“Let us sit upon the step and talk,” said Hedwig, gently disengaging herself from his arms.

“The hour is advancing, and it is damp here, my love.  You will be cold,” said Nino, protesting against delay as best he could.

“No; and I must talk to you.”  She sat down, but Nino pulled off his cloak and threw it round her.  She motioned him to sit beside her, and raised the edge of the heavy mantle with her hand.  “I think it is big enough,” said she.

“I think so,” returned Nino; and so the pair sat side by side and hand in hand, wrapped in the same garment, deep in the shadow of the rocky doorway.  “You got my letter, dearest?” asked Nino, hoping to remind her of his proposal.

“Yes, it reached me safely.  Tell me, Nino, have you thought of me in all this time?” she asked, in her turn; and there was the joy of the answer already in the question.

“As the earth longs for the sun, my love, through all the dark night.  You have never been out of my thoughts.  You know that I went away to find you in Paris, and I went to London, too; and everywhere I sang to you, hoping you might be somewhere in the great audiences.  But you never went to Paris at all.  When I got Professor Grandi’s letter saying that he had discovered you, I had but one night more to sing, and then I flew to you.”

“And now you have found me,” said Hedwig, looking lovingly up to him through the shadow.

“Yes, dear one; and I have come but just in time.  You are in great trouble now, and I am here to save you from it all.  Tell me, what is it all about?”

“Ah, Nino dear, it is very terrible.  My father declared I must marry Baron Benoni, or end my days here, in this dismal castle.”  Nino ground his teeth, and drew her even closer to him, so that her head rested on his shoulder.

“Infamous wretch!” he muttered.

“Hush, Nino,” said Hedwig gently; “he is my father.”

“Oh, I mean Benoni, of course,” exclaimed Nino quickly.

“Yes, dear, of course you do,” Hedwig responded.  “But my father has changed his mind.  He no longer wishes me to marry the Jew.”

“Why is that, sweetheart?”

“Because Benoni was very rude to me to-day, and I told my father, who said he should leave the house at once.”

“I hope he will kill the hound!” cried Nino, with rising anger.  “And I am glad your father has still the decency to protect you from insult.”

“My father is very unkind, Nino mio, but he is an officer and a gentleman.”

“Oh, I know what that means, ­a gentleman!  Fie on your gentleman!  Do you love me less, Hedwig, because I am of the people?”

For all answer Hedwig threw her arms round his neck, passionately.

“Tell me, love, would you think better of me if I were noble?”

“Ah, Nino, how most unkind!  Oh, no:  I love you, and for your sake I love the people, ­the strong, brave people, whose man you are.”

“God bless you, dear, for that,” he answered tenderly.  “But say, will your father take you back to Rome, now that he has sent away Benoni?”

“No, he will not.  He swears that I shall stay here until I can forget you.”  The fair head rested again on his shoulder.

“It appears to me that your most high and noble father has amazingly done perjury in his oath,” remarked Nino, resting his hand on her hair, from which the thick black veil that had muffled it had slipped back.  “What do you think, love?”

“I do not know,” replied Hedwig, in a low voice.

“Why, dear, you have only to close this door behind you, and you may laugh at your prison and your jailer!”

“Oh, I could not, Nino; and besides, I am weak, and cannot walk very far.  And we should have to walk very far, you know.”

“You, darling?  Do you think I would not and could not bear you from here to Rome in these arms?” As he spoke he lifted her bodily from the step.

“Oh!” she cried, half frightened, half thrilled, “how strong you are, Nino!”

“Not I; it is my love.  But I have beasts close by, waiting even now; good stout mules, that will think you are only a little silver butterfly that has flitted down from the moon for them to carry.”

“Have you done that, dear?” she asked, doubtfully, while her heart leaped at the thought.  “But my father has horses,” she added, on a sudden, in a very anxious voice.

“Never fear, my darling.  No horse could scratch a foothold in the place where our mules are as safe as in a meadow.  Come, dear heart, let us be going.”  But Hedwig hung her head, and did not stir.  “What is it, Hedwig?” he asked, bending down to her and softly stroking her hair.  “Are you afraid of me?”

“No, ­oh no!  Not of you, Nino, ­never of you!” She pushed her face close against him, very lovingly.

“What then, dear?  Everything is ready for us.  Why should we wait?”

“Is it quite right, Nino?”

“Ah, yes, love, it is right, ­the rightest right that ever was!  How can such love as ours be wrong?  Have I not to-day implored your father to relent and let us marry?  I met him in the road ­”

“He told me, dear.  It was brave of you.  And he frightened me by making me think he had killed you.  Oh, I was so frightened, you do not know!”

