Adventure Magazine Cover — page 164: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

158 jerkin I therefore donned, a cap of red velvet befitting my rank, and hose of doeskin. A cloak I refused, though the nights were cool, and for arms I took but a short sword such as my infantry used—something after the Roman pattern; handy enough to be used as a dagger almost, and heavy enough to split a thick skull with its edge in case of need. Benedetto assisted at this robing, grave and preoccupied. ‘Tis not much,” said he, at last. ‘“‘Naked came we into the world,” said I, trying to jest my mind away from the leave which must now be taken. Benedetto fathomed this intent, as I heard from his tone, when he asked was I now ready to descend the rope. “In a few minutes,” I told him. “Go thou to the turret, and see that all is ready. Is the guard at the foot of the precipice?” “It was not when last I looked,” says my lieutenant, staring at his shoon. “Tf it is now, take four or five arque- busiers, and have them ready to distract their attention with firing at them, what time I slide down.”’ I passed to the door. “In five minutes, then; have allready.” And so I went across the court to the apartments of the countess; rapped on the door as was my custom; was admitted by the maid, who forthwith made a reverence and disappeared; and perceived, by the smile with which Anita rose from her couch before the fire, that my wish was granted, and that she was yet ignorant of the busi- ness toward. Even at that time, ignorant and infatuated as I was, it was known to me that women take more thought of the man- ner of any communication, than of its matter; they would rather an obscene song by a sweet singer, than a hymn in a raucous voice; they would be condemned to death by a polite judge, rather than they would be proclaimed Queens of Egypt by a herald that wheezed. Let it not be thought that my trust in Anita was not perfect; only, in this situation, I had fain save her agony, and myself the reflection of it; so that I wished to break the news of my departure in mine own way. In the first instant she saw my unaccus- tomed dress, and her smile died. “Tt is a small matter,” says I, “though annoying. Scarlatti doth demand to dis- cuss the terms of his engagement with me F. R. Buckley in person ere he will come to our relief. So I go to pay him a visit—it will take me three days at the most; and what I would beg of thee, sweetheart, while I shall be gone, is that—” She broke in on me, her hands clasped, and the fingers playing about among them- selves. “Francesco, deceive me not. Talk not as if this were a party of pleasure.” ‘“‘My intention was not so,” said I, taking half a step back as she moved forward. ‘Anita, thou knowest without more words, what this is, and why I do it. ’Tis thou hast shown me the future, and what may lie therein. If Scarlatti come not, there will benofuture. ‘Therefore, come he must, and shall. There is no more to be said— except @ rivederci. I go; soon I shall re- turn.” Her eyes held mine; I made an effort, in accord with my plan, to turn and go, but it was impossible. Her throat was trembling; she put up one white hand to hide it, in vain; and of a sudden, burst forth: “How if thou art killed? How if thou return no more—no more?” The next instant, she was in my arms, her smooth silks crushed to my rough leather, her wet cheek against mine, while before mine eyes, fire, candles, and the stars that shone through the windows, seemed to merge into a great blaze of light. “Do not go—do not go,” she sobbed, clutching her soft arm tighter and tighter about my neck; and for some time I could not speak. “Tt is necessary,” I said at last, “thou knowest it better than I. Come, darling; come, sweetheart; my love.” She still sobbed, but, by a little, her grasp relaxed. “We are not of the ordinary,” I said. “Come, come, I shall return—and trium- phant. With thee before me, I can not do less than I do; and I can not fail. Thou knowest our end and aim; this is the way toward it, and the only way. Shall I refuse to take it?” She turned away, and stood with her back to me, her bare arm across her eyes. “Tf thou art killed, I will kill myself that same day,” says she, drearily; and against that made [ no protest. “Tf it is written that I die, it is no matter to me,” I said. ‘For I have lived. Thou hast taught me wherefore I was born; if COMICLoOokKSs C©