Taquisara

m, and sipped a teaspoonful of it absently. The corner where the two men sat together was quiet, but from the front of the café came the continual

id Bosio at last, "and if

at his companion without

fession? There are ch

am ready. Wi

hesi

could tell you nothing w

u have on your conscience?" The p

mes that must come, and that I cannot p

silence during

ess you are impelled to do so. But you are in that frame of mind, my dear Bosio, in which a man will sooner or later unburden himself to some one. You might do worse than choose me. I am your fr

have heard strange things someti

oro's face grew sad and thoughtful, and Bo

w nearer to his friend, so that he spoke close to the latter's ear, though he looked down at

ce would hardly have guessed that an act in a mysterious life was before their eyes-an act which was itself but a verbal recapitulation

to one in whom he had confided as a boy and had trusted as a young man. He told almost all. He confessed that his love of many years had been his brother's wife, and though he spoke no word of her love for him, the old priest knew the evil truth from the man's tone a

han once while he listened, but he neve

d, and the fear of that disgrace is making her mad. It is for her, and for Veronica! What do I care about myself? What have I left to care for? What I have done, I have done. I am not good, I am not religious, I am perhaps a worse sinner than most men, and a poorer believer than many. But I will not be the instrument of these deeds-and yet, if I refuse-there is death, or shame, or both, to those I love! At least I have

w his white face and dark-ringed eyes into strong and painful relief. Don Teodoro was silent, b

aches I deserve, and I know that no human being, much less a holy man

e, for I lived long among you, and I know that one cannot change one's soul, as one changes one's coat-nor enter upon a retreat as one springs into the sea for a bath in hot weather. What you have made yourself, you are. Heaven itself would need time to unmake you. I speak just as one man to another. Come with me to the mountains for a week, a month-as long as you will. It is dreary and cold, and

en her eyes, you would find it hard to laugh, I think. Such

ught that Bosio, in his excited state

that you may marry her. If you come with me, you will at least have time to think be

shook his

weeks my brother will be ruined-absolutely ruined-if he cannot pay. If I stayed that time with you, I should come back to fin

do, if you have courage to do it. And you know better than I what chance there would be of su

nxiously to his frien

since it is time, and manage that Cardinal Campodonico shall never suspect that there has been anything wrong with the administration. If she is not so charitable as to do that of her own free will, why then, since you believe it, tell her that she must do

l hardly feel the loss out of her immense fortune. Yes-" his face brightened slowly with the rays of hope. "Yes-it may be possible, after all. I had thought of going to her, but no

off in the sentence, and his melanch

rhaps you will go back with me to

Muro with you. I wonder," he continued, after a short pause, "that

h to show you which might interest you. I have worked perpetually fo

and studies. Men who, intellectually, are deeply engrossed in one matter, and who, socially, have long lived very lonely lives, are not generally able to lose themselves in sympathy for others. As Bosio was not exactly an object for Don Teodoro's charity

no man has any right to assume that he is worst of men. And as far as that goes, many men have done worse things, even in the religious view, than you have done, and very much worse things, in the opinion of society. You are not responsible for all that the others have done. You are only responsible in the immediate future for your share of duty, in doing the wisest and best thing which may present itself. And if you can induce Donna Veronica to forgive your brother and your brother's wif

e. Its fantastic outline had a moral effect upon him; for it recalled, as nothing else could, the early days of his life before he had been what he now was, when he had known what hope mea

think I shall take your advice and speak to

oro. "She can save y

ith his friend Don Matteo, a man as learned as himself, but indolent instead of active, one of those passive, living treasuries of thought upon which the active worker fastens gre

be expected to say to him. But he was terribly exhausted and harassed, and by degrees as the stimulant of recent comfort lost its cheering warmth within him, he silently grew despondent again within h

Teodoro, he roused himself, and the two went out toget

ll think of it all. At this time I

But the latter, as he walked, his silver-rimmed spectacles balanced on his great nose, thrust his bent head more forward. Or rather

et, sunlit street, behind the Piazza-in one of those oases of light and cleanliness upon which one sometimes comes in the heart of Naples. The little green door was re

he said. "You have been

you can always send for

morning. But I will c

w, befor

By to-morrow at midday s

to insert the key in the lock of the door, while his eyes followed his friend to the corner of the street. T

d upon to face a physical danger; for though he was certainly no hero, he was by no means a physical coward, and in a quarrel he would have stood up bravely enough to face his antagonist. But this was very different. He had been ruled by Matilde Macomer through many years, and when he thought of meeting her he had a deadly

sage. Gregorio had gone out immediately after the midday breakfast. Bosio was glad of that. He had not seen his brother since the previous evening, and he did not wish to see him alone. There were monstrous wrongs on both sides,

thought, Gregorio had hung up the escutcheon with the quartered arms of Macomer and Serra, flanked by half a dozen big old family portraits on either side, opposite the three windows. He had waited there until the footman returned after looking for Veronica in the drawin

