Hastily two or three young men slipped their stilettos up the left sleeves of their jackets and escorted Orso and his sister to their own door.

CHAPTER XIII

Panting, exhausted, Colomba was utterly incapable of uttering a single word.  Her head rested on her brother’s shoulder, and she clasped one of his hands tightly between her own.  Orso, though secretly somewhat annoyed by her peroration, was too much alarmed to reprove her, even in the mildest fashion.  He was silently waiting till the nervous attack from which she seemed to be suffering should have passed, when there was a knock at the door, and Saveria, very much flustered, announced the prefect.  At the words, Colomba rose, as though ashamed of her weakness, and stood leaning on a chair, which shook visibly beneath her hand.

The prefect began with some commonplace apology for the unseasonable hour of his visit, condoled with Mademoiselle Colomba, touched on the danger connected with strong emotions, blamed the custom of composing funeral dirges, which the very talent of the voceratrice rendered the more harrowing to her auditors, skilfully slipped in a mild reproof concerning the tendency of the improvisation just concluded, and then, changing his tone—­

“M. della Rebbia,” he said, “I have many messages for you from your English friends.  Miss Nevil sends her affectionate regards to your sister.  I have a letter for you from her.”

“A letter from Miss Nevil!” cried Orso.

“Unluckily I have not got it with me.  But you shall have it within five minutes.  Her father has not been well.  For a little while we were afraid he had caught one of our terrible fevers.  Luckily he is all right again, as you will observe for yourself, for I fancy you will see him very soon.”

“Miss Nevil must have been very much alarmed!”

“Fortunately she did not become aware of the danger till it was quite gone by.  M. della Rebbia, Miss Nevil has talked to me a great deal about you and about your sister.”

Orso bowed.

“She has a great affection for you both.  Under her charming appearance, and her apparent frivolity, a fund of good sense lies hidden.”

“She is a very fascinating person,” said Orso.

“I have come here, monsieur, almost at her prayer.  Nobody is better acquainted than I with a fatal story which I would fain not have to recall to you.  As M. Barricini is still the mayor of Pietranera, and as I am prefect of the department, I need hardly tell you what weight I attach to certain suspicions which, if I am rightly informed, some incautious individuals have communicated to you, and which you, I know, have spurned with the indignation your position and your character would have led me to expect.”

“Colomba,” said Orso, moving uneasily to his chair.  “You are very tired.  You had better go to bed.”