Thewordsweresomuchcruderthananythathadeverpassedbetweenthemthatthecolorrosetoherface；butsheheldhisstartledgaze。
“Youknowgirlsarenotquiteasunsophisticatedastheyusedtobe。Areyousurprisedthatsuchanideashouldoccurtoher？”
Hisowncoloransweredhers：itwastheonlyreplythatcametohim。
Mrs。Vervainwenton，smoothly：“Isupposeditmighthavestruckyouthatthereweretimeswhenwepresentedthatappearance。“
Hemadeanimpatientgesture。“Aman'spastishisown！”
“Perhaps——itcertainlyneverbelongstothewomanwhohassharedit。Butonelearnssuchtruthsonlybyexperience；andMissGaynorisnaturallyinexperienced。“
“Ofcourse——but——supposingheractanaturalone——“heflounderedlamentablyamonghisinnuendoes——“Istilldon'tsee——howtherewasanything——“
“Anythingtotakeholdof？Therewasn't——“
“Well，then——？”escapedhim，incrudesatisfaction；butasshedidnotcompletethesentencehewentonwithafalteringlaugh：
“Shecanhardlyobjecttotheexistenceofamerefriendshipbetweenus！”
“Butshedoes，“saidMrs。Vervain。
Thursdalestoodperplexed。Hehadseen，onthepreviousday，notraceofjealousyorresentmentinhisbetrothed：hecouldstillhearthecandidringofthegirl'spraiseofMrs。Vervain。Ifsheweresuchanabyssofinsincerityastodissembledistrustundersuchfrankness，shemustatleastbemoresubtlethantobringherdoubtstoherrivalforsolution。Thesituationseemedonethroughwhichonecouldnolongermoveinapenumbra，andheletinaburstoflightwiththedirectquery：“Won'tyouexplainwhatyoumean？”
Mrs。Vervainsatsilent，notprovokingly，asthoughtoprolonghisdistress，butasif，intheattenuatedphraseologyhehadtaughther，itwasdifficulttofindwordsrobustenoughtomeethischallenge。Itwasthefirsttimehehadeveraskedhertoexplainanything；andshehadlivedsolongindreadofofferingelucidationswhichwerenotwanted，thatsheseemedunabletoproduceoneonthespot。
Atlastshesaidslowly：“Shecametofindoutifyouwerereallyfree。“
Thursdalecoloredagain。“Free？”hestammered，withasenseofphysicaldisgustatcontactwithsuchcrassness。
“Yes——ifIhadquitedonewithyou。“Shesmiledinrecoveredsecurity。“Itseemsshelikesclearoutlines；shehasapassionfordefinitions。“
“Yes——well？”hesaid，wincingattheechoofhisownsubtlety。
“Well——andwhenItoldherthatyouhadneverbelongedtome，shewantedmetodefineMYstatus——toknowexactlywhereIhadstoodallalong。“
Thursdalesatgazingatherintently；hishandwasnotyetontheclue。“Andevenwhenyouhadtoldherthat——“
“EvenwhenIhadtoldherthatIhadHADnostatus——thatIhadneverstoodanywhere，inanysenseshemeant，“saidMrs。Vervain，slowly——“eventhenshewasn'tsatisfied，itseems。“
Heutteredanuneasyexclamation。“Shedidn'tbelieveyou，youmean？”
“ImeanthatsheDIDbelieveme：toothoroughly。“
“Well，then——inGod'sname，whatdidshewant？”
“Somethingmore——thosewerethewordssheused。“
“Somethingmore？Between——betweenyouandme？Isitaconundrum？”Helaughedawkwardly。
“Girlsarenotwhattheywereinmyday；theyarenolongerforbiddentocontemplatetherelationofthesexes。“
“Soitseems！”hecommented。“Butsince，inthiscase，therewasn'tany——“hebrokeoff，catchingthedawnofarevelationinhergaze。
“That'sjustit。Theunpardonableoffencehasbeen——inournotoffending。“
Heflunghimselfdowndespairingly。“Igiveitup！——Whatdidyoutellher？”heburstoutwithsuddencrudeness。
“Theexacttruth。IfIhadonlyknown，“shebrokeoffwithabeseechingtenderness，“won'tyoubelievethatIwouldstillhaveliedforyou？”
“Liedforme？Whyonearthshouldyouhaveliedforeitherofus？”
“Tosaveyou——tohideyoufromhertothelast！AsI'vehiddenyoufrommyselfalltheseyears！”Shestoodupwithasuddentragicimportinhermovement。“Youbelievemecapableofthat，don'tyou？IfIhadonlyguessed——butIhaveneverknownagirllikeher；shehadthetruthoutofmewithaspring。“
“ThetruththatyouandIhadnever——“
“Hadnever——neverinalltheseyears！Oh，sheknewwhy——shemeasuredusbothinaflash。Shedidn'tsuspectmeofhavinghaggledwithyou——herwordspeltedmelikehail。'Hejusttookwhathewanted——siftedandsortedyoutosuithistaste。Burntoutthegoldandleftaheapofcinders。Andyoulethim——youletyourselfbecutinbits'——shemixedhermetaphorsalittle——
'becutinbits，andusedordiscarded，whileallthewhileeverydropofbloodinyoubelongedtohim！Buthe'sShylock——andyouhavebledtodeathofthepoundoffleshhehascutoutofyou。'
Butshedespisesmethemost，youknow——farthemost——“Mrs。
Vervainended。
Thewordsfellstrangelyonthescentedstillnessoftheroom：
theyseemedoutofharmonywithitssettingofafternoonintimacy，thekindofintimacyonwhichatanymoment，avisitormightintrudewithoutperceptiblyloweringtheatmosphere。Itwasasthoughagrandopera-singerhadstrainedtheacousticsofaprivatemusic-room。
Thursdalestoodup，facinghishostess。Halftheroomwasbetweenthem，buttheyseemedtostarecloseateachothernowthattheveilsofreticenceandambiguityhadfallen。
Hisfirstwordswerecharacteristic。“SheDOESdespiseme，then？”heexclaimed。
“Shethinksthepoundoffleshyoutookwasalittletooneartheheart。“
Hewasexcessivelypale。“Pleasetellmeexactlywhatshesaidofme。“
“Shedidnotspeakmuchofyou：sheisproud。ButIgatherthatwhilesheunderstandsloveorindifference，hereyeshaveneverbeenopenedtothemanyintermediateshadesoffeeling。Atanyrate，sheexpressedanunwillingnesstobetakenwithreservations——shethinksyouwouldhavelovedherbetterifyouhadlovedsomeoneelsefirst。Thepointofviewisoriginal——
sheinsistsonamanwithapast！”
“Oh，apast——ifshe'sserious——Icouldrakeupapast！”hesaidwithalaugh。
“SoIsuggested：butshehashereyesonhisparticularportionofit。Sheinsistsonmakingitatestcase。Shewantedtoknowwhatyouhaddonetome；andbeforeIcouldguessherdriftI
blunderedintotellingher。“
Thursdaledrewadifficultbreath。“Ineversupposed——yourrevengeiscomplete，“hesaidslowly。
Heheardalittlegaspinherthroat。“Myrevenge？WhenIsentforyoutowarnyou——tosaveyoufrombeingsurprisedasIwassurprised？”
“You'reverygood——butit'sratherlatetotalkofsavingme。“
Heheldouthishandinthemechanicalgestureofleave-taking。
“Howyoumustcare！——forIneversawyousodull，“washeranswer。“Don'tyouseethatit'snottoolateformetohelpyou？”Andashecontinuedtostare，shebroughtoutsublimely：