“Cruel ­” Nino checked the rising epithet.  “He is your father, dear, and I must not speak my mind.  But since he will not let you go, what will you do?  Will you cease to love me, at his orders?”

“Oh, Nino, never, never, never!”

“But will you stay here, to die of solitude and slow torture?” He pleaded passionately.

“I ­I suppose so, Nino,” she said, in a choking sob.

“Now, by Heaven, you shall not!” He clasped her in his arms, raising her suddenly to her feet.  Her head fell back upon his shoulder, and he could see her turn pale to the very lips, for his sight was softened to the gloom, and her eyes shone like stars of fire at him from beneath the half-closed lids.  But the faint glory of coming happiness was already on her face, and he knew that the last fight was fought for love’s mastery.

“Shall we ever part again, love?” he whispered, close to her.  She shook her head, her starry eyes still fastened on his.

“Then come, my own dear one, ­come,” and he gently drew her with him.  He glanced, naturally enough, at the step where they had sat, and something dark caught his eye just above it.  Holding her hand in one of his, as though fearful lest she should escape him, he stooped quickly and snatched the thing from the stair with the other.  It was Hedwig’s little bundle.

“What have you here?” he asked.  “Oh, Hedwig, you said you would not come?” he added, half laughing, as he discovered what it was.

“I was not sure that I should like you, Nino,” she said, as he again put his arm about her.  Hedwig started violently.  “What is that?” she exclaimed, in a terrified whisper.

“What, love?”

“The noise!  Oh, Nino, there is someone on the staircase, coming down.  Quick, ­quick!  Save me, for love’s sake!”

But Nino had heard, too, the clumsy but rapid groping of heavy feet on the stairs above, far up in the winding stone steps, but momentarily coming nearer.  Instantly he pushed Hedwig out to the street, tossing the bundle on the ground, withdrew the heavy key, shut the door, and double turned the lock from the outside, removing the key again at once.  Nino is a man who acts suddenly and infallibly in great emergencies.  He took Hedwig in his arms, and ran with her to where the mules were standing, twenty yards away.

The stout countryman from Subiaco, who had spent some years in breaking stones out of consideration for the Government, as a general confession of the inaccuracy of his views regarding foreigners, was by no means astonished when he saw Nino appear with a woman in his arms.  Together they seated her on one of the mules, and ran beside her, for there was no time for Nino to mount.  They had to pass the door, and through all its oaken thickness they could hear the curses and imprecations of someone inside, and the wood and iron shook with repeated blows and kicks.  The quick-witted muleteer saw the bundle lying where Nino had tossed it, and he picked it up as he ran.

Both Nino and Hedwig recognised Benoni’s voice, but neither spoke as they hurried up the street into the bright moonlight, she riding and Nino running as he led the other beast at a sharp trot.  In five minutes they were out of the little town, and Nino, looking back, could see that the broad white way behind them was clear of all pursuers.  Then he himself mounted, and the countryman trotted by his side.

Nino brought his mule close to Hedwig’s.  She was an accomplished horsewoman, and had no difficulty in accommodating herself to the rough country saddle.  Their hands met, and the mules, long accustomed to each other’s company, moved so evenly that the gentle bond was not broken.  But although Hedwig’s fingers twined lovingly with his, and she often turned and looked at him from beneath her hanging veil, she was silent for a long time.  Nino respected her mood, half guessing what she felt, and no sound was heard save an occasional grunt from the countryman as he urged the beasts, and the regular clatter of the hoofs on the stony road.

To tell the truth, Nino was overwhelmed with anxiety; for his quick wits had told him that Benoni, infuriated by the check he had received, would lose no time in remounting the stairs, saddling a horse, and following them.  If only they could reach the steeper part of the ravine they could bid defiance to any horse that ever galloped, for Benoni must inevitably come to grief if he attempted a pursuit into the desolate Serra.  He saw that Hedwig had not apprehended the danger, when once the baron was stopped by the door, conceiving in her heart the impression that he was a prisoner in his own trap.  Nevertheless, they urged the beasts onward hotly, if one may use the word of the long, heavy trot of a mountain mule.  The sturdy countryman never paused or gasped for breath, keeping pace in a steady, determined fashion.

But they need not have been disturbed, for Hedwig’s guess was nearer the truth than Nino’s reasoning.  They knew it later, when Temistocle found them in Rome, and I may as well tell you how it happened.  When he reached the head of the staircase, he took the key from the one side to the other, locked the door, as agreed, and sat down to wait for Hedwig’s rap.  He indeed suspected that it would never come, for he had only pretended not to see the mules; but the prospect of further bribes made him anxious not to lose sight of his mistress, and certainly not to disobey her, in case she really returned.  The staircase opened into the foot of the tower, a broad stone chamber, with unglazed windows.

