The left hand came forward, slowly this time.  It hovered before Philip like an insect.  Then it descended and gripped him by his broken elbow.

Philip struck out with all the strength of his other arm.  Gino fell to the blow without a cry or a word.

“You brute!” exclaimed the Englishman.  “Kill me if you like!  But just you leave my broken arm alone.”

Then he was seized with remorse, and knelt beside his adversary and tried to revive him.  He managed to raise him up, and propped his body against his own.  He passed his arm round him.  Again he was filled with pity and tenderness.  He awaited the revival without fear, sure that both of them were safe at last.

Gino recovered suddenly.  His lips moved.  For one blessed moment it seemed that he was going to speak.  But he scrambled up in silence, remembering everything, and he made not towards Philip, but towards the lamp.

“Do what you like; but think first—­”

The lamp was tossed across the room, out through the loggia.  It broke against one of the trees below.  Philip began to cry out in the dark.

Gino approached from behind and gave him a sharp pinch.  Philip spun round with a yell.  He had only been pinched on the back, but he knew what was in store for him.  He struck out, exhorting the devil to fight him, to kill him, to do anything but this.  Then he stumbled to the door.  It was open.  He lost his head, and, instead of turning down the stairs, he ran across the landing into the room opposite.  There he lay down on the floor between the stove and the skirting-board.

His senses grew sharper.  He could hear Gino coming in on tiptoe.  He even knew what was passing in his mind, how now he was at fault, now he was hopeful, now he was wondering whether after all the victim had not escaped down the stairs.  There was a quick swoop above him, and then a low growl like a dog’s.  Gino had broken his finger-nails against the stove.

Physical pain is almost too terrible to bear.  We can just bear it when it comes by accident or for our good—­as it generally does in modern life—­except at school.  But when it is caused by the malignity of a man, full grown, fashioned like ourselves, all our control disappears.  Philip’s one thought was to get away from that room at whatever sacrifice of nobility or pride.

Gino was now at the further end of the room, groping by the little tables.  Suddenly the instinct came to him.  He crawled quickly to where Philip lay and had him clean by the elbow.

The whole arm seemed red-hot, and the broken bone grated in the joint, sending out shoots of the essence of pain.  His other arm was pinioned against the wall, and Gino had trampled in behind the stove and was kneeling on his legs.  For the space of a minute he yelled and yelled with all the force of his lungs.  Then this solace was denied him.  The other hand, moist and strong, began to close round his throat.