CHAPTER XXI.
Of the strange things told us by the wise woman.
"Tell me I am wicked; tell me I'm a fool," says Moll, clinging to my arm.
But I had no feeling now but pity and forgiveness, and so could only try to comfort her, saying we would make amends to Dario when we saw him next.
"I will go to him," says she. "For nought in the world would I have him yield to such a heartless fool as I am. I know where he lodges."
"Well, when we have eaten—"
"Nay; we must go this moment. I cannot be at peace till I have asked him to forgive. Come with me, or I must go alone."
Yielding to her desire without further ado, I fetched my hat and cloak, and, she doing likewise, we sallied out forthwith. Taking the side path by which Dario came and went habitually, we reached a little wicket gate, opening from the path upon the highway; and here, seeing a man mending the road, we asked him where we should find Anne Fitch, as she was called, with whom the painter lodged. Pointing to a neat cottage that stood by the wayside, within a stone's throw, he told us the "wise woman" lived there. We crossed over and knocked at the door, and a voice within bidding us come in, we did so.
There was a very sweet, pleasant smell in the room from
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