He got up, and in spite of a little resistance he made her put her arms into the sleeves of the coat, and turned the cuffs back, and fastened the buttons.  She was shivering from head to foot.

“What a miserable little thing I am!” she cried impatiently.

“You are not a miserable little thing, and you are much braver than most men,” said Malipieri.  “But it will be of very little use to get you out of the vault alive if you are to die of a fever in a day or two.”

She said nothing and he led her carefully down the inclined passage and the steps, away from the gloomy overflow, and the roaring water and the fearful dampness.  He helped her down into the vault very gently, over the glittering chest of the great imperial statue.  The air felt warm and dry, now that she was so badly chilled, and her lips looked a little less blue.

“I will light the lamp, and turn it very low,” said Malipieri.

“I am not afraid of the dark,” Sabina answered.  “You said that we must not waste our light.”

“Shall you really not be nervous?” Malipieri supposed that all women were afraid to be in the dark alone.

“Of course not.  Why should I?  There are no spiders, and I do not believe in ghosts.  Besides, I shall hear you hammering at the wall.”

“You had better sit on the body of the Venus.  I think the marble is warmer than the bronze.  But there is the board—­I forgot.  Wait a minute.”

He was not gone long, and came back bringing the board and his waistcoat.  To his surprise, he found her sitting on the ground, propping herself with one hand.

“I felt a little dizzy in the dark,” she explained, “so I sat down, for fear of falling.”

He glanced at her face, and his own was grave, as he placed the board on the ground, and laid the waistcoat over the curving waist of the Aphrodite, so that she could lean against it.  She got up quickly when it was ready and seated herself, drawing up her knees and pulling her skirt closely round her damp shoes to keep her feet warm, if possible.  He set the lamp beside her and gave her a little silver box of matches, so that she could get a light if she felt nervous.  He looked at her face thoughtfully as he stood with his lantern in his hand, ready to go.

“But you have nothing to put on, if you have to rest again!” she said, rather feebly.

“I will come and rest here, about once an hour,” he answered.

Her face brightened a little, and she nodded, looking up into his eyes.

“Yes.  Come and rest beside me,” she said.

He went away, climbing over the statue and out through the hole in the vault.  Just before he disappeared, he held up his lantern and looked towards her.  She was watching him.

“Good-night,” he said.  “Try to sleep a little.”

“Come back soon,” she answered faintly, and smiled.

Presently he was at work again, steadily driving the bar against the hard bricks, steadily chipping away a little at a time, steadily making progress against the enormous obstacle.  The only question was whether his strength would last, for if he had been able to get food, it would have been merely a matter of time.  A crowbar does not wear down much on bricks.