me in
the seventh century in the Reflections of Bernardin Pastouret, and
perhaps at an earlier time by others. The author whose words are here
quoted, is Mr. John Sharpe, and he has very clearly presented the case.

THE COUNT MONTE-LEONE: OR, THE SPY IN SOCIETY.[N]

Translated For The International Monthly Magazine From the French of H.
De St. Georges.

_Continued from page 359._

BOOK IV.

I. EXPLANATION OF THE ENIGMA.

While the events we have described are taking place at Sorrento, we will
retrace our steps to the Etruscan House, where we left Monte-Leone and
Taddeo when the latter placed in the hands of the former the letter of
La Felina. The Count opened the letter, and read:

"Taddeo--You told me in the prison of the palace of the Dukes of Palma,
whither I went to find you, '_Love which speculates is not love. Mine
will obey you for obedience' sake. Try, however, to ask something grand
and difficult, that you may judge it by its fruits._'"

"Then you love her?" said Monte-Leone, interrupting himself.

"Read on," said Taddeo.

"'Your heart, Taddeo, is noble,' replied I. 'I have faith in it. May God
grant that your strength do not betray your courage. In four days you
will learn what I expect from you.' I write down what I expect, for I
have not courage to tell you. I cannot crush your hopes, though I know
that they cannot be realized. The feelings you have avowed to me,
Taddeo, demand entire confidence: for it would be a crime to deceive a
heart like yours. I will therefore tell you the truth, painful as it may
be. It is a year since I came to Naples, having been attracted thither
by a brilliant engagement at San Carlo. My success was as great as it
had been in the other capitals of Italy. After the applause and ovations
of the public--the truest and most discriminating of all--came
privileged admirers; those, who, from their rank, birth, and fortune,
have a right to pass the curtain of the sanctuary, and cast incense at
the very foot of the idol; who can compliment the artiste on the stage,
and follow her with their commonplaces to her very box. There was no
scarcity of sacrificers. The noblest of Naples overwhelmed me with
adulations; from compliments they came to declaration, and there, as at
Rome, Venice, and elsewhere, I was persecuted by the insipid gallantries
of suitors, to which every successful artiste possessed of any personal
attraction must submit. To all these advances my heart r