is, he has tried the round of pleasures without enjoyment; he has
no interests, no aspirations, no hopes; he looks on death as a
welcome release. His friend the Count, admitted to a farewell
interview, has invented a stratagem by which the prisoner may
escape and take to flight. The Marquis expresses a grateful sense
of obligation, and prefers being shot. "I don't value my life,"
he says; "I am not a happy man like you." Upon this the Count
mentions circumstances which he has hitherto kept secret. He
loves the charming Celia, and loves in vain. Her reputation is
unsullied; she possesses every good quality that a man can desire
in a wife--but the Count's social position forbids him to marry a
woman of low birth. He is heart-broken; and he too finds life
without hope a burden that is not to be borne. The Marquis at
once sees a way of devoting himself to his friend's interests. He
is rich; his money is at his own disposal; he will bequeath a
marriage portion to Celia which will make her one of the richest
women in Italy. The Count receives this proposal with a sigh. "No
money," he says, "will remove the obstacle that still remains. My
father's fatal objection to Celia is her rank in life. "The
Marquis walks apart--considers a little--consults his watch--and
returns with a new idea. "I have nearly two hours of life still
left," he says. "Send for Celia: she was here just now, and she
is probably in her father's cell." The Count is at a loss to
understand what this proposal means. The Marquis explains
himself. "I ask your permission," he resumes, "to offer marriage
to Celia--for your sake. The chaplain of the prison will perform
the ceremony. Before dark, the girl you love will be my widow. My
widow is a lady of title--a fit wife for the greatest nobleman in
the land." The Count protests and refuses in vain. The jailer is
sent to find Celia. She appears. Unable to endure the scene, the