beforehand what was coming, and saw it with deep regret.
For years he had pleased himself with the thought of entrusting his
daughter's happiness to this powerful merchant, the adopted son of an
old friend, of whose affection to Valeria he had long been aware.
Although he had learned to love Totila, he would far rather have had
his old friend for a son-in-law.

And he knew the ungovernable pride and irritable temper of the
Corsican; he feared, in case of refusal, that the old love and
friendship would be speedily changed to burning hate. Dark stories were
told of the wild rage of this man, and Valerius would gladly have
spared both him and himself the pain of a rejection.

But the other continued:

"I think we are both men who do business in a business-like manner.
And, according to old custom, I speak at once to the father, and not
first to the daughter. Give me your child to wife, Valerius! In part
you know my fortune--only in part--for it is far larger than you think.
I will match her dowry, be it never so splendid, with the double----"

"Furius!" interrupted the father.

"I think I am a man who can make his wife happy. At least, I can
protect her better than any one else in these dangerous times. I will
take her in my ships, should Corsica be threatened, to Asia or to
Africa. On every coast there awaits her, not a house, but a palace. No
queen could envy her. I will cherish, her more dearly--more dearly than
my life!"

He paused in extreme agitation, as if expecting a prompt reply.

Valerius was silent, he sought for an excuse--it was but a moment, but
the bare appearance of hesitation on the father's part revolted the
Corsican. The blood rushed to his handsome face, which, just before
almost soft and mild, suddenly assumed an aspect of ferocity; a vivid
red flush spread over his brown cheeks.

"Furius Ahalla," he said hastily, "is not accustomed to offer a thing
twice. Usually my wares, at the first offer, are snatched at with both
hands. I now offer myself--by God! I am not worse than my purple----

"My friend," began the old man, "we no longer live in ancient times.
The new belief has almost deprived a father of the right to dispose of
his daughter. My _will_ would give her to you and to no other, but her
heart----"

"She loves another!" cried the Corsican, "whom?"

And his hand caught at his dagger, as if he would gladly have killed
his rival on the instant.

There was something of the tiger in th