corridors
of the old castle. All at once Pazza was frightened to find herself in
a gloomy dungeon, with grated windows and huge bars and locks.

"What is this?" asked she. "It looks like a prison."

"Yes," said the prince, with a terrible look, "it is a prison which
you will quit only for the grave."

"My dear, you frighten me," said Pazza, smiling. "Am I a criminal
without knowing it? Have I deserved your displeasure, that you
threaten me with a dungeon?"

"You have a short memory," replied Charming. "An insult is written on
sand to the giver; it is inscribed on marble and bronze to the
receiver."

"Charming," returned the poor child, beginning to be afraid, "you are
repeating something from those speeches that tired me so much. Can you
find nothing better to say to me to-day?"

"Wretch!" cried the king, "you no longer remember the box on the ear
that you gave me seven years ago, but I have not forgotten it. Know
that if I wished you for my wife, it has been only to have your life
in my hands and to make you slowly expiate your crime of high
treason."

"My dear," said Pazza, with a pettish manner, "you may put on your
Bluebeard airs, but you will not frighten me, I assure you. I know
you, Charming, and I warn you that if you do not put an end to this
bad jest, I will not only give you one box on the ear, but three,
before I forgive you. Make haste and let me go out, or I vow that I
will keep my word."

"Vow it then, madame," cried the prince, furious at not intimidating
his victim. "I accept your vow. I vow, too, on my side, that I will
never acknowledge you as my wife till I have been base enough to
receive three times an insult which nothing but blood can wash out.
He laughs well that laughs last. Here, Rachimburg!"

At this terrible name, a jailer with a bushy beard and threatening
mien entered the room, pushed the queen on a wretched truckle-bed, and
shut and double-locked the iron door.

If Pazza wept, it was so quietly that no one heard her. Tired of the
silence, Charming departed, with rage in his heart, resolving that his
rigor should break the pride that braved him. Vengeance, it is said,
is the delight of kings.

Two hours later the countess received a note by a sure hand
acquainting her with the sad fate of her niece. How this note reached
her is known to me, but I will not betray the secret. If a charitable
jailer is found by chance, he should be treated with consideration;
the species is r