"I gave her food and sent to Kishm for a hakim who came and brought her medicine. But instead of making her better, it made her worse. Day by day she wasted away until she was but a shadow of her former self. And then one day, seeing that her life was drawing to a close, I sent for the Pasha, but the messenger returned with word that the Pasha would not come. As a last resort, for his dying wife's sake, I went to his home myself, telling Catherine Lucio whither I was bound. My words brought a ray of sunlight into her soul, one little flicker of hope that he would come and she would be forgiven, but my mission was fruitless. Abdulla Pasha was obdurate. I pleaded with him. He only snarled at me. I coaxed, I prayed, I begged, but his only answer was a curse. I was fighting the cause of a dying woman, a repentant woman, but my supplications had failed, and I returned to Constantine with a heavy heart. What would she say when I told her he would not come? That was the question which was biting at my heart. How should I tell her the truth? And I felt very sad as I thought how great would be the shock to her feeble frame. But my fears were wasted, for when I reached the fortress, Catherine Lucio was dead. I gazed upon her face from which all traces of wickedness had flown. It had been beautiful in life, it was celestial in death. It was the face of Catherine Lucio idealized.
"I sent formal notice to the Pasha of her death. He never came near the island, but I believe the blow was a great one to him and the cup of sorrow from
