"But you--she may punish you," he says, and she understands, shaking her
head.

"She no dare; I am of Malta; also, I shall see her, this proud mistress,
no more," which doubtless means that she intends taking French leave as
soon as the Americans have gone.

John takes her hand and presses it to his lips; a dusky hand it is, but
no cavalier of old ever kissed the slender member of a lady love with
more reverence than he shows.

"Go, it is danger to stay," she says, with something of a look of alarm
on her face, as from the interior of the dwelling comes some sort of
clamor which may after all only turn out to be the barking of a dog
confined in the court where the fountain plays, but which at any rate
arouses her fears.

They are only too glad to do so; after being confined in that murky
dungeon the outside air seems peculiarly sweet.

It must be very late, and in this quarter, at least, the noises of the
earlier night have passed away.

The only sounds that come plainly to their ears are the booming of the
heavy tide on the rocks, and the sweep of the night wind through the
cypress trees.

When they turn again after making an effort to locate themselves, the
door in the wall is closed, and the Maltese woman is gone.