Nothing was distinguishable for the flying couple save the high-road winding under rock and forest, and here and there a coursing water in the depths of the ravines, that showed like a vein in black marble.  They walked swiftly, keeping brisk ears for sound of hoof or foot behind them.  Angelo promised her that she should rest after the morning light had come; but she assured him that she could bear fatigue, and her firm cheerfulness lent his heart vigour.  At times they were hooded with the darkness, which came on them as if, as benighted children fancy, their faces were about to meet the shaggy breast of the forest.  Rising up to lighter air, they had sight of distant twinklings:  it might be city, or autumn weed, or fires of the woodmen, or beacon fires:  they glimmered like eyelets to the mystery of the vast unseen land.  Innumerable brooks went talking to the night:  torrents in seasons of rain, childish voices now, with endless involutions of a song of three notes and a sort of unnoted clanging chorus, as if a little one sang and would sing on through the thumping of a tambourine and bells.  Vittoria had these fancies:  Angelo had none.  He walked like a hunted man whose life is at stake.

‘If we reach a village soon we may get some conveyance,’ he said.

‘I would rather walk than drive,’ said Vittoria; ’it keeps me from thinking!

’There is the dawn, signorina!

Vittoria frightened him by taking a seat upon a bench of rock; while it was still dark about them, she drew off Camilla’s silken shoes and stockings, and stood on bare feet.

‘You fancied I was tired,’ she said.  ’No, I am thrifty; and I want to save as much of my finery as I can.  I can go very well on naked feet.  These shoes are no protection; they would be worn out in half-a-day, and spoilt for decent wearing in another hour.’

The sight of fair feet upon hard earth troubled Angelo; he excused himself for calling her out to endure hardship; but she said, ’I trust you entirely.’  She looked up at the first thin wave of colour while walking.

‘You do not know me,’ said he.

‘You are the Countess Ammiani’s nephew.’

’I have, as I had the honour to tell you yesterday, the blood of your lover in my veins.’

‘Do not speak of him now, I pray,’ said Vittoria; ’I want my strength!

’Signorina, the man we have left behind us is his enemy;—­mine.  I would rather see you dead than alive in his hands.  Do you fear death?’

‘Sometimes; when I am half awake,’ she confessed.  ’I dislike thinking of it.’

He asked her curiously:  ‘Have you never seen it?’

‘Death?’ said she, and changed a shudder to a smile; ‘I died last night.’

Angelo smiled with her.  ’I saw you die!

‘It seems a hundred years ago.’

‘Or half-a-dozen minutes.  The heart counts everything’

‘Was I very much liked by the people, Signor Angelo?’