restraint she had hitherto imposed upon herself, and whispered hurriedly,
in broken accents:

"Dismiss the servants, lock the studio, and follow us."

Moor did as he was requested, and, with the baron, obeyed her request to
search the anterooms, to see that no unbidden visitor remained. She
herself raised the curtains and looked up the chimney.

Moor had rarely seen her so pale. Unable to control the muscles of her
face, shoulders and hands, she went into the middle of the room, beckoned
the men to come close to her, raised her fan to her face, and whispered:

"Don Fabrizio and I are now one. God hears me! You, Master, are in
great peril and surrounded by spies. Some one witnessed yesterday's
incident, and it is now the talk of the town. Don Fabrizio has made
inquiries. There is an accusation against you, and the Inquisition will
act upon it. The informers call you a heretic, a sorcerer, who has
bewitched the king. They will seize you to-morrow, or the day after.
The king is in a terrible mood. The Nuncio openly asked him whether it
was true, that he had been offered an atrocious insult in your studio.
Is everything ready? Can you fly?"

Moor bent his head in assent.

"Well then," said the baron, interrupting Sophonisba; "I beg you to
listen to me. I have obtained leave of absence, to go to Sicily to
ask my father's blessing. It will be no easy matter for me to leave
my happiness, at the moment my most ardent wish is fulfilled--but
Sophonisba commands and I obey. I obey gladly too, for if I succeed in