"I've got everything ready."
"To-night we've only cold things, haven't we? You made us a very nice
collazione. The French signore praised your cooking, and he's very
particular, as French people generally are. So you ought to be proud of
yourself."
Lucrezia smiled, but only for an instant. Then she stood with an anxious
face, twisting her apron.
"Signora!"
"Yes? What is it?"
"Would you mind--may I--"
She stopped.
"Why, Lucrezia, are you afraid of me? I've certainly been away too long!"
"No, no, signora, but--" Tears hung in her eyes. "Will you let me go away
if I promise to be back by nine?"
"But you can't go to Marechiaro in--"
"No, signora. I only want to go to the mountain over there under Castel
Vecchio. I want to go to the Madonna."
Hermione took one of the girl's hands.
"To the Madonna della Rocca?"
"Si, signora."
"I understand."
"I have a candle to burn to the Madonna. If I go now I can be back before
nine."
She stood gazing pathetically, like a big child, at her padrona.
"Lucrezia," Hermione said, moved to a great pity by her own great
happiness, "would you mind if I came, too? I think I should like to say a
prayer for you to-night. I am not a Catholic, but my prayer cannot hurt
you."
Lucrezia suddenly forgot distinctions, threw her arms round Hermione, and
began to sob.
"Hush, you must be brave!"
She smoothed the girl's dark hair gently.
"Have you got your candle?"
"Si."
She showed it.
"Let us go quickly, then. Where's Gaspare?"
"Close to the house, signora, on the mountain. One cannot speak with him
to-day."
"Why not?"
"Non lo so. But he is terrible to-day!"
So Lucrezia had noticed Gaspare's strangeness, too, even in the midst of
her sorrow!
"Gaspare!" Hermione called.
There was no answer.
"Gaspare!"
She called louder.
"Si, signora!"
The voice came from somewhere behind the house.
"I am going for a walk with Lucrezia. We shall be back at nine. Tell the
padrone if he comes."
"Si, signora."
The two women set out without seeing Gaspare. They walked in silence down
the mountain-path. Lucrezia held her candle carefully, like one in a
procession. She was not sobbing now. There were no tears in her eyes. The
companionship and the sympathy of her padrona had given her some courage,
some hope, had taken away from her the desolate feeling, the sensation of
abandonment which had been torturing her. And then she had an almost
blind faith in the Madonna della Rocca. And the padrona was going to
pray, too. She was not a Catholic, but she was a lady and she was good.
The Madonna della Rocca must surely be influenced by her petition.