“Don’t come in and speak to Nanina again,” she said, mistaking the purpose which had brought him to the door.  “What with frightening her first, and making her cry afterward, you have rendered her quite unfit for her work.  The steward is in there at this moment, very good-natured, but not very sober.  He says she is pale and red-eyed, and not fit to be a shepherdess any longer, and that, as she will not be missed now, she may go home if she likes.  We have got her an old cloak, and she is going to try and slip through the rooms unobserved, to get downstairs and change her dress.  Don’t speak to her, pray, or you will only make her cry again; and what is worse, make the steward fancy—­”

She stopped at that last word, and pointed suddenly over Fabio’s shoulder.

“The Yellow Mask!” she exclaimed.  “Oh, sir, draw her away into the ballroom, and give Nanina a chance of getting out!”

Fabio turned directly, and approached the Mask, who, as they looked at each other, slowly retreated before him.  The waiting-woman, seeing the yellow figure retire, hastened back to Nanina in the refreshment-room.

Slowly the masked woman retreated from one apartment to another till she entered a corridor brilliantly lighted up and beautifully ornamented with flowers.  On the right hand this corridor led to the ballroom; on the left to an ante-chamber at the head of the palace staircase.  The Yellow Mask went on a few paces toward the left, then stopped.  The bright eyes fixed themselves as before on Fabio’s face, but only for a moment.  He heard a light step behind him, and then he saw the eyes move.  Following the direction they took, he turned round, and discovered Nanina, wrapped up in the old cloak which was to enable her to get downstairs unobserved.

“Oh, how can I get out? how can I get out?” cried the girl, shrinking back affrightedly as she saw the Yellow Mask.

“That way,” said Fabio, pointing in the direction of the ballroom.  “Nobody will notice you in the cloak; it will only be thought some new disguise.”  He took her arm as he spoke, to reassure her, and continued in a whisper, “Don’t forget to-morrow.”

At the same moment he felt a hand laid on him.  It was the hand of the masked woman, and it put him back from Nanina.

In spite of himself, he trembled at her touch, but still retained presence of mind enough to sign to the girl to make her escape.  With a look of eager inquiry in the direction of the mask, and a half suppressed exclamation of terror, she obeyed him, and hastened away toward the ballroom.

“We are alone,” said Fabio, confronting the gleaming black eyes, and reaching out his hand resolutely toward the Yellow Mask.  “Tell me who you are, and why you follow me, or I will uncover your face, and solve the mystery for myself.”

The woman pushed his hand aside, and drew back a few paces, but never spoke a word.  He followed her.  There was not an instant to be lost, for just then the sound of footsteps hastily approaching the corridor became audible.