He spoke afresh, rather to break that death-like silence, than for the sake of what he uttered.
"Veni's sea-nest is safe—safe, at least, for a little while; it lies yonder, through there, where a passage-way pierces the rocks. All that acanthus hides the entrance. It has sheltered many before; Fiesoli lay there once, in the first days of his proscription. Lousada doubts little that he can get a brig from Salerno, and steal away off westward three nights henee. It is the best chance. You will come?"
At last she lifted her head, and looked at him.
"But for Giulio Villaflor I would go—far sooner—back to the dungeon of Taverna."
His face paled; he knew her meaning—knew the unspeakable loathing and scorn of himself that made the severities of captivity and wretchedness look fairer in her sight than every recovered freedom shared with his companionship.
"There is no other alternative," he said, sullenly.
"You will come?"
"I will come."
He was once more victorious; and once more with victory stole over him a strange chill dread, as he who has brought down and netted the lioness of the plains will feel something of awe, something of fear,