“Taketherest——inimagination！Letitatleastbeofthatmuchusetoyou。TellherIliedtoher——she'stooreadytobelieveit！Andso，afterall，inasense，Isha'n'thavebeenwasted。“
Hisstarehungonher，wideningtoakindofwonder。Shegavethelookbackbrightly，unblushingly，asthoughtheexpedientweretoosimpletoneedobliqueapproaches。Itwasextraordinaryhowafewwordshadsweptthemfromanatmosphereofthemostcomplexdissimulationstothiscontactofnakedsouls。
ItwasnotinThursdaletoexpandwiththepressureoffate；butsomethinginhimcrackedwithit，andtheriftletinnewlight。
Hewentuptohisfriendandtookherhand。
“Youwoulddoit——youwoulddoit！”
Shelookedathim，smiling，butherhandshook。
“Good-by，“hesaid，kissingit。
“Good-by？Youaregoing——？”
“Togetmyletter。“
“Yourletter？Theletterwon'tmatter，ifyouwillonlydowhatIask。“
Hereturnedhergaze。“Imight，Isuppose，withoutbeingoutofcharacter。Only，don'tyouseethatifyourplanhelpedmeitcouldonlyharmher？”
“HarmHER？”
“Tosacrificeyouwouldn'tmakemedifferent。IshallgoonbeingwhatIhavealwaysbeen——siftingandsorting，asshecallsit。DoyouwantmypunishmenttofallonHER？”
Shelookedathimlonganddeeply。“Ah，ifIhadtochoosebetweenyou——！”
“Youwouldlethertakeherchance？ButIcan't，yousee。
Imusttakemypunishmentalone。“
Shedrewherhandaway，sighing。“Oh，therewillbenopunishmentforeitherofyou。“
“Foreitherofus？Therewillbethereadingofherletterforme。“
Sheshookherheadwithaslightlaugh。“Therewillbenoletter。“
Thursdalefacedaboutfromthethresholdwithfreshlifeinhislook。“Noletter？Youdon'tmean——“
“Imeanthatshe'sbeenwithyousinceIsawher——she'sseenyouandheardyourvoice。IfthereISaletter，shehasrecalledit——
fromthefirststation，bytelegraph。“
Heturnedbacktothedoor，forcingananswertohersmile。“ButinthemeanwhileIshallhavereadit，“hesaid。
Thedoorclosedonhim，andshehidhereyesfromthedreadfulemptinessoftheroom。
TheEndTHEHOUSEOFTHEDEADHAND
asfirstpublishedinAtlanticMonthly，August1904
I
“Aboveall，“theletterended，“don'tleaveSienawithoutseeingDoctorLombard'sLeonardo。LombardisaqueeroldEnglishman，amysticoramadmanifthetwoarenotsynonymous，andadevoutstudentoftheItalianRenaissance。HehaslivedforyearsinItaly，exploringitsremotestcorners，andhaslatelypickedupanundoubtedLeonardo，whichcametolightinafarmhousenearBergamo。ItisbelievedtobeoneofthemissingpicturesmentionedbyVasari，andisatanyrate，accordingtothemostcompetentauthorities，agenuineandalmostuntouchedexampleofthebestperiod。
“Lombardisaqueerstick，andjealousofshowinghistreasures；
butwestruckupafriendshipwhenIwasworkingontheSodomasinSienathreeyearsago，andifyouwillgivehimtheenclosedlineyoumaygetapeepattheLeonardo。Probablynotmorethanapeep，though，forIhearherefusestohaveitreproduced。I
wantbadlytouseitinmymonographontheWindsordrawings，sopleaseseewhatyoucandoforme，andifyoucan'tpersuadehimtoletyoutakeaphotographormakeasketch，atleastjotdownadetaileddescriptionofthepictureandgetfromhimallthefactsyoucan。IhearthattheFrenchandItaliangovernmentshaveofferedhimalargeadvanceonhispurchase，butthatherefusestosellatanyprice，thoughhecertainlycan'taffordsuchluxuries；infact，Idon'tseewherehegotenoughmoneytobuythepicture。HelivesintheViaPapaGiulio。“
Wyantsatatthetabled'hoteofhishotel，re-readinghisfriend'sletteroveralateluncheon。HehadbeenfivedaysinSienawithouthavingfoundtimetocallonDoctorLombard；notfromanyindifferencetotheopportunitypresented，butbecauseitwashisfirstvisittothestrangeredcityandhewasstillunderthespellofitsmoreconspicuouswonders——thebrickpalacesflingingouttheirwrought-irontorch-holderswithagestureofarrogantsuzerainty；thegreatcouncil-chamberemblazonedwithcivicallegories；thepageantofPopeJuliusontheLibrarywalls；theSodomassmilingbalefullythroughtheduskofmoulderingchapels——anditwasonlywhenhisfirsthungerwasappeasedthatherememberedthatonecourseinthebanquetwasstilluntasted。
Heputtheletterinhispocketandturnedtoleavetheroom，withanodtoitsonlyotheroccupant，anolive-skinnedyoungmanwithlustrouseyesandalowcollar，whosatontheothersideofthetable，perusingtheFanfulladiDomenica。Thisgentleman，hisdailyvis-a-vis，returnedthenodwithaLatineloquenceofgesture，andWyantpassedontotheante-chamber，wherehepausedtolightacigarette。Hewasjustrestoringthecasetohispocketwhenheheardahurriedstepbehindhim，andthelustrous-
eyedyoungmanadvancedthroughtheglassdoorsofthedining-
room。
“Pardonme，sir，“hesaidinmeasuredEnglish，andwithanintonationofexquisitepoliteness；“youhaveletthisletterfall。“
Wyant，recognizinghisfriend'snoteofintroductiontoDoctorLombard，tookitwithawordofthanks，andwasabouttoturnawaywhenheperceivedthattheeyesofhisfellowdinerremainedfixedonhimwithagazeofmelancholyinterrogation。
“Againpardonme，“theyoungmanatlengthventured，“butareyoubychancethefriendoftheillustriousDoctorLombard？”
“No，“returnedWyant，withtheinstinctiveAnglo-Saxondistrustofforeignadvances。Then，fearingtoappearrude，hesaidwithaguardedpoliteness：“Perhaps，bytheway，youcantellmethenumberofhishouse。Iseeitisnotgivenhere。“
Theyoungmanbrightenedperceptibly。“Thenumberofthehouseisthirteen；butanyonecanindicateittoyou——itiswellknowninSiena。Itiscalled，“hecontinuedafteramoment，“theHouseoftheDeadHand。“
Wyantstared。“Whataqueername！”hesaid。
“Thenamecomesfromanantiquehandofmarblewhichformanyhundredyearshasbeenabovethedoor。“
Wyantwasturningawaywithagestureofthanks，whentheotheradded：“Ifyouwouldhavethekindnesstoringtwice。“
“Toringtwice？”
“Atthedoctor's。“Theyoungmansmiled。“Itisthecustom。“
ItwasadazzlingMarchafternoon，withashowerofsunfromthemid-blue，andamarshallingofslatycloudsbehindtheumber-
