to her husband. 'And we will never speak of him, never, do you hear, my dear one? And I will not leave my room till he is gone. And do you now send me my maids . . . but stay: take away that thing!' she pointed to the pearl necklace, lying on a little bedside table, the necklace given her by Muzzio, 'and throw it at once into our deepest well. Embrace me. I am your Valeria; and do not come in to me till . . . he has gone.' Fabio took the necklace — the pearls he fancied looked tarnished — and did as his wife had directed. Then he fell to wandering about the garden, looking from a distance at the pavilion, about which the bustle of preparations for departure was beginning. Servants were bringing out boxes, loading the horses . . . but the Malay was not among them. An irresistible impulse drew Fabio to look once more upon what was taking place in the pavilion. He recollected that there was at the back a secret door, by which he could reach the inner room where Muzzio had been lying in the morning. He stole round to this door, found it unlocked, and, parting the folds of a heavy curtain, turned a faltering glance upon the room within.
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