her harm, though her window was closed, he threw his cigar away, and stood there leaning against a tree and repenting in bitterness of heart.
An hour passed, but he could not go in; and, since his steps might disturb her and bring back those perilous startings, he went off to another part of the garden and paced to and fro under the trees.
Presently he became aware of a shadow lurking near him. Was she worse? Was she dying? Had some one come to summon him to her? He called out sharply, "Who is there?"
Michele's form detached itself from the shadows, and Michele's voice uttered a hesitating apology for intruding: "But they all said you felt so bad, colonel, I thought I would venture to tell you," he said.
"What is it? Out with it! What has happened?" cried his master.
"Nothing," answered Michele. "There's nothing the matter. Mariù says, colonel, that the signora duchessa has got no more fever than I have,—that it's nothing but 'sterici."
"What!" exclaimed D'Rubiera.
"If you'd seen her crying and laughing all at once this afternoon, colonel!" said Michele persuasively. "And she kicked over Giacomo so that he rolled on the grass."
There was a moment of dead silence. The tall shadowy man and the short shadowy man stood opposite each other under the trees, but neither saw the other's face. Then D'Rubiera took a step toward the house. "Thank you, Michele," he said quietly. "And I think I'll go to bed."
The next morning, before allowing any account of her state of health to be given, the duchess asked for news of her husband. Rosina had seen him, and reported him as having quite recovered from his fright of the evening before and being in a very cheerful mood of mind, apparently.
"He sends you his compliments, and hopes that you feel better, madama. He says that he does not think there is any danger of a fever."
"He doesn't believe that I am sick, then!" cried the lady.
"I don't believe he thinks you are in any danger, madama," replied the maid, who spoke to her mistress with far less ceremony than she felt obliged to use with her mistress's husband. "I said last night that you had better see the signer duca and be reconciled while he was in the mood. He is not one of those who stay on their knees a long time begging."
The duchess had told the whole story to her maid the evening before. In fact, she had talked the matter of the castle over with Rosina before speaking to her husband.
"It is the influence of that girl which makes him so indifferent to me!" she exclaimed. "I saw, in spite of his coolness, that he was interested in her. She shall leave the castle! If I knew where a letter would reach her, I would write to her to-day."
"The Suor Benedetta could find out for you," Rosina said.
"So she can! You shall go there and ask her this very morning. Of course she is not to mention my name, you know."
Animated by the prospect of punishing her husband and having her own way, the lady was able to rise. But she remained in her chamber.
At noon, a message came from the duke asking if he should visit her. A note was given in reply.
"You must feel, Roberto," she wrote, "that it is impossible for me to meet you with any pleasure, or even calmness, at present. I ask as a favor that you will go away for a while, and go without seeing me. Make as many compliments as you please to save appearances, and explain as you like. I shall not utter a word on the subject."
"It's a very good note," he said, and read it through a second time. "A very good note. I wish she would always express herself with as much dignity." He thought it over a moment. Then, "I wonder if anybody helped her to write it! Who knows? There is no one here but the chaplain who