under the pictures opened suddenly, and Matilde spoke into the room, calling him by name. He turned pale and stopped

briefly, "I want

two high windows, filling every corner with light and turning the crimson carpet blood red, where Matilde stood, all round her feet and the folds of her loose dark gown, so th

g?" she asked in a hard tone. "And why did Taquis

t send for him," sa

Matilde. "He is no friend of yours. He m

le covered with books. In an objectless way he opened a volume

ra have to say? He is Gianluca's friend-he came with a mess

g at the title page of the book. "Gianluca did not send him. He

u answer? Of course you told h

sation-I do not remem

whether you told him

atilde laughed angr

said imperiously. "Look at

r. Bosio felt that shock of shame which smites a man in the back, as it wer

nswered, and his pale cheeks

face darkened. "What?

lad to have fright

erence. "Just that. I let him understand that nothing i

med to draw nearer together, while t

deep disgust, and as she spoke she dropped his arm in co

I told you that I could not do it. The man put it in such a way that I had to giv

ean nothing. For some wretched quibble of your miserable conscience-as y

be bold under her scornful eyes. "I would not let Taquisara th

, then? You choose

me," said Bosio. "That was what you wished to know.

r and walked away

ving, for she knew that

?" he asked, turning ag

uch to be said. The matter is all but settled in spite of the account which Taquisara fri

is hands on the back of a chair as he stood. "You know very well that I am no more a coward, if it comes to fight

e always an idealist, Bosio-you do not care for those things, and I daresay that when you are married you will not even care to take her titles, nor to spend much of her money. I know well enough what passes in your mind. Sit down. Let us talk about it. We cannot

rn him out, nor get into a quarrel with him. It would have

u did. I am sure of that. I do not know why I was so angry at you. I am unstrung, and ner

s," replied Bosio, thinking to show

ive me. I did not mean to say such things-indeed, I did not.

now that you are under a terrible strain-but you say things sometimes which are unju

Bosio sat down beside her, already sin

have thought it all over, as one thinks of everything when everything is in

dvice gained instant plausibility again. "She is kind, sh

u may think so because she is so unlike me in looks. She has the type of her father, poor Tommaso. But we Serra are all Serra-there is not much difference. No-do not interrupt me, dear. And as for your marriage, there is much to be said for it. It is time that you were married, you know. You and I have lived

ed an unbearable thraldom, to escape from which he would have given his heart piecemeal, though he should lose all the happiness life held for him, for the sake of a momentary freedom. Possibly, too, she knew that he never longed for

urd. It is I who have grown old of late. But

again with Veronica. You and she will go away together-you can live in Rome, when you are tired of Paris. It will be better. You and

e one word again, with a

ore rapidly. "You have no idea how very fond she is of you. When I spoke of the marriage, she

he

tions. You have no idea how young girls feel about marriage, Bosio. How should you? You cannot comprehend the horror a girl like Veronica feels of a stranger, of a man like Gianluca, even, whom she has met half a dozen times and talked with. It seems so dreadful to think of spending a lifetime with a man about whom she knows nothing, or next to nothing. And yet it is the custom, an

lieve that,"

d to be so absurdly modest! Any woman would be glad to marry you.

I meant. I cannot believe that Veronica is really inclined

to-day, you feel a hundred years old. It is no compliment to me to say so, for I am even a little older than

ince you were saying that

t. You are young! How many men marry at fifty! And you are not forty yet. You have ten years of youth before you. That is not the question. So far as that is concerned, say th

?" he ask

able to say to yourself that in marrying Veronica you are not doing anything in the least dishonourable. I shall not exist for you. I shall not feel that I have the right to think of you and for you as I always have. I shall never ask you to do anything for me, lest you should feel that I were asserting some claim to you, as th

o-if you leave her and go after some o

ondering how in a few sentences she had got herself into a positio

t be now, quickly! You shall not have it on your mind that you belong to me in any way, from now. No-you are right-you must feel free. You must feel free, besides really being free. You must feel, when you

ously, at the idea, and turning away

d it, pressing it b

, Matilde?" he as

swered, speaking away fr

elf from something worse than death. It was the hardest thing she had ever done. He hesitated: there was the mean prompting of the spirit, to take her at her word and to set himself free,

e. I would not keep you longer, if I could. Oh-we shall

as she had not meant

he said. "You love me st

sio, look at my hair. You used to love it. Would you have it cut off and cropped by the convict's shears? My hands that you are holding-dear-would

ss of her brown hair and heard her words, he felt a desperate thru

ot love me," he pleaded, in l

ught he saw a convulsive movement of her

ale face fiercely. "If I loved you still, do you think I would give you to Veronica S

o! Bu

not let

ow me so little? Do you think that I have no pride?" asked Matilde Macomer, holding him at arm's length from her wi

ps with force and earnest conviction, whether she truly believed that th

hing more. We have said good bye to all the rest-now go, for I

ill," he

that she should speak again. But she only shook her head, and her hand gave his n