He stooped to her, tenderly passing over her latest words.
"Weary yourself no more with the past," he said, gently; a gentleness that was sweet to her, like the lulling murmur of calm waters after the blaze and riot of the voluptuous colour of tropic forests. "We have to think of the present and the futuro. Every moment is precious; I have been too forgetful of your safety. You know better than I where your enemies lie, and how best they may be baffled. There is one who will not spare"
"There are hundreds who will not. The land is as a net for me."
"Then we must leave it"
"Is it so easy to leave such close-woven meshes?"
"Easy, no. Possible, yes."
"And how?"
"That we will speak of later; for the present moment you must have food and rest. There will surely be some charcoal-burner's or contadina's hut here somewhere; there is nothing hardly to fear from the peasantry in the forests or open country, and we must wait till nightfall for further flight. Stay an instant while I look around us"
"But you are not fit for any exertion! Your wound, your faintness"
