"A new thought came to me then. I handed down my money to Gioconda,
keeping back only a little, and prayed her to go to the woman, her
mistress, and bargain with her to carry you out of the city,
concealed beneath the furniture. The girl clapped her hands at the
notion, and ran, but in an hour's time came creeping back in tears.
The woman would have more money--even threatened to betray us unless
I found her five hundred livres in all. . . .
"I borrowed Gioconda's shawl and sent her away, charging her to
return before evening. Then I loosened another stone from the
crown--a sardonyx--and again I went out through the streets to the
jeweller's. It was worse now than by night, for the people stared,
and certain men followed me. I took them for spies at first; but
presently my stupid brain cleared, and I guessed for what they
mistook me; and then I kept them at their distance, using such tricks
as in Brussels I had seen the women use. . . ."
"O brave one! O beloved!"
I stretched out my hand, but she turned from the caress, and hurried
on with her tale, her eyes still fastened on the distant plain, her
voice held level on the tone of a child reciting its task.
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