coloredhills。FornearlyanhourWyantloiteredontheLizza，watchingtheshadowsraceacrossthenakedlandscapeandthethunderblackeninthewest；thenhedecidedtosetoutfortheHouseoftheDeadHand。ThemapinhisguidebookshowedhimthattheViaPapaGiuliowasoneofthestreetswhichradiatefromthePiazza，andthitherhebenthiscourse，pausingateveryothersteptofillhiseyewithsomefreshimageofweather-beatenbeauty。Thecloudshadrolledupward，obscuringthesunshineandhanginglikeafunerealbaldachinabovetheprojectingcornicesofDoctorLombard'sstreet，andWyantwalkedforsomedistanceintheshadeofthebeetlingpalacefrontsbeforehiseyefellonadoorwaysurmountedbyasallowmarblehand。Hestoodforamomentstaringupatthestrangeemblem。Thehandwasawoman's——
adeaddroopinghand，whichhungthereconvulsedandhelpless，asthoughithadbeenthrustforthindenunciationofsomeevilmysterywithinthehouse，andhadsunkstrugglingintodeath。
AgirlwhowasdrawingwaterfromthewellinthecourtsaidthattheEnglishdoctorlivedonthefirstfloor，andWyant，passingthroughaglazeddoor，mountedthedampdegreesofavaultedstairwaywithaplasterAEsculapiusmoulderinginanicheonthelanding。FacingtheAEsculapiuswasanotherdoor，andasWyantputhishandonthebell-ropeherememberedhisunknownfriend'sinjunction，andrangtwice。
Hisringwasansweredbyapeasantwomanwithalowforeheadandsmallclose-seteyes，who，afteraprolongedscrutinyofhimself，hiscard，andhisletterofintroduction，lefthimstandinginahigh，coldante-chamberflooredwithbrick。Heheardherwoodenpattensclickdownaninterminablecorridor，andaftersomedelayshereturnedandtoldhimtofollowher。
Theypassedthroughalongsaloon，bareastheante-chamber，butloftilyvaulted，andfrescoedwithaseventeenth-centuryTriumphofScipioorAlexander——martialfiguresfollowingWyantwiththefilmedmelancholygazeofshadesinlimbo。Attheendofthisapartmenthewasadmittedtoasmallerroom，withthesameatmosphereofmortalcold，butshowingmoreobvioussignsofoccupancy。Thewallswerecoveredwithtapestrywhichhadfadedtothegray-browntintsofdecayingvegetation，sothattheyoungmanfeltasthoughhewereenteringasunlessautumnwood。
Againstthesehangingsstoodafewtallcabinetsonheavygiltfeet，andatatableinthewindowthreepersonswereseated：anelderlyladywhowaswarmingherhandsoverabrazier，agirlbentaboveastripofneedle-work，andanoldman。
AsthelatteradvancedtowardWyant，theyoungmanwasconsciousofstaringwithunseemlyintentnessathissmallround-backedfigure，dressedwithshabbydisorderandsurmountedbyawonderfulhead，lean，vulpine，eagle-beakedasthatofsomeart-
lovingdespotoftheRenaissance：aheadcombiningthevenerablehairandlargeprominenteyesofthehumanistwiththegreedyprofileoftheadventurer。Wyant，inmusingontheItalianportrait-medalsofthefifteenthcentury，hadoftenfanciedthatonlyinthatperiodoffierceindividualismcouldtypessoparadoxicalhavebeenproduced；yetthesubtlecraftsmenwhocommittedthemtothebronzehadneverdrawnafacemorestrangelystampedwithcontradictorypassionsthanthatofDoctorLombard。
“Iamgladtoseeyou，“hesaidtoWyant，extendingahandwhichseemedamereframeworkheldtogetherbyknottedveins。“Weleadaquietlifehereandreceivefewvisitors，butanyfriendofProfessorClyde'siswelcome。“Then，withagesturewhichincludedthetwowomen，headdeddryly：“MywifeanddaughteroftentalkofProfessorClyde。“
“Ohyes——heusedtomakemesuchnicetoast；theydon'tunderstandtoastinItaly，“saidMrs。Lombardinahighplaintivevoice。
Itwouldhavebeendifficult，fromDoctorLombard'smannerandappearancetoguesshisnationality；buthiswifewassoinconscientlyandineradicablyEnglishthateventhesilhouetteofhercapseemedaprotestagainstContinentallaxities。Shewasastoutfairwoman，withpalecheeksnettedwithredlines。
Abroochwithaminiatureportraitsustainedabogwoodwatch-
chainuponherbosom，andatherelbowlayaheapofknittingandanoldcopyofTheQueen。
Theyounggirl，whohadremainedstanding，wasaslimreplicaofhermother，withanapple-cheekedfaceandopaqueblueeyes。Hersmallheadwasprodigallyladenwithbraidsofdullfairhair，andshemighthavehadakindoftransientprettinessbutforthesullendroopofherroundmouth。Itwashardtosaywhetherherexpressionimpliedill-temperorapathy；butWyantwasstruckbythecontrastbetweenthefiercevitalityofthedoctor'sageandtheinanimatenessofhisdaughter'syouth。
Seatinghimselfinthechairwhichhishostadvanced，theyoungmantriedtoopentheconversationbyaddressingtoMrs。LombardsomerandomremarkonthebeautiesofSiena。Theladymurmuredaresignedassent，andDoctorLombardinterposedwithasmile：“Mydearsir，mywifeconsidersSienaamostsalubriousspot，andisfavorablyimpressedbythecheapnessofthemarketing；butshedeploresthetotalabsenceofmuffinsandcannelcoal，andcannotresignherselftotheItalianmethodofdustingfurniture。“
“Buttheydon't，youknow——theydon'tdustit！”Mrs。Lombardprotested，withoutshowinganyresentmentofherhusband'smanner。
“Precisely——theydon'tdustit。SincewehavelivedinSienawehavenotonceseenthecobwebsremovedfromthebattlementsoftheMangia。Canyouconceiveofsuchhousekeeping？MywifehasneveryetdaredtowriteithometoherauntsatBonchurch。“
Mrs。Lombardacceptedinsilencethisremarkablestatementofherviews，andherhusband，withamalicioussmileatWyant'sembarrassment，plantedhimselfsuddenlybeforetheyoungman。
“Andnow，“saidhe，“doyouwanttoseemyLeonardo？”
“DOI？”criedWyant，onhisfeetinaflash。
Thedoctorchuckled。“Ah，“hesaid，withakindofcrooningdeliberation，“that'sthewaytheyallbehave——that'swhattheyallcomefor。“Heturnedtohisdaughterwithanothervariationofmockeryinhissmile。“Don'tfancyit'sforyourbeauxyeux，mydear；orforthematurecharmsofMrs。Lombard，“headded，glaringsuddenlyathiswife，whohadtakenupherknittingandwassoftlymurmuringoverthenumberofherstitches。
Neitherladyappearedtonoticehispleasantries，andhecontinued，addressinghimselftoWyant：“Theyallcome——theyallcome；butmanyarecalledandfewarechosen。“Hisvoicesanktosolemnity。“WhileIlive，“hesaid，“nounworthyeyeshalldesecratethatpicture。ButIwillnotdomyfriendClydetheinjusticetosupposethathewouldsendanunworthyrepresentative。Hetellsmehewishesadescriptionofthepictureforhisbook；andyoushalldescribeittohim——ifyoucan。“
Wyanthesitated，notknowingwhetheritwasapropitiousmomenttoputinhisappealforaphotograph。
