Juana, after waiting for him in vain for several nights, would risk
her life, perhaps, in asking Perez what had become of his guest; and
Perez would reply, not aware of the importance of his answer,--

"The Marquis de Montefiore is reconciled to his family, who consent to
receive his wife; he has gone to Italy to present her to them."

And Juana?--The marquis never asked himself what would become of
Juana; but he had studied her character, its nobility, candor, and
strength, and he knew he might be sure of her silence.

He obtained a mission from one of the generals. Three days later, on
the night preceding his intended departure, Montefiore, instead of
returning to his own room after dinner, contrived to enter unseen that
of Juana, to make that farewell night the longer. Juana, true Spaniard
and true Italian, was enchanted with such boldness; it argued ardor!
For herself she did not fear discovery. To find in the pure love of
marriage the excitements of intrigue, to hide her husband behind the
curtains of her bed, and say to her adopted father and mother, in case
of detection: "I am the Marquise de Montefiore!"--was to an ignorant
and romantic young girl, who for three years past had dreamed of love
without dreaming of its dangers, delightful. The door closed on this
last evening upon her folly, her happiness, like a veil, which it is
useless here to raise.

It was nine o'clock; the merchant and his wife were reading their
evening prayers; suddenly the noise of a carriage drawn by several
horses resounded in the street; loud and hasty raps echoed from the
shop where the servant hurried to open the door, and into that
venerable salon rushed a woman, magnificently dressed in spite of the