He rose quietly.  She laid her elbow on his hand; thus supported she left a place that seemed to shudder.  All the heavy day they walked almost silently; she not daring to probe his anguish with a question; and he calm and vacant as the hour following thunder.  But, of her safety by his side she had no longer a doubt.  She let him gather weeds and grasses, and bind them across her feet, and perform friendly services, sure that nothing earthly could cause such a mental tempest to recur.  The considerate observation which at all seasons belongs to true courage told her that it was not madness afflicting Angelo.

Near nightfall they came upon a forester’s hut, where they were welcomed by an old man and a little girl, who gave them milk and black bread, and straw to rest on.  Angelo slept in the outer air.  When Vittoria awoke she had the fancy that she had taken one long dive downward in a well; and on touching the bottom found her head above the surface.  While her surprise was wearing off, she beheld the woodman’s little girl at her feet holding up one end of her cloak, and peeping underneath, overcome by amazement at the flashing richness of the dress of the heroine Camilla.  Entering into the state of her mind spontaneously, Vittoria sought to induce the child to kiss her; but quite vainly.  The child’s reverence for the dress allowed her only to be within reach of the hem of it, so as to delight her curiosity.  Vittoria smiled when, as she sat up, the child fell back against the wall; and as she rose to her feet, the child scampered from the room.  ‘My poor Camilla! you can charm somebody, yet,’ she said, limping; her visage like a broken water with the pain of her feet.  ’If the bell rings for Camilla now, what sort of an entry will she make?’ Vittoria treated her physical weakness and ailments with this spirit of humour.  ’They may say that Michiella has bewitched you, my Camilla.  I think your voice would sound as if it were dragging its feet after it just as a stork flies.  O my Camilla! don’t I wish I could do the same, and be ungraceful and at ease!  A moan is married to every note of your treble, my Camilla, like December and May.  Keep me from shrieking!’

The pangs shooting from her feet were scarce bearable, but the repression of them helped her to meet Angelo with a freer mind than, after the interval of separation, she would have had.  The old woodman was cooking a queer composition of flour and milk sprinkled with salt for them.  Angelo cut a stout cloth to encase each of her feet, and bound them in it.  He was more cheerful than she had ever seen him, and now first spoke of their destination.  His design was to conduct her near to Bormio, there to engage a couple of men in her service who would accompany her to Meran, by the Val di Sole, while he crossed the Stelvio alone, and turning leftward in the Tyrolese valley, tried the passage into Switzerland.

Bormio, if, when they quitted the forest, a conveyance could be obtained, was no more than a short day’s distance, according to the old woodman’s directions.  Vittoria induced the little girl to sit upon her knee, and sang to her, but greatly unspirited the charm of her dress.  The sun was rising as they bade adieu to the hut.