“Well，sir，“hesaid，“youknowClydewantsmetotakeawayallI
canofit。“
DoctorLombardeyedhimsardonically。“You'rewelcometotakeawayallyoucancarry，“hereplied；adding，asheturnedtohisdaughter：“Thatis，ifhehasyourpermission，Sybilla。“
Thegirlrosewithoutaword，andlayingasideherwork，tookakeyfromasecretdrawerinoneofthecabinets，whilethedoctorcontinuedinthesamenoteofgrimjocularity：“Foryoumustknowthatthepictureisnotmine——itismydaughter's。“
HefollowedwithevidentamusementthesurprisedglancewhichWyantturnedontheyounggirl'simpassivefigure。
“Sybilla，“hepursued，“isavotaryofthearts；shehasinheritedherfondfather'spassionfortheunattainable。
Luckily，however，shealsorecentlyinheritedatidylegacyfromhergrandmother；andhavingseentheLeonardo，onwhichitsdiscovererhadplacedapricefarbeyondmyreach，shetookastepwhichdeservestogodowntohistory：sheinvestedherwholeinheritanceinthepurchaseofthepicture，thusenablingmetospendmyclosingyearsincommunionwithoneoftheworld'smasterpieces。Mydearsir，couldAntigonedomore？”
Theobjectofthisstrangeeulogyhadmeanwhiledrawnasideoneofthetapestryhangings，andfittedherkeyintoaconcealeddoor。
“Come，“saidDoctorLombard，“letusgobeforethelightfailsus。“
WyantglancedatMrs。Lombard，whocontinuedtoknitimpassively。
“No，no，“saidhishost，“mywifewillnotcomewithus。Youmightnotsuspectitfromherconversation，butmywifehasnofeelingforart——Italianart，thatis；fornooneisfonderofourearlyVictorianschool。“
“Frith'sRailwayStation，youknow，“saidMrs。Lombard，smiling。
“Ilikeananimatedpicture。“
MissLombard，whohadunlockedthedoor，heldbackthetapestrytoletherfatherandWyantpassout；thenshefollowedthemdownanarrowstonepassagewithanotherdooratitsend。Thisdoorwasiron-barred，andWyantnoticedthatithadacomplicatedpatentlock。Thegirlfittedanotherkeyintothelock，andDoctorLombardledthewayintoasmallroom。Thedarkpanellingofthisapartmentwasirradiatedbystreamsofyellowlightslantingthroughthedisbandedthunderclouds，andinthecentralbrightnesshungapictureconcealedbyacurtainoffadedvelvet。
“Alittletoobright，Sybilla，“saidDoctorLombard。Hisfacehadgrownsolemn，andhismouthtwitchednervouslyashisdaughterdrewalinendraperyacrosstheupperpartofthewindow。
“Thatwilldo——thatwilldo。“HeturnedimpressivelytoWyant。
“Doyouseethepomegranatebudinthisrug？Placeyourselfthere——keepyourleftfootonit，please。Andnow，Sybilla，drawthecord。“
MissLombardadvancedandplacedherhandonacordhiddenbehindthevelvetcurtain。
“Ah，“saidthedoctor，“onemoment：Ishouldlikeyou，whilelookingatthepicture，tohaveinmindafewlinesofverse。
Sybilla——“
Withouttheslightestchangeofcountenance，andwithapromptnesswhichprovedhertobepreparedfortherequest，MissLombardbegantorecite，inafullroundvoicelikehermother's，St。Bernard'sinvocationtotheVirgin，inthethirty-thirdcantooftheParadise。
“Thankyou，mydear，“saidherfather，drawingadeepbreathassheended。“ThatunapproachablecombinationofvowelsoundspreparesonebetterthananythingIknowforthecontemplationofthepicture。“
Ashespokethefoldsofvelvetslowlyparted，andtheLeonardoappearedinitsframeoftarnishedgold：
FromthenatureofMissLombard'srecitationWyanthadexpectedasacredsubject，andhissurprisewasthereforegreatasthecompositionwasgraduallyrevealedbythewideningdivisionofthecurtain。
Inthebackgroundasteel-coloredriverwoundthroughapalecalcareouslandscape；whiletotheleft，onalonelypeak，acrucifiedChristhunglividagainstindigoclouds。Thecentralfigureoftheforeground，however，wasthatofawomanseatedinanantiquechairofmarblewithbas-reliefsofdancingmaenads。
Herfeetrestedonameadowsprinkledwithminutewild-flowers，andherattitudeofsmilingmajestyrecalledthatofDossoDossi'sCirce。Sheworearedrobe，flowingincloselyflutedlinesfromunderafancifullyembroideredcloak。Aboveherhighforeheadthecrinkledgoldenhairflowedsidewaysbeneathaveil；
onehanddroopedonthearmofherchair；theotherheldupaninvertedhumanskull，intowhichayoungDionysus，smooth，brownandsidelongastheSt。JohnoftheLouvre，pouredastreamofwinefromahigh-poisedflagon。Atthelady'sfeetlaythesymbolsofartandluxury：afluteandarollofmusic，aplatterheapedwithgrapesandroses，thetorsoofaGreekstatuette，andabowloverflowingwithcoinsandjewels；behindher，onthechalkyhilltop，hungthecrucifiedChrist。Ascrollinacorneroftheforegroundborethelegend：LuxMundi。
Wyant，emergingfromthefirstplungeofwonder，turnedinquiringlytowardhiscompanions。Neitherhadmoved。MissLombardstoodwithherhandonthecord，herlidslowered，hermouthdrooping；thedoctor，hisstrangeThoth-likeprofileturnedtowardhisguest，wasstilllostinraptcontemplationofhistreasure。
Wyantaddressedtheyounggirl。
“Youarefortunate，“hesaid，“tobethepossessorofanythingsoperfect。“
“Itisconsideredverybeautiful，“shesaidcoldly。
“Beautiful——BEAUTIFUL！”thedoctorburstout。“Ah，thepoor，wornout，over-workedword！Therearenoadjectivesinthelanguagefreshenoughtodescribesuchpristinebrilliancy；alltheirbrightnesshasbeenwornoffbymisuse。Thinkofthethingsthathavebeencalledbeautiful，andthenlookatTHAT！”
“Itisworthyofanewvocabulary，“Wyantagreed。
“Yes，“DoctorLombardcontinued，“mydaughterisindeedfortunate。ShehaschosenwhatCatholicscallthehigherlife——
thecounselofperfection。Whatotherprivatepersonenjoysthesameopportunityofunderstandingthemaster？WhoelselivesunderthesameroofwithanuntouchedmasterpieceofLeonardo's？
Thinkofthehappinessofbeingalwaysundertheinfluenceofsuchacreation；oflivingINTOit；ofpartakingofitindailyandhourlycommunion！Thisroomisachapel；thesightofthatpictureisasacrament。Whatanatmosphereforayounglifetounfolditselfin！Mydaughterissingularlyblessed。Sybilla，pointoutsomeofthedetailstoMr。Wyant；Iseethathewillappreciatethem。“
ThegirlturnedherdenseblueeyestowardWyant；then，glancingawayfromhim，shepointedtothecanvas。
