They went on. The valley was lost in darkness; stars
came out. Demetrio put his arm around Camilla's waist
amorously and whispered in her ear.

"Yes," she answered in a faint voice.

She was indeed beginning to "fall for him" as she had
expressed it.

Demetrio slept badly. He flung out of the house very
early.

"Something is going to happen to me," he thought.

It was a silent dawn, with faint murmurs of joy. A
thrush sang timidly in one of the ash trees. The animals
in the corral trampled on the refuse. The pig grunted its
somnolence. The orange tints of the sun streaked the
sky; the last star flickered out.

Demetrio walked slowly to the encampment.

He was thinking of his plow, his two black oxen--
young beasts they were, who had worked in the fields
only two years--of his two acres of well-fertilized corn.
The face of his young wife came to his mind, clear and
true as life: he saw her strong, soft features, so gracious
when she smiled on her husband, so proudly fierce to-
ward strangers. But when he tried to conjure up the