Chapter VI: "You must go!" said Titian sternly

The young man looked at him dully, almost appealingly. He shook his head. "I have work to do."

Titian lifted an impatient hand. "The people will not permit it--I tell you!" He spoke harshly. "Giorgione is their idol. It has been hard to keep them--this one week! Only my promise that you go at once holds them."

The young man smiled, a little cynically. "Do you think I fear death--I crave it!" His arms fell at his sides.

His companion looked at him intently. "What is your plan?" he asked shortly.

"Giorgione--" The voice was tense. "He shall pay--to the uttermost!"

"For that?" Titian made a motion toward the gloved hand.

The young man raised it with a scornful gesture.

"For that"--he spoke sternly--"I would not touch the dog. It is for her!" His voice dropped.

Titian waited a moment. "What would you do?" he asked in a low voice.

The young man stirred. "I care not. He must suffer--as she suffered," he added with slow significance.

"Would that content you? Would you go away--and not return?"

"I would go--yes."

Titian waited, his eyes on the gloved hand. "You can go," he said at last, "the Lord has avenged her."

The young man leaned forward. His breath came sharply. "What do you mean?"

"That she is avenged," said Titian slowly. "Giorgione cannot live the year. Go away. Leave him to die in peace."

"I did not ask for peace," said the young man grimly.

Titian turned on him fiercely. "His heart breaks. He dies drop by drop!"

The young man smiled.

Titian watched him closely. "You need not fear his not suffering," he said significantly. "Go watch through his window, or by a crack in the door."--He waited a breath. "The man is mad!"

The young man started sharply.

"Mad!" repeated Titian.

Zarato turned on him a look of horror and exultation. "Mad!" he repeated softly. The gloved hand trembled.

A look of relief stole into Titian's face. "Does that satisfy you?" he asked quietly. "Will you go?"

"Yes, I will go." The young man rose. He moved toward the door. "Mad!" he whispered softly.

"Wait," said Titian. He sprang before him. "Not by daylight--you would be murdered in the open street! You must wait till night.... I shall row you, myself, out from the city. It is arranged. A boat waits for you."

The young man looked at him gratefully. "You take this risk for me?" he said humbly.

"For you and Giorgione and for--her."

They sat silent.

"He will never paint again," said the young man, looking up quickly with the thought.

Titian shook his head. "Never again," he said slowly.

The young man looked at him. "There are a dozen pictures begun," he said, "a dozen and more."

"Yes."

"Who will finish them?"

"Who can tell?" The painter's face had clouded.

"Shall you?"

Titian returned the suspicious gaze frankly. "It is not likely," he said. "He will not speak to me or see me. He says I am false to him--I harbor you."

The young man's gaze fell. "I will go," he said humbly. He shivered a little.

"And not return till I send for you."

"I will not return--till you send for me!"