“Noticethemodelingofthelefthand，“shebeganinamonotonousvoice；“itrecallsthehandoftheMonaLisa。TheheadofthenakedgeniuswillremindyouofthatoftheSt。JohnoftheLouvre，butitismorepurelypaganandisturnedalittlelesstotheright。Theembroideryonthecloakissymbolic：youwillseethattherootsofthisplanthaveburstthroughthevase。
ThisrecallsthefamousdefinitionofHamlet'scharacterinWilhelmMeister。Herearethemysticrose，theflame，andtheserpent，emblemofeternity。Someoftheothersymbolswehavenotyetbeenabletodecipher。“
Wyantwatchedhercuriously；sheseemedtoberecitingalesson。
“Andthepictureitself？”hesaid。“Howdoyouexplainthat？
LuxMundi——whatacuriousdevicetoconnectwithsuchasubject！
Whatcanitmean？”
MissLombarddroppedhereyes：theanswerwasevidentlynotincludedinherlesson。
“What，indeed？”thedoctorinterposed。“Whatdoeslifemean？Asonemaydefineitinahundreddifferentways，soonemayfindahundreddifferentmeaningsinthispicture。Itssymbolismisasmany-facetedasawell-cutdiamond。Who，forinstance，isthatdivinelady？IsitshewhoisthetrueLuxMundi——thelightreflectedfromjewelsandyoungeyes，frompolishedmarbleandclearwatersandstatuesofbronze？OristhattheLightoftheWorld，extinguishedonyonderstormyhill，andisthisladythePrideofLife，feastingblindlyonthewineofiniquity，withherbackturnedtothelightwhichhasshoneforherinvain？
Somethingofboththesemeaningsmaybetracedinthepicture；
buttomeitsymbolizesratherthecentraltruthofexistence：
thatallthatisraisedinincorruptionissownincorruption；
art，beauty，love，religion；thatallourwineisdrunkoutofskulls，andpouredforusbythemysteriousgeniusofaremoteandcruelpast。“
Thedoctor'sfaceblazed：hisbentfigureseemedtostraightenitselfandbecometaller。
“Ah，“hecried，growingmoredithyrambic，“howlightlyyouaskwhatitmeans！Howconfidentlyyouexpectananswer！YethereamIwhohavegivenmylifetothestudyoftheRenaissance；whohaveviolateditstomb，laidopenitsdeadbody，andtracedthecourseofeverymuscle，bone，andartery；whohavesuckeditsverysoulfromthepagesofpoetsandhumanists；whohaveweptandbelievedwithJoachimofFlora，smiledanddoubtedwithAEneasSylviusPiccolomini；whohavepatientlyfollowedtoitssourcetheleastinspirationofthemasters，andgropedinneolithiccavernsandBabylonianruinsforthefirstunfoldingtendrilsofthearabesquesofMantegnaandCrivelli；andItellyouthatIstandabashedandignorantbeforethemysteryofthispicture。Itmeansnothing——itmeansallthings。Itmayrepresenttheperiodwhichsawitscreation；itmayrepresentallagespastandtocome。Therearevolumesofmeaninginthetiniestemblemonthelady'scloak；theblossomsofitsborderarerootedinthedeepestsoilofmythandtradition。Don'taskwhatitmeans，youngman，butbowyourheadinthankfulnessforhavingseenit！”
MissLombardlaidherhandonhisarm。
“Don'texciteyourself，father，“shesaidinthedetachedtoneofaprofessionalnurse。
Heansweredwithadespairinggesture。“Ah，it'seasyforyoutotalk。Youhaveyearsandyearstospendwithit；Iamanoldman，andeverymomentcounts！”
“It'sbadforyou，“sherepeatedwithgentleobstinacy。
Thedoctor'ssacredfuryhadinfactburntitselfout。Hedroppedintoaseatwithdulleyesandslackeninglips，andhisdaughterdrewthecurtainacrossthepicture。
Wyantturnedawayreluctantly。Hefeltthathisopportunitywasslippingfromhim，yethedarednotrefertoClyde'swishforaphotograph。HenowunderstoodthemeaningofthelaughwithwhichDoctorLombardhadgivenhimleavetocarryawayallthedetailshecouldremember。Thepicturewassodazzling，sounexpected，socrossedwithelusiveandcontradictorysuggestions，thatthemostalertobserver，whenplacedsuddenlybeforeit，mustlosehiscoordinatingfacultyinasenseofconfusedwonder。YethowvaluabletoClydetherecordofsuchaworkwouldbe！Insomewaysitseemedtobethesummingupofthemaster'sthought，thekeytohisenigmaticphilosophy。
Thedoctorhadrisenandwaswalkingslowlytowardthedoor。Hisdaughterunlockedit，andWyantfollowedthembackinsilencetotheroominwhichtheyhadleftMrs。Lombard。Thatladywasnolongerthere，andhecouldthinkofnoexcuseforlingering。
Hethankedthedoctor，andturnedtoMissLombard，whostoodinthemiddleoftheroomasthoughawaitingfartherorders。
“Itisverygoodofyou，“hesaid，“toallowoneevenaglimpseofsuchatreasure。“
Shelookedathimwithherodddirectness。“Youwillcomeagain？”shesaidquickly；andturningtoherfathersheadded：
“YouknowwhatProfessorClydeasked。Thisgentlemancannotgivehimanyaccountofthepicturewithoutseeingitagain。“
DoctorLombardglancedathervaguely；hewasstilllikeapersoninatrance。
“Eh？”hesaid，rousinghimselfwithaneffort。
“Isaid，father，thatMr。WyantmustseethepictureagainifheistotellProfessorClydeaboutit，“MissLombardrepeatedwithextraordinaryprecisionoftone。
Wyantwassilent。Hehadthepuzzledsensethathiswisheswerebeingdivinedandgratifiedforreasonswithwhichhewasinnowayconnected。
“Well，well，“thedoctormuttered，“Idon'tsayno——Idon'tsayno。IknowwhatClydewants——Idon'trefusetohelphim。“HeturnedtoWyant。“Youmaycomeagain——youmaymakenotes，“headdedwithasuddeneffort。“Jotdownwhatoccurstoyou。I'mwillingtoconcedethat。“
Wyantagaincaughtthegirl'seye，butitsemphaticmessageperplexedhim。
“You'reverygood，“hesaidtentatively，“butthefactisthepictureissomysterious——sofullofcomplicateddetail——thatI'mafraidnonotesIcouldmakewouldserveClyde'spurposeaswellas——asaphotograph，say。Ifyouwouldallowme——“
MissLombard'sbrowdarkened，andherfatherraisedhisheadfuriously。
“Aphotograph？Aphotograph，didyousay？GoodGod，man，nottenpeoplehavebeenallowedtosetfootinthatroom！A
PHOTOGRAPH？”
Wyantsawhismistake，butsawalsothathehadgonetoofartoretreat。
“Iknow，sir，fromwhatClydehastoldme，thatyouobjecttohavinganyreproductionofthepicturepublished；buthehopedyoumightletmetakeaphotographforhispersonaluse——nottobereproducedinhisbook，butsimplytogivehimsomethingtoworkby。Ishouldtakethephotographmyself，andthenegativewouldofcoursebeyours。Ifyouwishedit，onlyoneimpressionwouldbestruckoff，andthatoneClydecouldreturntoyouwhenhehaddonewithit。“
