time looked full at her; his eyes were dim, and his face was pale and very troubled.
'Oh, child, what can I say to you?' he murmured. 'If you would only have listened in the summer; now it is too late. Have you thought what it is that you do?'
'Do not speak of me. It is of no use.'
'I fear it is of no use; yet-even now-dear, I would always befriend you; I would serve you in any way. You cared for Joconda; think of her a little. If you would still put your trust in me, you might still be saved for a better life than this one-hiding in the heart of the earth with a condemned felon as your companion. Nay,-we will say he is condemned unjustly. His city does not think so. Once discovered he must suffer his sentence; and you, as the one who has hidden him and braved the law for him, will be condemned as well.'
'Oh, I know,' she answered quietly; 'they will punish me with him-now.'
Her words were quiet, but in her eyes there shone gladness and exultation.
A revulsion of feeling came over him as he heard. He thought her devotion hardihood; he thought her loyalty audacity.
'They would punish you, no doubt,' he
