the castle. When Francesco reached his chamber, the moon was slowly sinking through the azure night-sky. He noted it not. It seemed to him he was standing in the midst of a great void. All life about him had died. And he stood there, digging his own grave, and, as the last spade of turf flew up, the stifling night of annihilation swallowed up the universe. CHAPTER V WAVES OF DESTINY