Then this room, this couch, sinking down on it, very tired, with eyes

smiling and half closed, and nearly gone already into the mists of

sleep. And then the Baron at her feet, pressing his lips to her wrist

where the pulse was beating, kissing her arms and shoulders.... "Oh,

dear! You are mad! I must not listen to you." And then burning words of

love and passion: "My wife! My wife that is to be!" And then the call of

her aunt from the adjoining chamber, "Roma!"

The sobbing sounds from outside broke in on Roma's nightmare, and when

the chain of memory linked on again it was morning in her vision, and

the Countess was comforting her in a whimpering voice:

"After all, God is merciful, and things that happen to everybody can be

atoned for by prayer and penance. Besides, the Baron is a man of honour,

and the poor maniac cannot last much longer."

The sobbing sounds in the snow, the cries far away, the crackle of the

rifle-shots, the rumble of the thunder broke in again, and the elements

outside seemed to whirl round her in the tempest of her trouble. For a

moment she lifted her head and heard voices in the next room.

The Baron was still there, and from time to time, as he wrote his

despatches, messengers came to take them away, to bring replies, and to

deliver the latest news of the night. The populace had risen in all

parts of the city, and the soldiers had charged them. There had been

several misadventures and many arrests. The large house of detention by

St. Andrea delle Frate was already full, but the people continued to

hold out. They had disconnected the gas at the gasometer and cut the

electric wires, and the city was plunged in darkness.

"Tell the electric light company to turn on the flashlight from Monte

Mario," said the Baron.

And when the voices ceased in the drawing-room there came the deadened

sound of the Countess's frightened treble behind the wall.

"O Holy Virgin, full of grace, save me! It would be a sin to let me die

to-night! Holy Virgin, see! I have given thee two more candles. Art

thou not satisfied? Save me from murder, Mother of God."

Roma saw another phase of her vision. It was filled with a new face,

which made her at once happy and unhappy, proud and ashamed. Hitherto

the only condition on which she had been able to live with the secret of

her life was that she should think nothing about it. Now she was

compelled to think, and she was asking herself if it was her duty to

confess.




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