When we were alone, she and I, I stood a moment where they had left me, my hands pinioned behind me, and the cord which the executioner had held trailing the ground like a lambent tail.  Then I went slowly forward until I stood close before her.  Her eyes were on my face, still with that same look of unbelief.

“Madonna mia,” said I, “do not for an instant think that it is my purpose to ask of you any sacrifice that might save my worthless life.  Rather was my purpose in seeking these few moments with you, to strengthen and encourage you by such news as it is mine to bring.”

She looked now as if she scarcely understood.

“If I will wed him to-night, he has promised that you shall go free,” she said in a whisper.  “He says that he can bring a priest from the neighbourhood at a moment’s notice.”

“Do not heed him,” I cried sternly.

“I do not heed him,” said she, more composedly.  “If he seeks to force me, I shall find a way of setting myself free.  Dear Mother of Heaven! death were a sweet and restful thing after all that I have suffered in these days.”

Then she fell suddenly to weeping.

“Think me not an utter coward, Lazzaro.  Willingly would I do this thing to save so noble a life as yours, did I not think that you must hate me for it.  I was stout and firm in my refusal, confident that you would have had me so.  Was I not right, my poor, poor Lazzaro?”

“Madonna, you were right,” I answered firmly and calmly.

“And you are to die, amor mio,” she murmured passionately.  “You are to die when the promise of happiness seemed held out to us.  And yet, were you to live at the price at which life is offered you, would your life be endurable?  Tell me the truth, Lazzaro; swear it to me.  For if life is the dearer thing to you, why then, you shall have your life.”

“Need you ask me, Paola?” questioned I.  “Does not your heart tell you how much easier is death than would be such life as I must lead hereafter, even if we could trust Ramiro, which we cannot.  Be brave, Madonna, and help me to be brave and to bear thyself with a becoming fortitude.  Now listen to what I have to tell you.  Ramiro del’ Orca is a traitor who is plotting the death of his overlord.  Proofs of it are by now in the hands of Cesare Borgia, and in some seven or eight hours the Duke himself should be here to put this monster to the question touching these matters.  I will say a word in his ear ere I depart that will fill his mind with a very wholesome fear, and you will find that during the few hours left him he will have little leisure to think of you and afflict you with his odious wooing.  Be strong, then, for a little while, for Cesare is coming to set you free.”

She looked at me now with eyes that were wide open.  Suddenly—­

“Could we not gain time?” she cried, and in her eagerness she rose and set her hands upon my shoulders.  “Could I not pretend to acquiesce to his wishes, and so delay your end?”