A few minutes later she heard footsteps overhead, and saw a faint light through the hole.  He was coming at last, and she smiled happily before she saw him.

He came down and asked how she was, and he sat on the Aphrodite beside her.

“If I could only get warm!” she answered.

“Perhaps you can warm your hands a little on the sides of the lantern,” he said.

She tried that and felt a momentary sensation of comfort, and asked him what progress he was making.

“Very slow,” he replied.  “I cannot hear the least sound from the other side yet.  Masin is not there.”

She did not expect any other answer, and said nothing, as she sat shivering beside him.

“You are very brave,” he said presently.

A long pause followed.  She had bent her head low, so that her face almost touched her knees.

“Signor Malipieri—­” she began, at last, in rather a trembling tone.

“Yes?  What is it?” He bent down to her, but she did not look up.

“I—­I—­hardly know how to say it,” she faltered.  “Shall you think very, very badly of me if I ask you to do something—­something that—­” She stopped.

“There is nothing in heaven or earth I will not do for you,” he answered.  “And I shall certainly not think anything very dreadful.”  He tried to speak cheerfully.

“I think I shall die of the cold,” she said.  “There might be a way—­”

“Yes?  Anything!”

Then she spoke very low.

“Do you think you could just put your arms round me for a minute or two?” she asked.

Piteously cold though she was, the blood rushed to her face as she uttered the words; but Malipieri felt it in his throat and eyes.

“Certainly,” he answered, as if she had asked the most natural thing in the world.  “Sit upon my knees, and I will hold my arms round you, till you are warm.”

He settled himself on the marble limbs of the Aphrodite, and the frail young girl seated herself on his knees, and nestled to him for warmth, while he held her close to him, covering her with his arms as much as he could.  They went quite round her, one above the other, and she hid her face against his shoulder.  He could feel her trembling with the cold like a leaf, under the coat he had made her put on.

Suddenly she started a little, but not as if she wished to go; it was more like a sob than anything else.

“What is the matter?” he asked, steadying his voice with difficulty.

“I am so ashamed of myself!” she answered, and she buried her face against his shoulder again.

“There is nothing to be ashamed of,” he said gently.  “Are you a little warmer now?”

“Oh, much, much!  Let me stay just a little longer.”

“As long as you will,” he answered, pressing her to him quietly.