Then they would have had an excuse for bringing an action against me, and letting it drag on as long as they thought fit." "The wretches! The ungodly sinners!" interrupted the girl, and clenched her fists. "Nothing then was left me but to give myself up to the contrabandists at Porretta. They tell me we shall reach Pistoja to-morrow morning early. The duel is fixed for the afternoon in a garden outside the town." Suddenly she seized his hand in hers. "Do not go down there, Filippo," she said. "They will murder you." "Certainly they will, my child. But how do you know?" "I feel it here and--here!" and she pointed with her finger to her brow and heart. "You, too, are a fortune-teller, an enchantress," he continued, with a smile. "Yes, child, they will murder me. My adversary is the best shot in the whole of Tuscany. They have done me the honour of confronting me with a goodly enemy. Well, I shall not disgrace myself. But who knows whether it will be all fair play? Who can tell? Or can your magic arts foretell that too? Yet what would be the use, child! it would make no difference." After a short silence he went on: "You must banish entirely from your thoughts any further encouragement of your former foolish love. Perhaps all this has come about so that I might not leave this world without first setting you free, free from yourself, poor child, and your unlucky constancy. Perhaps, too, you know, we should have suited each other badly. You have been true to quite a different Filippo, a young fellow full of vain desires and without a care save those of love. What would you do with such a brooding, solitary being as I?" He drew near to her, muttering the last words as he walked up and down, and would have taken her hand, but was startled and shocked to see the expression of her face. All trace of softness had left her features, and her lips were ashy pale. "You do not love me," she said, slowly and huskily, as though another voice were speaking in her, and she were listening to hear what was meant. Then she pushed away his hand with a scream; the little flames of the lamp were nearly blown out, and outside the dog began suddenly barking and howling furiously. "You do not love me, no, no!" she exclaimed, like one beside herself. "Would you rather go to the arms of death than come to me? Can you meet me like this after seven years, only to say farewell? Can you speak thus calmly of your death, knowing it will be mine too? Better had it been for me had my eyes been blinded before they saw you again, and my ears deaf before they heard the cruel voice by which I live and die. Why did the dog not tear you to pieces before I knew that you had come to rend my heart? Why did your foot not slip on the chasm's brink? Alas! woe is me! Madonna, save me!"