Again Adamo nods. He is utterly bewildered. He will obey her, of course, but what can she mean?
"Is your gun loaded?" she asks, anxiously.
"Yes, padrona."
"That is well." A vindictive smile lights up her features. "No one must leave the house to-night. You understand? The dogs will be loose—the guns loaded.—Where is Pipa? Say nothing to Pipa. Do you understand? Don't tell Pipa—"
"Understand? No, diavalo! I don't understand," bursts out Adamo. "If you want any one shot, tell me who it is, padrona, and I will do it."
"That would be murder, Adamo." The marchesa is standing very near him. Adamo sees the savage gleam that comes into her eyes. "If any one leaves the house to-night except Fra Pacifico, stop him, Adamo, stop him. You, or the dogs, or the gun—no matter. Stop him, I command you. I have my reasons. If a life is lost I cannot help it—nor can you, Adamo, eh?"
She smiles grimly. Adamo smiles too, a stolid smile, and nods. He is greatly relieved. The padrona is not mad, nor will she die.
"You may sleep in peace, padrona." With the utmost respect Adamo raises her hand to his lips and kisses it. "Next time ask Adamo to do something more, and he will do it. Trust me, no one shall leave the house to-night alive."
The marchesa listens to Adamo breathlessly. "Go—go," she says; "we must not be seen together."
"The signora shall be obeyed," answers Adamo. He vanishes behind the trees.