I said,
for the realization of this heavenly revelation, the heart's blood would
not be too dear a price. Do you not think so, Marquis?"

"I do, Count," said Maulear, "and especially so, because what your rich
imagination has created for you, chance, or my good genius--for I too
have faith in them--has displayed before me, not in the delirium of a
dream, but in reality. I have seen the myrtle groves of which you
dreamed: I have breathed the perfumes you describe so well: I have found
the woman your imagination has shadowed to me. I found her one day when
I did not expect to do so. I found one more beautiful than I had fancied
woman could be, gifted with such charms, grace, and virtue, that I ask
myself frequently whether such a being can belong to earth."

"Marquis," said Monte-Leone, and as he spoke he led the Count towards a
darker alley, lighted up only by a few rays of the moon, which
penetrated the interstices of the branches, "would it not be best to
conclude this conversation rather in the dark than in the light? Our
words need not any light, and neither you nor I pay any attention to the
expression of our faces."

"So be it," said Maulear, and they entered the dark alley.

"Marquis," said Monte-Leone, "the divinity of my dream and the object of
your passion are so alike, that I am sure we worship the same idol, and
kneel before the same altar. Fortune has led two men of soul and honor
into the same route. We both struggle for an object which one only can
reach. One of us must tread on a carcass, which must be either yours or
mine."

"Count," said Maulear, "we understand each other. We adore the same
idol, but you are not ignorant that our rights to offer it homage are
different; that I have rights which you have not."

The Count trembled. A word might crush all his hopes. For a few moments
he hesitated, and then in a calm voice said,

"Does she love you?"

Without replying to the question, the Marquis said,

"Signora Rovero, for her name is too deeply engraven on our hearts for
it not to spring to our lips, is aware of my sentiments, of which I have
already told her."

"And has accepted them?" said Monte-Leone, in yet greater trouble.

"No," said the Marquis, honorably; "but bade me hope that some day she
would."

"Then," said the Count, with joy, "nothing is lost. Marquis, the past is
yours, but the future is mine. Had I the mind and grace of a French
nobleman, I would, perhaps, propose to you a