--trust a woman for intrigue!--she was
quick to perceive my reasons for so doing. Directly Ferrari's back was
turned she would look at me with a glance of coquettish intelligence,
and smile--a little mocking, half-petulant smile--or she would utter
some disparaging remark about him, combining with it a covert
compliment to me. It was not for me to betray her secrets--I saw no
occasion to tell Ferrari that nearly every morning she sent her maid to
my hotel with fruit and flowers and inquiries after my health--nor was
my valet Vincenzo the man to say that he carried gifts and similar
messages from me to her. But at the commencement of November things
were so far advanced that I was in the unusual position of being
secretly courted by my own wife!--I reciprocating her attentions with
equal secrecy! The fact of my being often in the company of other
ladies piqued her vanity--she knew that I was considered a desirable
parti--and--she resolved to win me. In this case I also resolved--to be
won! A grim courtship truly--between a dead man and his own widow!
Ferrari never suspected what was going on; he had spoken of me as "that
poor fool Fabio, he was too easily duped;" yet never was there one more
"easily duped" than himself, or to whom the epithet "poor fool" more
thoroughly applied. As I said before, he was SURE--too sure of his own
good fortune. I wished to excite his distrust and enmity sometimes, but
this I found I could not do. He trusted me--yes! as much as in the old
days I had trusted HIM. Therefore, the catastrophe for him must be
sudden as well as fatal--perhaps, after all, it was better so.

During my frequent visits to the villa I saw much of my child Stella.
She became passionately attached to me--poor little thing!--her love
was a mere natural instinct, had she but known it. Often, too, her
nurse, Assunta, would bring her to my hotel to pass an hour or so with
me. This was a great treat to her, and her delight reached its climax
when I took her on my knee and told her a fairy story--her favorite one
being that of a good little girl whose papa suddenly went away, and how
the little girl grieved for him till at last some kind fairies helped
her to find him again. I was at first somewhat afraid of old
Assunta--she had been MY nurse--was it possible that she would not
recognize me? The first time I met her in my new character I almost
held my breath in a sort of suspense--but the good old woman was nearly
blind, and