DoctorLombardinterruptedhimwithasnarl。“Whenhehaddonewithit？Justso：Ithanktheeforthatword！Whenithadbeenre-photographed，drawn，traced，autotyped，passedaboutfromhandtohand，defiledbyeveryignoranteyeinEngland，vulgarizedbytheblunderingpraiseofeveryart-scribblerinEurope！Bah！
I'dassoongiveyouthepictureitself：whydon'tyouaskforthat？”
“Well，sir，“saidWyantcalmly，“ifyouwilltrustmewithit，I'llengagetotakeitsafelytoEnglandandback，andtoletnoeyebutClyde'sseeitwhileitisoutofyourkeeping。“
Thedoctorreceivedthisremarkableproposalinsilence；thenheburstintoalaugh。
“Uponmysoul！”hesaidwithsardonicgoodhumor。
ItwasMissLombard'sturntolookperplexedlyatWyant。Hislastwordsandherfather'sunexpectedreplyhadevidentlycarriedherbeyondherdepth。
“Well，sir，amItotakethepicture？”Wyantsmilinglypursued。
“No，youngman；noraphotographofit。Norasketch，either；
mindthat，——nothingthatcanbereproduced。Sybilla，“hecriedwithsuddenpassion，“sweartomethatthepictureshallneverbereproduced！Nophotograph，nosketch——noworafterward。Doyouhearme？”
“Yes，father，“saidthegirlquietly。
“Thevandals，“hemuttered，“thedesecratorsofbeauty；ifI
thoughtitwouldevergetintotheirhandsI'dburnitfirst，byGod！”HeturnedtoWyant，speakingmorequietly。“Isaidyoumightcomeback——IneverretractwhatIsay。ButyoumustgivemeyourwordthatnoonebutClydeshallseethenotesyoumake。“
Wyantwasgrowingwarm。
“Ifyouwon'ttrustmewithaphotographIwonderyoutrustmenottoshowmynotes！”heexclaimed。
Thedoctorlookedathimwithamalicioussmile。
“Humph！”hesaid；“wouldtheybeofmuchusetoanybody？”
Wyantsawthathewaslosinggroundandcontrolledhisimpatience。
“ToClyde，Ihope，atanyrate，“heanswered，holdingouthishand。Thedoctorshookitwithoutatraceofresentment，andWyantadded：“WhenshallIcome，sir？”
“To-morrow——to-morrowmorning，“criedMissLombard，speakingsuddenly。
Shelookedfixedlyatherfather，andheshruggedhisshoulders。
“Thepictureishers，“hesaidtoWyant。
Intheante-chambertheyoungmanwasmetbythewomanwhohadadmittedhim。Shehandedhimhishatandstick，andturnedtounbarthedoor。Astheboltslippedbackhefeltatouchonhisarm。
“Youhavealetter？”shesaidinalowtone。
“Aletter？”Hestared。“Whatletter？”
Sheshruggedhershoulders，anddrewbacktolethimpass。
II
AsWyantemergedfromthehousehepausedoncemoretoglanceupatitsscarredbrickfacade。Themarblehanddroopedtragicallyabovetheentrance：inthewaninglightitseemedtohaverelaxedintothepassivenessofdespair，andWyantstoodmusingonitshiddenmeaning。ButtheDeadHandwasnottheonlymysteriousthingaboutDoctorLombard'shouse。WhatweretherelationsbetweenMissLombardandherfather？Aboveall，betweenMissLombardandherpicture？Shedidnotlooklikeapersoncapableofadisinterestedpassionforthearts；andtherehadbeenmomentswhenitstruckWyantthatshehatedthepicture。
Theskyattheendofthestreetwasfloodedwithturbulentyellowlight，andtheyoungmanturnedhisstepstowardthechurchofSanDomenico，inthehopeofcatchingthelingeringbrightnessonSodoma'sSt。Catherine。
Thegreatbareaisleswerealmostdarkwhenheentered，andhehadtogropehiswaytothechapelsteps。Underthemomentaryevocationofthesunset，thesaint'sfigureemergedpaleandswooningfromthedusk，andthewarmlightgaveasensualtingetoherecstasy。Thefleshseemedtoglowandheave，theeyelidstotremble；Wyantstoodfascinatedbytheaccidentalcollaborationoflightandcolor。
Suddenlyhenoticedthatsomethingwhitehadflutteredtothegroundathisfeet。Hestoopedandpickedupasmallthinsheetofnote-paper，foldedandsealedlikeanold-fashionedletter，andbearingthesuperscription：——
TotheCountOttavianoCelsi。
Wyantstaredatthismysteriousdocument。Wherehaditcomefrom？Hewasdistinctlyconsciousofhavingseenitfallthroughtheair，closetohisfeet。Heglancedupatthedarkceilingofthechapel；thenheturnedandlookedaboutthechurch。Therewasonlyonefigureinit，thatofamanwhokneltnearthehighaltar。
SuddenlyWyantrecalledthequestionofDoctorLombard'smaid-
servant。Wasthisthelettershehadaskedfor？Hadhebeenunconsciouslycarryingitaboutwithhimalltheafternoon？WhowasCountOttavianoCelsi，andhowcameWyanttohavebeenchosentoactasthatnobleman'sambulantletter-box？
Wyantlaidhishatandstickonthechapelstepsandbegantoexplorehispockets，intheirrationalhopeoffindingtheresomecluetothemystery；buttheyheldnothingwhichhehadnothimselfputthere，andhewasreducedtowonderinghowtheletter，supposingsomeunknownhandtohavebestoweditonhim，hadhappenedtofalloutwhilehestoodmotionlessbeforethepicture。
Atthispointhewasdisturbedbyastepontheflooroftheaisle，andturning，hesawhislustrous-eyedneighborofthetabled'hote。
Theyoungmanbowedandwavedanapologetichand。
“Idonotintrude？”heinquiredsuavely。
Withoutwaitingforareply，hemountedthestepsofthechapel，glancingabouthimwiththeaffableairofanafternooncaller。
“Isee，“heremarkedwithasmile，“thatyouknowthehouratwhichoursaintshouldbevisited。“
Wyantagreedthatthehourwasindeedfelicitous。
Thestrangerstoodbeaminglybeforethepicture。
“Whatgrace！Whatpoetry！”hemurmured，apostrophizingtheSt。
Catherine，butlettinghisglancesliprapidlyaboutthechapelashespoke。
Wyant，detectingthemanoeuvre，murmuredabriefassent。
“Butitiscoldhere——mortallycold；youdonotfinditso？”Theintruderputonhishat。“Itispermittedatthishour——whenthechurchisempty。Andyou，mydearsir——doyounotfeelthedampness？Youareanartist，areyounot？Andtoartistsitispermittedtocovertheheadwhentheyareengagedinthestudyofthepaintings。“
HedartedsuddenlytowardthestepsandbentoverWyant'shat。
“Permitme——coveryourself！”hesaidamomentlater，holdingoutthehatwithaningratiatinggesture。
AlightflashedonWyant。
“Perhaps，“hesaid，lookingstraightattheyoungman，“youwilltellmeyourname。MyownisWyant。“
Thestranger，surprised，butnotdisconcerted，drewforthacoronetedcard，whichheofferedwithalowbow。Onthecardwasengraved：——
IlConteOttavianoCelsi。
“Iammuchobligedtoyou，“saidWyant；“andImayaswelltellyouthattheletterwhichyouapparentlyexpectedtofindintheliningofmyhatisnotthere，butinmypocket。“
Hedrewitoutandhandedittoitsowner，whohadgrownverypale。
