flicker nor smoke. The Malay did not stir at Fabio’s
entry, he merely turned his eyes upon him, and again
bent them upon Muzzio. From time to time he raised
and lowered the branch, and waved it in the air, and
his dumb lips slowly parted and moved as though uttering
soundless words. On the floor between the Malay
and Muzzio lay the dagger, with which Fabio had stabbed
his friend; the Malay struck one blow with the branch
on the blood-stained blade. A minute passed ...
another. Fabio approached the Malay, and stooping
down to him, asked in an undertone, ‘Is he dead?’
The Malay bent his head from above downwards, and
disentangling his right hand from his shawl, he pointed
imperiously to the door. Fabio would have repeated
his question, but the gesture of the commanding hand
was repeated, and Fabio went out, indignant and wondering,
but obedient.
He found Valeria sleeping as before, with an even
more tranquil expression on her face. He did
not undress, but seated himself by the window, his
head in his hand, and once more sank into thought.
The rising sun found him still in the same place.
Valeria had not waked up.
Fabio intended to wait till she awakened, and then
to set off to Ferrara, when suddenly some one tapped
lightly at the bedroom door. Fabio went out,
and saw his old steward, Antonio. ‘Signor,’
began the old man, ’the Malay has just informed
me that Signor Muzzio has been taken ill, and wishes
to be moved with all his belongings to the town; and
that he begs you to let him have servants to assist
in packing his things; and that at dinner-time you
would send pack-horses, and saddle-horses, and a few
attendants for the journey. Do you allow it?’
‘The Malay informed you of this?’ asked
Fabio. ’In what manner? Why, he is
dumb.’
’Here, signor, is the paper on which he wrote
all this in our language, and very correctly.’
‘And Muzzio, you say, is ill?’ ‘Yes,
he is very ill, and can see no one.’ ‘Have
they sent for a doctor?’ ‘No. The
Malay forbade it.’ ’And was it the
Malay wrote you this?’ ‘Yes, it was he.’
Fabio did not speak for a moment. ‘Well,
then, arrange it all,’ he said at last.
Antonio withdrew.
Fabio looked after his servant in bewilderment.
‘Then, he is not dead?’ he thought ...
and he did not know whether to rejoice or to be sorry.
‘Ill?’ But a few hours ago it was a corpse
he had looked upon!
Fabio returned to Valeria. She waked up and raised
her head. The husband and wife exchanged a long
look full of significance. ‘He is gone?’
Valeria said suddenly. Fabio shuddered.
‘How gone? Do you mean ...’ ’Is
he gone away?’ she continued. A load fell
from Fabio’s heart. ’Not yet; but
he is going to-day.’ ‘And I shall
never, never see him again?’ ‘Never.’
’And these dreams will not come again?’
‘No.’ Valeria again heaved a sigh
of relief; a blissful smile once more appeared on
