ared dishonor, made the sacrifice of my good name, and done as
much, ay, far more than all that, for thee?"

Shouldst thou, poor, seduced, weak one, address thy seducer thus, he
will look upon thee as a fiend-like tempter--he will rush from thy
sight--he will never see thee more; his love will be suddenly converted
into hatred! Yes, man demands that woman should dishonor herself for
_his_ sake; but he will not allow a speck to appear upon what he calls
_his_ good name--no, not to save that poor, confiding, lost creature
from the lowest depths and dregs of penury into which her frailty may
have plunged her!

Such is the selfishness of man! Where is his chivalry?

But let us return to the Arestino Palace.

The moment Manuel d'Orsini entered the apartment by means of the private
door, he embraced Giulia with a fondness which was more than half
affected--at least on that occasion--and she herself returned the kiss
less warmly than usual--but this was because she was constrained and
embarrassed by the presence of the bandit-captain, who was concealed
behind the tapestry.

"You appear cool--distant, Giulia," said Manuel, casting upon her an
inquiring glance.

"And you either love me less, or you have something on your mind,"
returned the countess, in a low tone.

"In the first instance you are wrong--in the second you are right, my
well-beloved," answered the marquis. "But tell me----"

"Speak lower, Manuel--we may be overheard. Some of my dependents are in
the adjacent room, and----"

"And you wish me to depart as soon as possible, no doubt?" said the
marquis, impatiently.

"Oh! Manuel--how can you reproach me thus?" asked Giulia, in a voice
scarcely above a whisper; for that woman who dared be unfaithful to her
husband revolted from the thought that a coarse-minded bandit should be
in a position to overhear her conversation with her lover:--"how can you
reproach me thus, Manuel?" she repeated;--"have I not given thee all the
proofs of tenderest love which woman can bestow? Have I not risked
everything for thee?"

"I do not reproach you, Giulia," he replied, pressing his hand to his
brow, "but I am unhappy--miserable!"

And he flung himself upon the nearest ottoman.

"Oh! what has occurred to distract thee thus?" exclaimed the countess,
forgetting the presence of Stephano Verrina in the all-absorbing
interest of her lover's evident grief.

"Am I ever to find thee oppressed with care--thee, who art so young-