himself. This done,
I will give the provocation, showing that you are ready and in waiting;
there can be no delay."

"But he will need a friend?"

"He must take one of his secretaries,----his valet if he prefer it I 'll
give no time for evasive negotiation."

"I cannot be a party to an affair like this, Norwood. Whatever the wrong
you seek to avenge, this is not the mode to do it."

"Say so at once, then," said Norwood, rising. "Tell me that you gave a
rash promise, and are sorry for it Better the refusal now than when it
be too late to retract."

"You mistake me; I have no wish to unsay one single word I ever spoke to
you. I only ask for such an explanation as I have a right to demand."

"You shall know everything; pray spare me telling it twice over. There
is no use in opening one's wound till he comes to the surgeon. Enough
now, that I tell you this man owes me a full and fair reparation for a
great wrong; I am equally determined on exacting it. If this does not
satisfy you, step into the carriage and you shall hear the whole story.
I can tell it, perhaps, when we are rattling along over the stones in
the dark." And so saying, he sat down and leaned his head on the table,
as though he would not be disturbed. The Frenchman went on with
his dressing, rapidly; and at last, pronouncing himself ready, they
descended the stairs together in silence, and entered the carriage.

As they drove on, Norwood never spoke; and his companion, respecting
perhaps the occasion of his silence, did not utter a word. At last they
arrived at the summit of the hill, and looked down upon the city, over
which the gray tints of coming day were breaking. The great Duomo and
the Palazzo Vecchio lay in massive shadow, and it was only at intervals
along the Arno that a flickering gleam of cold light fell. The scene, in
all its calm and stillness, was grand and solemn.

"How unlike the Florence of sun and bright sky, how unlike the brilliant
city of dissipation and pleasure!" said Norwood; "and so it is with
individuals: we are just what light and shadow make us! Now listen to
me." He then related the whole story of his first meeting with Lola,
down to the moment of D'Esmonde's revelation. "I know well," said he,
"there may be a dozen ways to look on the affair besides that which I
have chosen. I might dispute the marriage; I might disavow the whole
proceeding; I might, naturally enough, leave such a woman to her
fate,--she never could be a