waves
beating against their side. As the lawyer proceeded, a deep flush
gradually overspread his face--when he saw the lawyer's outstretched
arms, he retreated to the utmost limits of the room. Guglielmi's arms
fell to his side.

"Whatever may be my opinion of you, Signore Avvocato," spoke the count
at length, contemplating Guglielmi fixedly, and speaking slowly, as
if exercising a strong control over himself--"whether I accept your
friendship, or whether I believe any one word you say, is immaterial.
It cannot affect in any way what is past. The declaration I made
before the altar is the declaration to which I adhere--I am not bound
to state my reasons. To me they are overwhelming. I must therefore
decline all discussion with you. It is for you to make such
arrangements with your client as will insure me a separation. That
done, our paths lie far apart."

Who would have recognized the gracious, facile Count Nobili in these
hard words? The haughty tone in which they were uttered added to their
sting.

We are at best the creatures of circumstances--circumstances had
entirely altered him. At that moment, Nobili was at war with all
the world. He hated himself--he hated and he mistrusted every one.
Guglielmi was not certainly adapted to restore faith in mankind.

Legal habits had taught Maestro Guglielmi to shape his countenance
into a mask, fashioned to whatever expression he might desire to
assume. Never had the trick been so difficult! The intense rage
that possessed him was uncontrollable. For the first moment he stood
stolidly mute. Then he struck the heel of his boot loudly upon the
stuccoed floor--would he could crush Count Nobili thus!--crush him
and trample upon him--Nobili--the only obstacle to the high honors
awaiting him! The next instant Guglielmi was reproaching himself for
his want of control--the next instant he was conscious how needful it
was to dissemble. Was he--Guglielmi--who had flashed his sword in
a thousand battles, to be worsted by a stubborn boy? Outwitted by a
capricious lover? Never!

"Excuse me, Count Nobili," he said, overmastering himself by a violent
effort--"it is a bitter pang to me, your devoted friend, to be asked
to become a party to an act fatal to your prospects. If you adhere
to your resolution, you can never return to Lucca--never inhabit the
palace your wealth has so superbly decorated. Public opinion would not
permit it. You, a stranger in the city, are held to have ill-use