She started at these words, searching his face; but he was calm and innocent of any hidden meaning. She forced a laugh as she said, twisting a curl of her hair round her finger, "The more reason to waste no time, my Lord Antonio."

Antonio shook his head and said lightly, "But I think he cannot take me by force, and I know of no man in all the Duchy that would betray me to a shameful death."

"And of no woman?" she asked, glancing at him from under drooping lashes.

"No, for I have wronged none; and women are not cruel."

"Yet there may be some, my lord, who call you cruel and therefore would be cruel in vengeance. A lover faithful as you can have but one friend among women."

"I know of none such," he laughed. "And surely the vengeance would be too great for the offence, if there were such."

"Nay, I know not that," said Venusta, frowning.

"I would trust myself to any woman, even though the Duke offered her great rewards, aye, as readily as I put faith in Lucia herself, or in you."

"You couple me with her?"

"In that matter most readily," said Antonio.

"But in nothing else?" she asked, flushing again in anger, for still his eyes were distant, and he turned them never on her.

"You must pardon me," he said. "My eyes are blinded."

For a moment she sat silent; then she said in a low voice, "But blind eyes have learned to see before now, my lord."

Then Antonio set his eyes on her; and now she could not meet them, but turned her burning face away. For her soul was in tumult, and she knew not now whether she loved or hated him, nor whether she would save or still betray him. And the trust he had in her gnawed her guilty heart.

So that a sudden pa.s.sion seized her, and she caught Antonio by the arm, crying, "But if a woman held your life in her hand and asked your love as its price, Antonio?"

"Such a thing could not be," said he, wondering.

"Nay, but it might. And if it were?"

And Antonio, marvelling more and more at her vehemence, answered, "Love is dear, and honour is dear; but we of Monte Velluto hold life of no great price."

"Yet it is a fearful and shameful thing to hang from the city wall."

"There are worse things," said he. "But indeed I count not to do it;"

and he laughed again.

Venusta sprang to her feet and paced the s.p.a.ce between the cave and the river bank with restless steps. Once she flung her hands above her head and clasped them; then, holding them clasped in front of her, she stood by Antonio and bent over him, till her hair, falling forward as she stooped, brushed his forehead and mingled with his fair locks; and she breathed softly his name, "Antonio, Antonio!" At this he looked up with a great start, stretching up his hand as though to check her; but he said nothing. And she, suddenly sobbing, fell on her knees by him; yet, as suddenly, she ceased to sob, and a smile came on her lips, and she leant towards him, saying again, "Antonio."

"I pray you, I pray you," said he, seeking to stay her courteously.

Then, careless of her secret, she flashed out in wrath, "Ah, you scorn me, my lord! You care nothing for me. I am dirt to you. Yet I hold your life in my hand!" And then in an instant she grew again softened, beseeching, "Am I so hideous, dear lord, that death is better than my love? For if you will love me, I will save you."

"I know not how my life is in your hands," said he, glad to catch at that and leave the rest of what Venusta said.

"Is there any path that leads higher up into the mountains?" she asked.

"Yes, there is one," said he; "but if need came now, I could not climb it with this wounded foot of mine."

"Luigi and the young men could carry you?"

"Yes; but what need? Tommasino and the band will return soon."

But she caught him by the hand, crying, "Rise, rise; call the men and let them carry you. Come, there is no time for lingering. And if I save you, my Lord Antonio----?" And a yearning question sounded in her voice.

"If you save me a thousand times, I can do nothing else than pray you spare me what is more painful than death to me," said he, looking away from her and being himself in great confusion.

"Come, come," she cried. "Call them! Perhaps some day----! Call them, Antonio."

But as she spoke, before Antonio could call, there came a loud cry from the wood behind the cave, the cry of a man in some great strait.

Antonio's hand flew to his sword, and he rose to his feet, and stood leaning on his sword. Then he cried aloud to Luigi. And in a moment Luigi and one of the youths came running; and Luigi, casting one glance at Venusta, said breathlessly, "My lord, Jacopo's foot slipped, and the poor fellow has fallen down a precipice thirty feet deep on to the rocks below, and we fear that he is sore hurt."

Venusta sprang a step forward, for she suspected (what the truth was) that Luigi himself had aided the slipping of Jacopo's foot by a sudden lurch against him; but she said nothing, and Antonio bade Luigi go quick and look after Jacopo, and take the other youth with him.

"But we shall leave you unguarded, my lord," said Luigi with a cunning show of solicitude.

"I am in no present danger, and the youth may be dying. Go speedily,"

said Antonio.

Luigi turned, and with the other youth (Tommasino told Niccolo his name, but Niccolo had forgotten it) rushed off; and even as he went, Venusta cried, "It is a lie! You yourself brought it about!" But Luigi did not hear her, and Antonio, left again alone, asked her, "What mean you?"

"Nay, I mean naught," said she, affrighted, and, when faced by his inquiring eyes, not daring to confess her treachery.

"I hope the lad is not killed," said Antonio.

"I care not for a thousand lads. Think of yourself, my lord!" And planning to rouse Antonio without betraying herself, she said, "I distrust this man Luigi. Is he faithful? The Duke can offer great rewards."

"He has served me well. I have no reason to mistrust him," said Antonio.

"Ah, you trust every one!" she cried in pa.s.sion and in scorn of his simplicity. "You trust Luigi! You trust me!"

"Why not?" said he. "But indeed now I have no choice. For they cannot carry both Jacopo and me up the path."

"Jacopo! You would stay for Jacopo?" she flashed out fiercely.

"If nothing else, yet my oath would bind me not to leave him while he lives. For we of the band are all bound to one another as brethren by an oath, and it would look ill if I, for whom they all have given much, were the first to break the oath. So here I am, and here I must stay,"

and Antonio ended smiling, and, his foot hurting him while he stood, sat down again and rested against the rock.

It was now late, and evening fell; and Venusta knew that the Duke's men should soon be upon them. And she sat down near Antonio and buried her face in her hands, and she wept. For Antonio had so won on her by his honour and his gentleness, and most of all by his loyal clinging to the poor boy Jacopo, that she could not think of her treachery without loathing and horror. Yet she dared not tell him; that now seemed worse to her than death. And while they sat thus, Luigi came and told Antonio that the youth was sore hurt and that they could not lift him.

"Then stay by him," said Antonio. "I need nothing."

And Luigi bowed, and, turning, went back to the other youth, and bade him stay by Jacopo, while he went by Antonio's orders to seek for some one to aid in carrying him. "I may chance," said he, "to find some shepherds." So he went, not to seek shepherds, but to seek the Duke's men, and tell them that they might safely come upon Antonio, for he had now none to guard him.

Then Antonio said to Venusta, "Why do you sit and weep?"