How long she lay, she knew not.

A knock at the door did not reach her ears, nor another and another, at short intervals; and then some one entered.

It was the butler, who had come to announce the mid-day breakfast.

He uttered an exclamation and started back, holding the handle of the door in his hand.
Corona raised herself slowly to her knees, gazing down once more upon the dead man's face.

Then she lifted her streaming eyes and saw the servant.
"Your master is dead," she said, solemnly.
The man grew pale and trembled, hesitated, and then turned and fled down the hall without, after the manner of Italian servants, who fear death, and even the sight of it, as they fear nothing else in the world.
Corona rose to her feet and brushed the tears from her eyes.