Matilde and Bosio were alone again, and they knew that he would not come
back. Bosio sank into his chair again, and pressed the palms of his
hands to his eyes, resting his elbows on his knees.

"The infamy of it!" he groaned, in the bitterness of his weak misery.

Matilde stood beside him, and gently stroked his hair where it was
streaked with grey. He moved impatiently, as though to shake off her
strong hand.

"No," she said, and her voice grew as soft as velvet. "It is to save
me--to save us all."

He shook her off, and rose to his feet with spasmodic energy.

"I cannot--I will not--never!" he cried, walking away from her with
irregular steps.

"But it will be so much better--for Veronica, too," she said softly, for
she knew how to frighten him.

He turned with startled eyes. Then, with the impulse of a man escaping
from something which he is not strong enough to face, he reached the
door in two quick strides, and went out without looking back.

Matilde watched the door, as it closed, and stood still a few seconds
before she left the room. Her eyes wandered to the clock, and she saw
that it was nearly midnight.