“I will tell you what I have to say,” I answered him, standing up with folded arms.  “I say that you lie.  You have never done anything but lie and cheat since the moment I saw you.  You live by cheating, and will die lying.  That is what I have to say.  I salute you and beg you to be gone.”

“The fair and cruel-kind Aurelia——­” he began unconcernedly, but I struck the bench on which he sat.

“Cavaliere,” I said, “if you speak one word more of that lady I shall kill you here in this place.”

I had an adze in my hand, and I suppose he believed me, for he shrugged his shoulders, got up and walked out of the carpenter’s shop.  He had accomplished one part of his infamous design, at least.  With every symptom of the most exquisite torture of mind I recalled throughout that day and night the lovely, fleeting, unattainable image of Aurelia Gualandi.  She was fatally present, every bend and turn of her head, every motion of her bosom, the weaving of her hands, every flutter of her breath, every sigh, every flash of her eyes danced before me, mocking, deluding, beckoning, beguiling, enchanting me.  My poor Virginia had reason to complain of my dejection, coldness, inattention, God knows!  But He knows too, and will reward her for it, that the brave girl never once did complain.  My torment endured atrociously all night, and all the next day; then subsided somewhat, and by the Sunday following was almost gone.  On the Monday, moreover, I had something else to think of:  this, namely——­

On Monday evening, just as I was about to leave the yard, Virginia, with a hood over her head, came into it.  This was extraordinary, and so did she appear—­vividly coloured, with the eyes of one in a fever, but not alarmed; elated rather, and full of strong resolve.  Before I could speak she put her finger to her lip, and said, “Hush!  Come with me to the ramparts instead of going home.  I have something to tell you.”  I followed her at once.  The ramparts were very empty, as it was nearly dark.  She took my arm and began to walk slowly under the trees, speaking calmly, mastering the excitement which she evidently suffered.

She said, “At noon to-day, after the dinner-hour, the padrona gave me three baskets of linen, and told me to carry them to their owners, with the bills which were pinned upon them.  I put all three on my head and went away.  The first errand was to the apartment of that old colonel of artillery, where I have often been before.  I delivered the basket, unpacked it in his presence, received the money and my buona mano, and departed.  The second took me to Don Filiberto, the parroco of Santa Lucia.  As usual, he inquired after you, asked me that certain question which you know, gave me two whites, patted my cheek, and hoped for better news next week.  When I came to look at my third basket, judge my dismay to find that it was addressed to the Cavaliere Aquamorta, at the Albergo del Sole.  It was the largest by far—­and that was why I had put it at the bottom—­and had a substantial bill upon it, including the arrears of three weeks.  I suppose he had planned it with the padrona, for I had never been to him before, and did not even know that we washed for him.  However, there was no help for it.  I must go.