corn that the cotters kept for bread, then bathed, and shook bis barcarolo dress into tbe best order that it would assume, and thought what food in this wild waste he could find for her. That he was anhungered and athirst himself, that there was fever on him still from his injuries, and that, despite the plunge into the water's refreshing coldness, his bruised frame ached and his breath was hard to draw, he scarcely felt; Idalia was his only memory. For her, be could have not alone the lion's strength that he had said, but a woman's gentleness, an Indian's patience, an Arab's keenness; and nothing was too slight for him to heed, as nothing too great for him to brave, that could be offered in her service and her cause. That he had had no sleep, no rest, no food, weighed nothing with him; in the heat of the early day he sought with unwearying diligence for such things as he thought could tempt her. Wild strawberries on their own mosses; beccaficos that haunted the place, and that he slew with a sling and baked in clay; dainyy fish that he speared with the knife from his sash, wading waist-deep in the pool—these were all the woods would yield him. But love for her had made him an artist and a poet; he served them in such graceful fashion, covering the rude table of the cabin with a cloth of greenest
