“Signore, I shall do so,” said Giacinta.

She brought him word soon after, that Countess d’Isorella was stirring.  Merthyr met Violetta on the stairs.

“Can it be true?” she accosted him first.

“Count Ammiani has left for Brescia,” he replied.

“In spite of my warning?”

Merthyr gave space for her to pass into the room.  She appeared undecided, saying that she had a dismal apprehension of her not having dismissed her coachman overnight.

“In spite of my warning,” she murmured again, “he has really gone?  Surely I cannot have slept more than three hours.”

“It was Count Ammiani’s wish that you should enjoy your full sleep undisturbed in his house,” said Merthyr, “As regards your warning to him, he has left Milan perfectly convinced of the gravity of a warning that comes from you.”

Violetta shrugged lightly.  “Then all we have to do is to pray for the success of Carlo Alberto.”

“Oh! pardon me, countess,” Merthyr rejoined, “prayers may be useful, but you at least have something to do besides.”

His eyes caught hers firmly as they were letting a wild look of interrogation fall on him, and he continued with perfect courtesy, “You will accompany me to see Countess Anna of Lenkenstein.  You have great influence, madame.  It is not Count Ammiani’s request; for, as I informed you, it was his wish that you should enjoy your repose.  The request is mine, because his life is dear to me.  Nagen, I think, is the name of the Austrian officer who has started for Brescia.”

She had in self-defence to express surprise while he spoke, which compelled her to meet his mastering sight and submit to a struggle of vision sufficient to show him that he had hit a sort of guilty consciousness.  Otherwise she was not discomposed, and with marvellous sagacity she accepted the forbearance he assumed, not affecting innocence to challenge it, as silly criminals always do when they are exposed, but answering quite in the tone of innocence, and so throwing the burden by an appearance of mutual consent on some unnamed third person.

“Certainly; let us go to Countess Anna of Lenkenstein, if you think fit.  I have to rely on your judgement.  I quite abjure my own.  If I have to plead for anything, I am going before a woman, remember.”

“I do not forget it,” said Merthyr.

“The expedition to Brescia may be unfortunate,” she resumed hurriedly; “I wish it had not been undertaken.  At any rate, it rescues Count Ammiani from an expedition to Rome, and his slavish devotion to that priest-hating man whom he calls, or called, his Chief.  At Brescia he is not outraging the head of our religion.  That is a gain.”

“A gain for him in the next world?” said Merthyr.  “I believe that Countess Anna of Lenkenstein is also a fervent Catholic; is she not?”

“I trust so.”

“On behalf of her peace of mind, I trust so, too.  In that case, she also must be a sound sleeper.”