He came out on the plateau before the front door. The door was shut,
but as he went to open it it was opened from within, and Gaspare stood
before him in the twilight, with the dark passage for background.
Gaspare looked at Artois in silence.
"Gaspare," Artois said, "I came home from San Martino. I found a note
from the Signorina, begging me to come here at once."
"Lo so, Signore."
"I have come. What has--what is it? Where is the Signorina?"
Gaspare stood in the middle of the narrow doorway.
"The Signorina is in the garden."
"Waiting for me?"
"Si, Signore."
"Very well."
He moved to enter the house; but Gaspare stood still where he was.
"Signore," he said.
Artois stopped at the door-sill.
"What is it?"
"What are you going to do here?"
At last Gaspare was frankly the watch-dog guarding the sacred house.
His Padrona had cast upon him a look of hatred. Yet he was guarding
the sacred house and her within it. Deep in the blood of him was the
sense that, even hating him, she belonged to him and he to her.
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