ore the
country, as a spy; but I was to persevere, and cancel my iniquities by
betraying those whom I served to you. That was your instructive precept.
Have I done it or not? Answer, too have I done it for any payment beyond
your approbation? I persuaded you to hope for Lombardy, and without any
vaunting of my own patriotism. You have seen and spoken to the men I
directed you to visit. If their heads master yours, I shall be reprobated
for it, I know surely; but I am confident as yet that you can match them.
In another month I expect to see the king over the Ticino once more, and
Carlo in Brescia with his comrades. You try to penetrate my eyes. That's
foolish; I can make them glass. Read me by what I say and what I do. I do
not entreat you to trust me; I merely beg that you will trust your own
judgement of me by what I have helped you to do hitherto. You and I, my
dear boy, have had some trifling together. Admit that another woman would
have refused to surrender you as I did when your unruly Vittoria was at
last induced to come to you from Milan. Or, another woman would have had
her revenge on discovering that she had been a puppet of soft eyes and a
lover's quarrel with his mistress. Instead of which, I let you go. I am
opposed to the marriage, it's true; and you know why."

Carlo had listened to Violetta, measuring the false and the true in this
recapitulation of her conduct with cool accuracy until she alluded to
their personal relations. Thereat his brows darkened.

"We had I some trifling together," he said, musingly.

"Is it going to be denied in these sweeter days?" Violetta reddened.

"The phrase is elastic. Suppose my bride were to hear it?"

"It was addressed to your ears, Carlo."

"It cuts two ways. Will you tell me when it was that I last had the
happiness of saluting you, lip to lip?"

"In Brescia--before I had espoused an imbecile--two nights before my
marriage--near the fountain of the Greek girl with a pitcher."

Pride and anger nerved the reply. It was uttered in a rapid low breath.
Coming altogether unexpectedly, it created an intense momentary revulsion
of his feelings by conjuring up his boyish love in a scene more living
than the sunlight.

He lifted her hand to his mouth. He was Italian enough, though a lover,
to feel that she deserved more. She had reddened deliciously, and
therewith hung a dewy rosy moisture on her underlids. Raising her eyes,
she looked like a cut orange to a thirsty li