Temistocle sat himself down to wait on an old bench that had been put there, and the light of the full moon made the place as bright as day.  Now the lock on the door was rusty, like the one below, and creaked loudly every time it was turned.  But Temistocle fancied it would not be heard in the great building, and felt quite safe.  Sitting there, he nodded and fell asleep, tired with the watching.

Benoni had probably passed a fiery half hour with the count.  But I have no means of knowing what was said on either side; at all events, he was in the castle still, and, what is more, he was awake.  When Hedwig opened the upper door and closed it behind her, the sound was distinctly audible to his quick ears, and he probably listened and speculated, and finally yielded to his curiosity.

However that may have been, he found Temistocle asleep in the tower basement, saw the key in the lock, guessed whence the noise had come, and turned it.  The movement woke Temistocle, who started to his feet, and recognised the tall figure of the baron just entering the door.  Too much confused for reflection, he called aloud, and the baron disappeared down the stairs.  Temistocle listened at the top, heard distinctly the shutting and locking of the lower door, and a moment afterwards Benoni’s voice, swearing in every language at once, came echoing up.

“They have escaped,” said Temistocle to himself.  “If I am not mistaken, I had better do the same.”  With that he locked the upper door, put the key in his pocket, and departed on tiptoe.  Having his hat and his overcoat with him, and his money in his pocket, he determined to leave the baron shut up in the staircase.  He softly left the castle by the front gate, of which he knew the tricks, and he was not heard of for several weeks afterwards.  As for Benoni, he was completely caught, and probably spent the remainder of the night in trying to wake the inmates of the building.  So you see that Nino need not have been so much disturbed after all.

While these things were happening Nino and Hedwig got fairly away, and no one but a mountaineer of the district could possibly have overtaken them.  Just as they reached the place where the valley suddenly narrows to a gorge, the countryman spoke.  It was the first word that had been uttered by any of the party in an hour, so great had been their haste and anxiety.

“I see a man with a beast,” he said, shortly.

“So do I,” answered Nino.  “I expect to meet a friend here.”  Then he turned to Hedwig.  “Dear one,” he said, “we are to have a companion now, who says he is a very proper person.”

“A companion?” repeated Hedwig, anxiously.

“Yes.  We are to have the society of no less a person than the Professor Cornelio Grandi, of the University of Rome.  He will go with us, and be a witness.”

“Yes,” said Hedwig, expecting more, “a witness ­”

“A witness of our marriage, dear lady; I trust to-morrow, ­or to-day, since midnight is past.”  He leaned far over his saddle-bow, as the mules clambered up the rough place.  Her hand went out to him, and he took it.  They were so near that I could see them.  He dropped the reins and bared his head, and so, riding, he bent himself still farther, and pressed his lips upon her hand:  and that was all the marriage contract that was sealed between them.  But it was enough.

There I sat, upon a stone in the moonlight, just below the trees, waiting for them.  And there I had been for two mortal hours or more, left to meditate upon the follies of professors in general and of myself in particular.  I was beginning to wonder whether Nino would come at all, and I can tell you I was glad to see the little caravan.  Ugh! it is an ugly place to be alone in.

They rode up, and I went forward to meet them.

“Nino mio,” said I, “you have made me pass a terrible time here.  Thank Heaven, you are come; and the contessina, too!  Your most humble servant, signorina.”  I bowed low and Hedwig bent a little forward, but the moon was just behind her, and I could not see her face.

“I did not think we should meet so soon, Signor Grandi.  But I am very glad.”  There was a sweet shyness in the little speech that touched me.  I am sure she was afraid that it was not yet quite right, or at least that there should be some other lady in the party.

“Courage, Messer Cornelio,” said Nino.  “Mount your donkey, and let us be on our way.”

“Is not the contessina tired?” I inquired.  “You might surely rest a little here.”

“Caro mio,” answered Nino, “we must be safe at the top of the pass before we rest.  We were so unfortunate as to wake his excellency the Baron Benoni out of some sweet dream or other, and perhaps he is not far behind us.”

An encounter with the furious Jew was not precisely attractive to me, and I was on my donkey before you could count a score.  I suggested to Nino that it would be wiser if the countryman led the way through the woods, and I followed him.  Then the contessina would be behind me, and Nino would bring up the rear.  It occurred to me that the mules might outstrip my donkey if I went last, and so I might be left to face the attack, if any came; whereas, if I were in front, the others could not go any faster than I.