They returned slowly home; but fear still was in the heart of Viola, though she strove to shake it off.

Italian and Catholic she was, with all the superstitions of land and sect.

She stole to her chamber and prayed before a little relic of San Gennaro, which the priest of her house had given to her in childhood, and which had accompanied her in all her wanderings.

She had never deemed it possible to part with it before.

Now, if there was a charm against the pestilence, did she fear the pestilence for herself?
The next morning, when he awoke, Zanoni found the relic of the saint suspended with his mystic amulet round his neck.
"Ah! thou wilt have nothing to fear from the pestilence now," said Viola, between tears and smiles; "and when thou wouldst talk to me again as thou didst last night, the saint shall rebuke thee." Well, Zanoni, can there ever indeed be commune of thought and spirit, except with equals?
Yes, the plague broke out,--the island home must be abandoned.