“The woman was capable.  No man could have got permission to move freely among the rascal Austrians, even in the character of a deserter.  She did, and she saved him from the shame of execution.  And besides, it was her punishment.  You are astonished?  Barto Rizzo punishes royally.  He never forgives, and he never persecutes; he waits for his opportunity.  That woman disobeyed him once—­once only; but once was enough.  It occurred in Milan, I believe.  She released an Austrian, or did something—­I don’t know the story exactly—­and Barto said to her, ’Now you can wash out your crime and send your boy to heaven unspotted, with one blow.’  I saw her set out to do it.  She was all teeth and eyes, like a frightened horse; she walked like a Muse in a garden.”

Vittoria discovered that her presence among the Austrians had been known to Carlo.  Leone alluded slightly to Barto Rizzo’s confirmed suspicion of her, saying that it was his weakness to be suspicious of women.  The volunteers, however, were all in her favour, and had jeered at Barto on his declaring that she might, in proof of her willingness to serve the cause, have used her voice for the purpose of subjugating the wavering Austro-Italians, who wanted as much coaxing as women.  Count Karl had been struck to earth by Barto Rizzo.  “Not with his boasted neatness, I imagine,” Leone said.  In fact, the dagger had grazed an ivory portrait of a fair Italian head wreathed with violets in Count Karl’s breast.

Vittoria recognized the features of Violetta d’Isorella as the original of the portrait.

They arrived at Roveredo late in the evening.  The wounded man again entreated Vittoria to remain by him till a messenger should bring one of his sisters from Trent.  “See,” she said to Leone, “how I give grounds for suspicion of me; I nurse an enemy.”

“Here is a case where Barto is distinctly to blame,” the lad replied.  “The poor fellow must want nursing, for he can’t smoke.”

Anna von Lenkenstein came from Trent to her brother’s summons.  Vittoria was by his bedside, and the sufferer had fallen asleep with his head upon her arm.  Anna looked upon this scene with more hateful amazement than her dull eyelids could express.  She beckoned imperiously for her to come away, but Vittoria would not allow him to be disturbed, and Anna sat and faced her.  The sleep was long.  The eyes of the two women met from time to time, and Vittoria thought that Barto Rizzo’s wife, though more terrible, was pleasanter to behold, and less brutal, than Anna.  The moment her brother stirred, Anna repeated her imperious gesture, murmuring, “Away! out of my sight!” With great delicacy of touch she drew the arm from the pillow and thrust it back, and then motioning in an undisguised horror, said, “Go.”  Vittoria rose to go.

“Is it my Lena?” came from Karl’s faint lips.

“It is your Anna.”

“I should have known,” he moaned.

Vittoria left them.