herself in the mirror in my room. I knew the weak spot in all women's
hearts (which men are very wrong in considering as matter for reproach),
and I encouraged her to admire herself, whereupon she could not restrain
a smile of satisfaction.

"I think I must be in disguise," said she, "for I have never seen myself
so decked out before."

She praised the tasteful simplicity of the dress I had chosen, but was
vexed at the thought that her mother would still be displeased.

"Think no more of your mother, dearest one. You look like a lady of
quality, and I shall be quite proud when the people at Genoa ask me if
you are my daughter."

"At Genoa?"

"Yes, at Genoa. Why do you blush?"

"From surprise; perhaps I may see there one whom I have not yet
forgotten."

"Would you like to stay here better?"

"No, no! Love me and be sure that I love you and for your own sake, not
from any thought of my own interests."

"You are moved, my angel; let me wipe away your tears with kisses."

She fell into my arms, and she relieved the various feelings of which her