seem asleep.  But about cockcrow there was a silence as of the dead, and that time was judged favourable by my companion-in-hiding to get clear away.  Knife in mouth he crept out of cover and went tiptoe by the house.  The poor fellow was crimped at the corner by some wakeful sentry and tied up to fight the Grand Duke.  So I stayed with the fowls until the maid came in for a victim, which was to supply the lieutenant’s breakfast.

Here was my chance.  “Madam,” says I, and the girl gave a little shriek.  Being desperate, I put an arm round her waist and covered her mouth with my hand.

“Madam,” I said courteously, “I deplore the necessity of laying violence upon you, but pray you to believe, if you can, in my sincere respect for you.  I am travelling to Florence, but alone.  Help me to avoid these guests of yours, and I shall be eternally grateful.”  When I was sure that she had understood me I released her; she sighed.

“Forgive me, sir,” she said, “but I thought you were going to make love to me.”

“God forbid it,” said I, perhaps a little too devoutly, for she seemed to be piqued.

She said, “It’s as you please, sir, of course.  He never forbids what you gentlemen have a mind to.”

“You are wrong, my dear,” I replied.  “He does forbid it—­but we don’t know it until too late.”

“Sir,” said she, “it’s not too late yet.”  It was now for me to sigh.

“If you knew, or could read, one page of my story,” I told her, “you would understand how late I am, and how pressed for time.  Will you not help me?  I am in your hands.”  She looked kindly.

“Stay here, sir,” said she.  “I’ll do my best for you.”

What means she took cannot be told; but after a short absence she returned with bread and a jug of wine under her apron, and beckoning me to follow her, took me by a back way behind the houses, up a stair cut into the rock, and so to the upper street of the little town.  Towering above me then, I saw the broad green side of the mountain, whose summit was wreathed in white mist.

“You are free to go now, sir,” said she.  “There lies your honour’s way.”  I thanked her warmly, offering her my hand.  But she put hers behind her.

“Is that all you are going to give me?” she asked me, and made me blush for my poverty.

“I would give you something very handsome if I had it,” I said, “for you have done me a real service.  It would have been impossible for me to fight the Grand Duke, feeling as I do towards one of his subjects.  You have saved me from a painful dilemma and deserve more than I can offer you.”  Such as they were, however, I held out to her in one hand my last gold ducat, in the other my “Aminta.”  The maid looked all about her, shaking her head at the choice.  Nobody was near—­the narrow street was asleep.  “I would much rather take a kiss from your honour,” said she.  “No girl likes to be disappointed—­and you have a smooth chin.”