her parents, she lowered her large
eyelids as if to veil the fire of her eyes.

"Is he a prince?" asked her father, ironically, in a tone of voice which
made the mother quail.

"No, father," she said, gently, "he is a young man without fortune."

"Is he very handsome?"

"He is very unfortunate."

"What is he?"

"Labedoyere's comrade; he was proscribed, without a refuge; Servin
concealed him, and--"

"Servin is a good fellow, who has done well," cried Piombo; "but you, my
daughter, you do wrong to love any man, except your father."

"It does not depend on me to love, or not to love," replied Ginevra,
still gently.

"I flattered myself," continued her father, "that my Ginevra would be
faithful to me until I died; and that my love and that of her mother
would suffice her till then; I did not expect that our tenderness would
find a rival in her soul, and--"

"Did I ever reproach you for your fanaticism for Napoleon?" said
Ginevra. "Have you never loved any one but me? Did you not leave me
for months together when you went on missions. I bore your absence
courageously. Life has necessities to which we must all submit."

"Ginevra!"

"No, you don't love me for myself; your reproaches betray your
intolerable egotism."

"You dare to blame your father's love!" exclaimed Piombo, his eyes
flashing.

"Father, I don't blame you," replied Ginevra, with more gentleness than
her trembling mother expected. "You have grounds for your egotism, as I
have for my love. Heaven is my witness that no girl has ever fulfilled
her duty to her parents better than I have done to you. I have never
felt anything but love and happiness where others often see obligation.
It is now fifteen years that I have never left your protecting wing,
and it has been a most dear pleasure to me to charm your life. But am I
ungrateful for all this in giving myself up to the joy of loving; is it
ingratitude to desire a husband who will protect me hereafter?"

"What! do you reckon benefits with your father, Ginevra?" said Piombo,
in a dangerous tone.

A dreadful pause then followed, during which no one dared to speak.
Bartolomeo at last broke the silence by crying out in a heart-rending
tone:--

"Oh! stay with us! stay with your father, your old father! I cannot
have you love another man. Ginevra, you will not have long to await your
liberty."

"But, father, remember that I need not leave you; we shall be two to
love you; you will learn to know