ape and put him out of the room.

"If you do not leave me in quiet this evening, we never meet again.
And my _never_ counts for more than yours," she added.

"Quiet!" retorted the Duke, with a bitter laugh. "Dear idol, it
strikes me that I am leaving you _agitata_!"

The Duke departed.

His mean spirit was no surprise to Emilio.

Every man who has accustomed himself to some particular taste, chosen
from among the various effects of love, in harmony with his own
nature, knows that no consideration can stop a man who has allowed his
passions to become a habit.

Clarina bounded like a fawn from the door to the bed.

"A prince, and poor, young, and handsome!" cried she. "Why, it is a
fairy tale!"

The Sicilian perched herself on the bed with the artless freedom of an
animal, the yearning of a plant for the sun, the airy motion of a
branch waltzing to the breeze. As she unbuttoned the wristbands of her
sleeves, she began to sing, not in the pitch that won her the applause
of an audience at the _Fenice_, but in a warble tender with emotion.
Her song was a zephyr carrying the caresses of her love to the heart.

She stole a glance at Emilio, who was as much embarrassed as she; for