But
I had not courage enough, or rather I voluntarily obeyed the decrees of
destiny.

When she heard my order to go away, she threw herself on her knees, and
melting into tears, she begged, she entreated my pity!

Where is the heart of steel which is not softened by the tears, by the
prayers of a pretty and unfortunate woman? I gave way, but I told her
that it was ruin for both of us.

"No one," she replied, "has seen me, I am certain, when I entered the
mansion and came up to your room, and I consider my visit here a week ago
as most fortunate; otherwise, I never could have known which was your
room."

"Alas! how much better if you had never come! But what has become of your
lover?"

"The 'sbirri' have carried him off, as well as the servant. I will tell
you all about it. My lover had informed me that a carriage would wait
to-night at the foot of the flight of steps before the Church of Trinita
del Monte, and that he would be there himself. I entered his room through
the garret window an hour ago. There I put on this disguise, and,
accompanied by the servant, proceeded to meet him. The servant walked a
few yards before me, and carried a parcel of my things. At the corner of
the street, one of the buckles of my shoes being unfastened, I stopped an
instant, and the servant went on, thinking that I was following her. She
reached the carriage, got into it, and, as I was getting nearer, the
light from a lantern disclosed to me some thirty sbirri; at the same
instant, one of them got on the driver's box and drove off at full speed,
carrying off the servant, whom they must have mistaken for me, and my
lover who was in the coach awaiting me. What could I do at such a fearful
moment? I could not go back to my father's house, and I followed my first
impulse which brought me here. And here I am! You tell me that my
presence will cause your ruin; if it is so, tell me what to do; I feel I
am dying; but find some expedient and I am ready to do anything, even to
lay my life down, rather than be the cause of your ruin."

But she wept more bitterly than ever.

Her position was so sad that I thought it worse even than mine, although
I could almost fancy I saw ruin before me despite my innocence.

"Let me," I said, "conduct you to your father; I feel sure of obtaining
your pardon."

But my proposal only enhanced her fears.

"I am lost," she exclaimed; "I know my father. Ah! reverend sir, turn me
out into the street, and aban