Barletti in some astonishment. Veronica
interrupted him, speaking very fast, and in
a low tone, and glancing round nervously
to see that they were not observed.

"Yes; no doubt he would prefer that
you should go away. But I prefer that you
should stay. I beg you to stay. He has
a whim to disguise that he is ill. He will
not have a doctor. He has given Paul
orders to keep it secret from the servants.
It may be nothing, but I am so
inexperienced in illness, I cannot judge. I am
alone here. I am afraid of—of—of the
responsibility. You must remain and watch
him, and let me know what you think.
And—listen—do not allow it to be seen
that I have urged you to stay! Do not
admit that I have said a word to you
about his illness. I rely on you,
remember! And, above all, say no syllable
to Paul."

She turned away, re-entered the saloon
by the glass door, and ran swiftly and
softly up the stairs, leaving Barletti in a
condition of considerable perplexity.

He remained in the garden wandering
up and down until the dinner-bell sounded.
Then, as he was going into the house across
the paved courtyard, a servant who had
been sent to seek him, met him, and
preceded him into the dining saloon. It was
a vast vaulted hall, whose dreariness was
on too great a scale to be much mitigated
by such French upholstery as had been
hastily employed to decorate it for Sir John
Gale's use.

The table was as big as the deck of a
small yacht. The wax lights abundantly
set forth on a huge black walnut-wood
sideboard, and on the tall marble mantelpiece,
and on the table itself, seemed to
glimmer with hopeless feebleness, as though
they were conscious of their inability to
illuminate the vague dimness of the space.
There was a little island of light in the
centre of the table–cloth, but it seemed
only to enhance the surrounding gloom.

Veronica was already in the dining-hall
when Barletti entered it. Paul, too, was
there, officiating as butler at the sideboard.

Barletti bowed profoundly, and saluted
Veronica as though he then saw her for the
first time that evening.

"Good evening, prince," said she, with
a careless, haughty bend of the head.

In her rich evening dress, and with her
composed disdainful grace, she seemed a
very different woman from her who had
spoken to him in the loggia half an hour ago.

A cover was laid for Sir John in his
accustomed place. Barletti observed it, and
stood for a moment after Veronica was
seated, as though waiting for some one.
"And Gale?" he said, interrogatively.

"Oh, Sir John will not dine with us.
He felt a little tired with the heat this
afternoon. We shall find him after dinner
in the salottino. Sit down, prince."

"You permit? I am not de trop?"

"No, no. I am glad of the sight of a
human face. This hall is the gloomiest,
dreariest place! I have never quite got
over an idea that it is haunted, and I find
myself sometimes making out mysterious
shapes in the dark corners. One evening
in the summer, when the windows were
wide open, a great bat flew in, and almost
brushed my face! Ugh!"

They ate their dinner under Paul's grave
impassible eyes, and with Sir John's empty
chair between them.

"Thy master is not really indisposed,
friend, eh?" asked the prince of Paul, as
the latter was serving him with wine.

"Sir John missed his usual siesta, and
was tired. He is quite well now, Signor
Principe."

"Ah, bravo! It has been a devil of a
summer. And the heat seems as if it
would never leave off any more."

The dinner seemed to be spun out to an
intolerable length. Barletti had a very
excellent appetite, and ate on steadily.
Veronica ate but little; but she drank off
three glasses of champagne, whereat
Barletti, accustomed to the almost ascetic
temperance of his own countrywomen in the
matter of wine, marvelled considerably.
He could not help observing, also, that she
did appear to be really thoughtful and
anxious, falling every now and then into
fits of musing. And at this, attributing
her careful brow to uneasiness regarding
her husband, he marvelled still more!

When the dessert was put on the table,
Paul prepared to withdraw. Veronica
desired him to remain: speaking in English,
of which language Barletti understood very
little when he saw it, and almost nothing
when he heard it.

"I must return to Sir John, miladi."

"Then tell Ansano to remain, and as
soon as Sir John is in the salottino, let me
know."

The other servants went away, leaving
Ansano to hand round the dishes of fruit,
which, in his zeal, and the elation of being
left to his own devices free from Paul's
supervision, he did with feverish energy;
until Veronica put an end to his service