“Andnow，“Wyantcontinued，“youwillperhapsbegoodenoughtotellmewhatallthismeans。“
TherewasnomistakingtheeffectproducedonCountOttavianobythisrequest。Hislipsmoved，butheachievedonlyanineffectualsmile。
“Isupposeyouknow，“Wyantwenton，hisangerrisingatthesightoftheother'sdiscomfiture，“thatyouhavetakenanunwarrantableliberty。Idon'tyetunderstandwhatpartIhavebeenmadetoplay，butit'sevidentthatyouhavemadeuseofmetoservesomepurposeofyourown，andIproposetoknowthereasonwhy。“
CountOttavianoadvancedwithanimploringgesture。
“Sir，“hepleaded，“youpermitmetospeak？”
“Iexpectyouto，“criedWyant。“Butnothere，“headded，hearingtheclankoftheverger'skeys。“Itisgrowingdark，andweshallbeturnedoutinafewminutes。“
Hewalkedacrossthechurch，andCountOttavianofollowedhimoutintothedesertedsquare。
“Now，“saidWyant，pausingonthesteps。
TheCount，whohadregainedsomemeasureofself-possession，begantospeakinahighkey，withanaccompanimentofconciliatorygesture。
“Mydearsir——mydearMr。Wyant——youfindmeinanabominableposition——that，asamanofhonor，Iimmediatelyconfess。Ihavetakenadvantageofyou——yes！Ihavecountedonyouramiability，yourchivalry——toofar，perhaps？Iconfessit！ButwhatcouldI
do？Itwastoobligealady“——helaidahandonhisheart——“aladywhomIwoulddietoserve！”Hewentonwithincreasingvolubility，hisdeliberateEnglishsweptawaybyatorrentofItalian，throughwhichWyant，withsomedifficulty，struggledtoacomprehensionofthecase。
CountOttaviano，accordingtohisownstatement，hadcometoSienasomemonthspreviously，onbusinessconnectedwithhismother'sproperty；thepaternalestatebeingnearOrvieto，ofwhichancientcityhisfatherwassyndic。SoonafterhisarrivalinSienatheyoungCounthadmettheincomparabledaughterofDoctorLombard，andfallingdeeplyinlovewithher，hadprevailedonhisparentstoaskherhandinmarriage。DoctorLombardhadnotopposedhissuit，butwhenthequestionofsettlementsaroseitbecameknownthatMissLombard，whowaspossessedofasmallpropertyinherownright，hadashorttimebeforeinvestedthewholeamountinthepurchaseoftheBergamoLeonardo。ThereuponCountOttaviano'sparentshadpolitelysuggestedthatsheshouldsellthepictureandthusrecoverherindependence；andthisproposalbeingmetbyacurtrefusalfromDoctorLombard，theyhadwithdrawntheirconsenttotheirson'smarriage。Theyounglady'sattitudehadhithertobeenoneofpassivesubmission；shewashorriblyafraidofherfather，andwouldneverventureopenlytoopposehim；butshehadmadeknowntoOttavianoherintentionofnotgivinghimup，ofwaitingpatientlytilleventsshouldtakeamorefavorableturn。Sheseemedhardlyaware，theCountsaidwithasigh，thatthemeansofescapelayinherownhands；thatshewasofage，andhadarighttosellthepicture，andtomarrywithoutaskingherfather'sconsent。Meanwhilehersuitorsparednopainstokeephimselfbeforeher，toremindherthathe，too，waswaitingandwouldnevergiveherup。
DoctorLombard，whosuspectedtheyoungmanoftryingtopersuadeSybillatosellthepicture，hadforbiddentheloverstomeetortocorrespond；theywerethusdriventoclandestinecommunication，andhadseveraltimes，theCountingenuouslyavowed，madeuseofthedoctor'svisitorsasameansofexchangingletters。
“Andyoutoldthevisitorstoringtwice？”Wyantinterposed。
Theyoungmanextendedhishandsinadeprecatinggesture。CouldMr。Wyantblamehim？Hewasyoung，hewasardent，hewasenamored！Theyoungladyhaddonehimthesupremehonorofavowingherattachment，ofpledgingherunalterablefidelity；
shouldhesufferhisdevotiontobeoutdone？Buthispurposeinwritingtoher，headmitted，wasnotmerelytoreiteratehisfidelity；hewastryingbyeverymeansinhispowertoinducehertosellthepicture。Hehadorganizedaplanofaction；everydetailwascomplete；ifshewouldbuthavethecouragetocarryouthisinstructionshewouldanswerfortheresult。HisideawasthatsheshouldsecretlyretiretoaconventofwhichhisauntwastheMotherSuperior，andfromthatstrongholdshouldtransactthesaleoftheLeonardo。Hehadapurchaserready，whowaswillingtopayalargesum；asum，CountOttavianowhispered，considerablyinexcessoftheyounglady'soriginalinheritance；
oncethepicturesold，itcould，ifnecessary，beremovedbyforcefromDoctorLombard'shouse，andhisdaughter，beingsafelyintheconvent，wouldbesparedthepainfulscenesincidentaltotheremoval。Finally，ifDoctorLombardwerevindictiveenoughtorefusehisconsenttohermarriage，shehadonlytomakeasommationrespectueuse，andattheendoftheprescribeddelaynopoweronearthcouldpreventherbecomingthewifeofCountOttaviano。
Wyant'sangerhadfallenattherecitalofthissimpleromance。
Itwasabsurdtobeangrywithayoungmanwhoconfidedhissecretstothefirststrangerhemetinthestreets，andplacedhishandonhisheartwheneverhementionedthenameofhisbetrothed。Theeasiestwayoutofthebusinesswastotakeitasajoke。WyanthadplayedthewalltothisnewPyramusandThisbe，andwasphilosophicenoughtolaughattheparthehadunwittinglyperformed。
HeheldouthishandwithasmiletoCountOttaviano。
“Iwon'tdepriveyouanylonger，“hesaid，“ofthepleasureofreadingyourletter。“
“Oh，sir，athousandthanks！AndwhenyoureturntothecasaLombard，youwilltakeamessagefromme——thelettersheexpectedthisafternoon？”
“Thelettersheexpected？”Wyantpaused。“No，thankyou。I
thoughtyouunderstoodthatwhereIcomefromwedon'tdothatkindofthing——knowingly。“
“But，sir，toserveayounglady！”
“I'msorryfortheyounglady，ifwhatyoutellmeistrue“——theCount'sexpressivehandsresentedthedoubt——“butrememberthatifIamunderobligationstoanyoneinthismatter，itistoherfather，whohasadmittedmetohishouseandhasallowedmetoseehispicture。“
“HISpicture？Hers！”
“Well，thehouseishis，atallevents。“
“Unhappily——sincetoheritisadungeon！”
“Whydoesn'tsheleaveit，then？”exclaimedWyantimpatiently。
TheCountclaspedhishands。“Ah，howyousaythat——withwhatforce，withwhatvirility！IfyouwouldbutsayittoHERinthattone——you，hercountryman！Shehasnoonetoadviseher；
themotherisanidiot；thefatheristerrible；sheisinhispower；itismybeliefthathewouldkillherifsheresistedhim。Mr。Wyant，Itrembleforherlifewhilesheremainsinthathouse！”
