rets, their despairs, their lightning flashes of hope, she does not
reveal to those who cause them. Every man is weak, but the weakness of the
strong man is hidden. He entered the saloon. There stood Sulpizia with her
parents.

"Death and victory were in her eyes. They were fearfully hollow; and the
strongly-carved features, from which the flesh had fallen during the long
struggles of the soul, were pure and pale as marble. It seemed as if she
must fall from weakness, but not a muscle moved.

"Nothing was said. Camillo stood before the woman who had always ruled his
soul, to whom it was still loyal. The parents stood appalled behind their
daughter. It was a wintry noon in Venice--cold and still.

"'Camillo,' said Sulpizia at length, in a tone not to be described, but
seemingly destitute of emotion--as the ocean might seem when a gale calmed
it--'he has left me.'

"Child, I have not fathomed the human heart; but after a long, long
silence my brother answered only, I know not from what feeling of duty and
of sacrifice:

"'Sulpizia, will you marry me?'

* * * * *

"Cardinal Balbo arranged the matter at Rome, and after a short time they
were married. I was the only one present with the parents of Sulpizia, who
were glad enough so to cover what they called their daughter's shame. My
mother would not come, but left Venice that very day and died abroad. The
circumstances of the marriage were not comprehended; but the old friends
of the family came occasionally to make solemn, stately visits, which my
brother scrupulously returned.

"You may believe that we enjoyed a kind of mournful peace after the dark
days of the last few years. I loved Sulpizia, but her cheerfulness without
smiling was the awful serenity of wintry sunlight. She faded day by day.
It was clear to us that the end was not far away.

"Two years after the marriage, Sulpizia was lying upon a couch in the room
behind us, where you have seen the veiled portrait which hung in my
brother's chamber. All the long windows and doors were open and we sat by
her side, talking gently in whispers. I knew that death was at hand, but
I rejoiced to think that much as he had suffered, there was one bitter
drop that had been spared him.

"Sulpizia's voice was scarcely audible, and the deadly pallor deepened
every moment upon her face. Camillo bent over her without speaking, and
bowed his head. I stood apart. In a little while she seemed to