For a moment he stared through the darkness.  Then he flung his elbow over.

There arose a noise below.  There was a rush.  The figure disappeared from the window.  A furious struggle followed, in the midst of which arose fierce oaths and deep breathings, and the sound of blows.  Then the struggle subsided, and they heard footsteps tramping heavily.  They followed the sound into the house.  They heard men coming up the stairs and into the hall outside.  Then they all moved into, the front-room opposite theirs.  After a few minutes they heard the steps descending the stairs.  By this they judged that the prisoner had been taken to that room which was on the other side of the hall and in the front of the house.

“There dies our last hope!” said Mrs. Willoughby, and burst into tears.

“I’m sure I don’t see what you’re crying about,” said Minnie.  “You certainly oughtn’t to want me to be carried off again by that person.  If he had me, he’d never give me up—­especially after saving me twice.”

Mrs. Willoughby made no reply, and the sisters sat in silence for nearly an hour.  They were then aroused by the approach of footsteps which entered the house; after which voices were heard below.

Then some one ascended the stairs, and they saw the flicker of a light.  It was Girasole.

He came into the room with a small lamp, holding his hand in front of the flame.  This lamp he set down in a corner out of the draught, and then turned to the ladies.

“Miladi,” said Girasole, in a gentle voice, “I am ver pained to haf to tella you dat it is necessaire for you to separat dis night—­till to-morra.”

“To separate?” exclaimed Mrs. Willoughby.

“Only till to-morra, miladi.  Den you sall be togeder foravva.  But it is now necessaire.  Dere haf ben an attemp to a rescue.  I mus guard again dis—­an’ it mus be done by a separazion.  If you are togeder you might run.  Dis man was almos up here.  It was only chance dat I saw him in time.”

“Oh, Sir,” cried Mrs. Willoughby, “you can not—­you will not separate us.  You can not have the heart to.  I promise most solemnly that we will not escape if you only leave us together.”

Girasole shook his head.

“I can not,” said he, firmly; “de mees is too precious.  I dare not.  If you are prisonaire se will not try to fly, an’ so I secure her de more; but if you are togeder you will find some help.  You will bribe de men.  I can not trust dem.”

“Oh, do not separate us.  Tie us.  Bind us.  Fasten us with chains.  Fasten me with chains, but leave me with her.”

“Chains? nonsance; dat is impossibile.  Chains? no, miladi.  You sall be treat beautiful.  No chain, no; notin but affection—­till to-morra, an’ den de mees sall be my wife.  De priest haf come, an’ it sall be allaright to-morra, an’ you sall be wit her again.  An’ now you haf to come away; for if you do not be pleasant, I sall not be able to ’low you to stay to-morra wit de mees when se become my Contessa.”