“Oh，come，“saidWyantlightly，“theyseemtounderstandeachotherwellenough。Butinanycase，youmustseethatIcan'tinterfere——atleastyouwouldifyouwereanEnglishman，“headdedwithanescapeofcontempt。
III
Wyant'saffiliationsinSienabeingrestrictedtoanacquaintancewithhisland-lady，hewasforcedtoapplytoherfortheverificationofCountOttaviano'sstory。
Theyoungnoblemanhad，itappeared，givenaperfectlycorrectaccountofhissituation。Hisfather，CountCelsi-Mongirone，wasamanofdistinguishedfamilyandsomewealth。HewassyndicofOrvieto，andlivedeitherinthattownoronhisneighboringestateofMongirone。HiswifeownedalargepropertynearSiena，andCountOttaviano，whowasthesecondson，cametherefromtimetotimetolookintoitsmanagement。Theeldestsonwasinthearmy，theyoungestintheChurch；andanauntofCountOttaviano'swasMotherSuperioroftheVisitandineconventinSiena。AtonetimeithadbeensaidthatCountOttaviano，whowasamostamiableandaccomplishedyoungman，wastomarrythedaughterofthestrangeEnglishman，DoctorLombard，butdifficultieshavingarisenastotheadjustmentoftheyounglady'sdower，CountCelsi-Mongironehadveryproperlybrokenoffthematch。Itwassadfortheyoungman，however，whowassaidtobedeeplyinlove，andtofindfrequentexcusesforcomingtoSienatoinspecthismother'sestate。
ViewedinthelightofCountOttaviano'spersonalitythestoryhadatingeofoperabouffe；butthenextmorning，asWyantmountedthestairsoftheHouseoftheDeadHand，thesituationinsensiblyassumedanotheraspect。ItwasimpossibletotakeDoctorLombardlightly；andtherewasasuggestionoffatalityintheappearanceofhisgauntdwelling。WhocouldtellamidwhattragicrecordsofdomestictyrannyandflutteringbrokenpurposesthelittledramaofMissLombard'sfatewasbeingplayedout？
Mightnottheaccumulatedinfluencesofsuchahousemodifytheliveswithinitinamannerunguessedbytheinmatesofasuburbanvillawithsanitaryplumbingandatelephone？
Oneperson，atleast，remainedunperturbedbysuchfancifulproblems；andthatwasMrs。Lombard，who，atWyant'sentrance，raisedaplacidlywrinkledbrowfromherknitting。Themorningwasmild，andherchairhadbeenwheeledintoabarofsunshinenearthewindow，sothatshemadeacheerfulspotofproseinthepoeticgloomofhersurroundings。
“Whatanicemorning！”shesaid；“itmustbedelightfulweatheratBonchurch。“
Herdullblueglancewanderedacrossthenarrowstreetwithitsthreateninghousefronts，andflutteredbackbaffled，likeabirdwithclippedwings。Itwasevident，poorlady，thatshehadneverseenbeyondtheoppositehouses。
Wyantwasnotsorrytofindheralone。Seeingthatshewassurprisedathisreappearancehesaidatonce：“IhavecomebacktostudyMissLombard'spicture。“
“Oh，thepicture——“Mrs。Lombard'sfaceexpressedagentledisappointment，whichmighthavebeenboredominapersonofacutersensibilities。“It'sanoriginalLeonardo，youknow，“shesaidmechanically。
“AndMissLombardisveryproudofit，Isuppose？Sheseemstohaveinheritedherfather'sloveforart。“
Mrs。Lombardcountedherstitches，andhewenton：“It'sunusualinsoyoungagirl。Suchtastesgenerallydeveloplater。“
Mrs。Lombardlookedupeagerly。“That'swhatIsay！Iwasquitedifferentatherage，youknow。Ilikeddancing，anddoingaprettybitoffancy-work。NotthatIcouldn'tsketch，too；IhadamasterdownfromLondon。Myauntshavesomeofmycrayonshungupintheirdrawing-roomnow——IdidaviewofKenilworthwhichwasthoughtpleasing。ButIlikedapicnic，too，oraprettywalkthroughthewoodswithyoungpeopleofmyownage。Isayit'smorenatural，Mr。Wyant；onemayhaveafeelingforart，anddocrayonsthatareworthframing，andyetnotgiveupeverythingelse。Iwastaughtthattherewereotherthings。“
Wyant，half-ashamedofprovokingtheseinnocentconfidences，couldnotresistanotherquestion。“AndMissLombardcaresfornothingelse？”
Hermotherlookedtroubled。
“Sybillaissoclever——shesaysIdon'tunderstand。Youknowhowself-confidentyoungpeopleare！Myhusbandneversaidthatofme，now——heknowsIhadanexcellenteducation。Myauntswereveryparticular；Iwasbroughtuptohaveopinions，andmyhusbandhasalwaysrespectedthem。Hesayshimselfthathewouldn'tfortheworldmisshearingmyopiniononanysubject；
youmayhavenoticedthatheoftenreferstomytastes。HehasalwaysrespectedmypreferenceforlivinginEngland；helikestohearmegivemyreasonsforit。HeissomuchinterestedinmyideasthatheoftensaysheknowsjustwhatIamgoingtosaybeforeIspeak。ButSybilladoesnotcareforwhatIthink——“
AtthispointDoctorLombardentered。HeglancedsharplyatWyant。“Theservantisafool；shedidn'ttellmeyouwerehere。“Hiseyeturnedtohiswife。“Well，mydear，whathaveyoubeentellingMr。Wyant？AbouttheauntsatBonchurch，I'llbebound！”
Mrs。LombardlookedtriumphantlyatWyant，andherhusbandrubbedhishookedfingers，withasmile。
“Mrs。Lombard'sauntsareverysuperiorwomen。Theysubscribetothecirculatinglibrary，andborrowGoodWordsandtheMonthlyPacketfromthecurate'swifeacrosstheway。Theyhavetherectortoteatwiceayear，andkeepapage-boy，andarevisitedbytwobaronets'wives。Theydevotedthemselvestotheeducationoftheirorphanniece，andIthinkImaysaywithoutboastingthatMrs。Lombard'sconversationshowsmarkedtracesoftheadvantagessheenjoyed。“
Mrs。Lombardcoloredwithpleasure。
“IwastellingMr。Wyantthatmyauntswereveryparticular。“
“Quiteso，mydear；anddidyoumentionthattheyneversleepinanythingbutlinen，andthatMissSophiaputsawaythefursandblanketseveryspringwithherownhands？Boththosefactsareinterestingtothestudentofhumannature。“DoctorLombardglancedathiswatch。“Butwearemissinganincomparablemoment；thelightisperfectatthishour。“
Wyantrose，andthedoctorledhimthroughthetapestrieddooranddownthepassageway。
Thelightwas，infact，perfect，andthepictureshonewithaninnerradiancy，asthoughalampburnedbehindthesoftscreenofthelady'sflesh。Everydetailoftheforegrounddetacheditselfwithjewel-likeprecision。Wyantnoticedadozenaccessorieswhichhadescapedhimonthepreviousday。
Hedrewouthisnote-book，andthedoctor，whohaddroppedhissardonicgrinforalookofdevoutcontemplation，pushedachairforward，andseatedhimselfonacarvedsettleagainstthewall。