Permission was then accorded to him to proceed in the carriage.

Vittoria held her hand to Wilfrid.  He took the fingers and bowed over them.

He was perfectly self-possessed, and cool even under her eyes.  Like a pedlar he carried a pack on his back, which was his life; for his business was a combination of scout and spy.

“You have saved me from a ditch to-day,” he said; “every fellow has some sort of love for his life, and I must thank you for the odd luck of your coming by.  I knew you were on this ground somewhere.  If the rascals had searched me, I should not have come off so well.  I did not speak falsely to that officer; I am not in the Austrian service.  I am a volunteer spy.  I am an unpaid soldier.  I am the dog of the army—­fetching and carrying for a smile and a pat on the head.  I am ruined, and I am working my way up as best I can.  My uncle disowns me.  It is to General Schoneck that I owe this chance of re-establishing myself.  I followed the army out of Milan.  I was at Melegnano, at Pastrengo, at Santa Lucia.  If I get nothing for it, the Lenkensteins at least shall not say that I abandoned the flag in adversity.  I am bound for Rivoli.  The fortress (Peschiera) has just surrendered.  The Marshal is stealing round to make a dash on Vicenza.”  So far he spoke like one apart from her, but a flush crossed his forehead.  “I have not followed you.  I have obeyed your brief directions.  I saw this carriage yesterday in the ranks of our troops.  I saw Pericles.  I guessed who might be inside it.  I let it pass me.  Could I do more?”

“Not if you wanted to punish me,” said Vittoria.

She was afflicted by his refraining from reproaches in his sunken state.

Their talk bordered the old life which they had known, like a rivulet, coming to falls where it threatens to be e, torrent and a flood; like flame bubbling the wax of a seal.  She was surprised to find herself expecting tenderness from him:  and, startled by the languor in her veins, she conceived a contempt for her sex and her own weak nature.  To mask that, an excessive outward coldness was assumed.  “You can serve as a spy, Wilfrid!”

The answer was ready:  “Having twice served as a traitor, I need not be particular.  It is what my uncle and the Lenkensteins call me.  I do my best to work my way up again.  Despise me for it, if you please.”

On the contrary, she had never respected him so much.  She got herself into opposition to him by provoking him to speak with pride of his army; but the opposition was artificial, and she called to Carlo Ammiani in heart.  “I will leave these places, cover up my head, and crouch till the struggle is decided.”