morrow he might bribe, or stupify the Umbrian with drink, till he reached his confidence; for the present there was nothing for it, without exciting suspicion, except to remain in the sleeping-place allotted him, and labour afresh for them with the dawn.
The little slit, unglazed and narrow as a hand's breadth, through which the luminous silver moon poured down, was high above his head; he swung himself upward and looked out; the waters and marshy plains, with the dark belt of cypress afar off, slept calmly in the white and glistening night; all was very still, only broken by the cry of a waterbird, the rush of an aziola, or the hoot of an owl. As he gazed, the outer bolt of the stone door of his cell was drawn sharply and swiftly; he dropped to his feet with an oath.
"Do not blaspheme, my son," said the Umbrian's voice through a chink. "It is only our custom with strangers."
He was a prisoner for the whole length of the summer night.
Well—the prison was hers; it was something to share it.
He undressed, laid bis pistols ready loaded by his side, drank thirstily of the cool water with which the pitcher bad been re-filled, and threw himself on
