“My sister is perfectly well,” said Wilfrid.  “She has heard that Captain Gambier has been arrested in the mountains; she had some fears concerning you, which I quieted.  What I have to tell you, does not relate to her.  The man Angelo Guidascarpi is in Meran.  I wish you to let the signora know that if he is not carried out of the city before sunset to-morrow, I must positively inform the superior officer of the district of his presence there.”

This was their first private interview.  Vittoria (for she knew him) had acceded to it, much fearing that it would lead to her having to put on her sex’s armour.  To collect her wits, she asked tremblingly how Wilfrid had chanced to see Angelo.  An old Italian woman, he said, had accosted him at the foot of the mountain, and hearing that he was truly an Englishman—­“I am out of my uniform,” Wilfrid remarked with intentional bitterness—­had conducted him to the house of an Italian in the city, where Angelo Guidascarpi was lying.

“Ill?” said Vittoria.

“Just recovering.  After that duel, or whatever it may be called with Weisspriess, he lay all night out on the mountains.  He managed to get the help of a couple of fellows, who led him at dusk into Meran, saw an Italian name over a shop, and—­I will say for them that the rascals hold together.  There he is, at all events.”

“Would you denounce a sick man, Wilfrid?”

“I certainly cannot forget my duty upon every point”

“You are changed!”

“Changed!  Am I the only one who is changed?”

“He must have supposed that it would be Merthyr.  I remember speaking of Merthyr to him as our unchangeable friend.  I told him Merthyr would be here.”

“Instead of Merthyr, he had the misfortune to see your changeable friend, if you will have it so.”

“But how can it be your duty to denounce him, Wilfrid.  You have quitted that army.”

“Have I?  I have forfeited my rank, perhaps.”

“And Angelo is not guilty of a military offence.”

“He has slain one of a family that I am bound to respect.”

“Certainly, certainly,” said Vittoria hurriedly.

Her forehead showed distress of mind; she wanted Laura’s counsel.

“Wilfrid, do you know the whole story?”

“I know that he inveigled Count Paul to his house and slew him; either he or his brother, or both.”

“I have been with him for days, Wilfrid.  I believe that he would do no dishonourable thing.  He is related——­“.

“He is the cousin of Count Ammiani.”

“Ah! would you plunge us in misery?”

“How?”

“Count Ammiani is my lover.”

She uttered it unblushingly, and with tender eyes fixed on him.

“Your lover!” he exclaimed, with vile emphasis.

“He will be my husband,” she murmured, while the mounting hot colour burned at her temples.

“Changed—­who is changed?” he said, in a vehement underneath.  “For that reason I am to be false to her who does me the honour to care for me!”