bar
his egress. Pale and agitated, the old man restrained the Count, and in
a stern, quarrelsome voice said:

"What is the matter now? what new folly are you about to commit?"

"What the devil do you mean?" asked the Count, taking hold of the
intendant's hand.

"No, Monsignore, you shall not go," said Giacomo, extending his arms so
as completely to shut the door, "unless you serve me as you did Stenio
Salvatori. Is it not a shame that the noblest of the gentlemen of
Naples, that the son of my master, should walk abroad armed like the
bravo of Venice--with a sword, poniard and pistol in his bosom? What, if
you please, was that box of pistols, placed by little Jack, your groom,
as those animals are called in England, in your carriage?"

"What is it to you?" said the Count, impatiently.

"What is it to me?" asked the old man with tears in his eyes. "Are you
not again about to risk your life against I know not whom nor why? What
is it to me? That you may live, that my last days may not be passed in
uneasiness and despair, like those which have gone by--for I love you.
Count," said the old man, kneeling before his master, "I love you as a
father loves his son. I held you in my arms when you were a child. For
heaven's sake renounce your dangerous plans, renounce the acquaintance
of those rascally mysterious looking men who come so often to see you.
Have nothing to say to that rascally Signor Pignana, whom I would so
gladly see hung. Be again happy, gay, and joyous, as you used to he.
True, we were ruining ourselves, but we were not conspirators."

The Count gave his hand to Giacomo.

"Giacomo, my good fellow," said he, "I am about to engage in no
conspiracy."

"What then?"

"I am about to marry," said Monte-Leone, with a smile.

"Marry! with a case of pistols as a wedding present?"

"Why!" said the Count, moodily, "I may perhaps meet enemies on the road.
Now I have more than life to protect: I have my honor."

Monte-Leone, making an affectionate gesture to the old man, descended
gayly and sprang into the coach, which bore him rapidly towards
Sorrento, and stopped at the door of Signora Rovero's house, as we have
previously said.

When she saw Monte-Leone, instead of Taddeo, Signora Rovero trembled.

"Signor," said she to the Count, "for heaven's sake tell me what evil
tidings you bear. What misfortune has befallen Taddeo?"

"In two days, Signora, Taddeo will be here, and I have the difficult
duty to excuse