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Once I heard a woman's voice, but she cried in Italian to a fellow-servant named Enrichetta, hence she was probably the maid who had admitted me. Moroni, after he had concluded his examination, seemed a little puzzled. No doubt I had, in my ignorance, described some imaginary symptom which was not in accordance with what he expected to find.
And none wept more convincingly that the little maid Enrichetta, an orphan of tender years whom the lady had taken into her service as an act of charity and forthwith set to work like a galley-slave. The child was convulsed with sobs.
"We are going back to the Sabine Hills, Enrichetta and I." The old man rubbed his hands joyously. "Eh, carissime?" "Yes, father," with a smile which had neither gladness nor interest in it. "But dare you?" asked Hillard in an undertone. "Yes. A great noble has interceded for me. The news of his success came this early morning. I am free; I may walk with men again."
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