"Nor her portrait?" "Nor her portrait." Something in his manner convinced Paul that the old Palicar was speaking the truth, which only made the matter more perplexing. Despite the repudiation there was evidently some mystery connected with Barbara, a mystery known to Lambro and his consort. Paul intuitively felt that the Palicar's reticence could never be overcome, but he was not without hope of extracting the secret from Jacintha if he should have an opportunity of speaking with her alone. "Paul Cressingham," he murmured, when he found himself left in the dining-hall for the night, "you came to Dalmatia in quest of the strange, the romantic, the wild. I am beginning to think you have found them." He drew his chair to the fire, composed himself for sleep, and dreamed of Barbara till morning gleamed through the casement. CHAPTER III FEVER AND CONVALESCENCE Of the four occupants of Castel Nuovo the first to awaken in the morning was Jacintha, who, after dressing, proceeded immediately to Barbara's room. Having tapped at the door, first softly, then loudly, and receiving no answer, she ventured to enter. Barbara was awake, and talking to herself in a very odd manner. She took no notice of the approach of Jacintha, and the latter perceived at once that her forebodings were realized. Barbara, her dark hair lying in disorder on her pillow, a bright color burning in her cheek, the light of reason quenched in her eye, was in a high state of fever. She was not speaking in Italian, the language used by her the previous evening, but in another tongue altogether strange to Jacintha. The latter returned quickly to her own room to make it known to Lambro, who had just struggled into his finery. "What else could be expected after sleeping at night in a damp forest?" was his comment. "Fever! and she in that very chamber, too! By God, if the Master should return and find her there!" "Come and listen to her. She is talking in a strange language: she looks at me with piteous eyes as if making some request. Perhaps you can understand her." The old Palicar followed her to Barbara's chamber. His roving life in the Balkan Peninsula had given him a knowledge, more or less imperfect, of all the languages spoken from the Danube to Maina, but he failed to identify the speech of Barbara with any one of these. "It's not Romaic, nor Turkish, nor Albanian, nor--" "Listen!" said Jacintha, in a startled voice. Amid the plaintive flow of unintelligible sound there came at irregular intervals a recurrence of the same three syllables. "_Rav-en-na!_" murmured Jacintha with white lips. "She's thinking of Ravenna on the other side of the sea," said Lambro, indicating the direction with his hand. "Wishes to go there perhaps." "No, no. Have you forgotten? Ravenna! That's what the last one said when she raved. 'O Ravenna, what have you done?' were her words."