"Now you upbraid me," said the count, unruffled by her sudden passion,
"because I gave you in marriage to a man young and noble?"

"Old in vices, and mean of soul! The marriage I forgave you. You had
the right, according to the customs of our country, to dispose of my
hand. But I forgave you not the consolations that you whispered in the
ear of a wretched and insulted wife."

"Pardon me the remark," replied the count, with a courtly bend of his
head, "but those consolations were also conformable to the customs of our
country, and I was not aware till now that you had wholly disdained them.
And," continued the count," you were not so long a wife that the gall of
the chain should smart still. You were soon left a widow,--free,
childless, young, beautiful."

"And penniless."

"True, Di Negra was a gambler, and very unlucky; no fault of mine. I
could neither keep the cards from his hands, nor advise him how to play
them."

"And my own portion? O Giulio, I knew but at his death why you had
condemned me to that renegade Genoese. He owed you money, and, against
honour, and I believe against law, you had accepted my fortune in
discharge of the debt."

"He had no other way to discharge it; a debt of honour must be paid,--old
stories these. What matters? Since then my purse has been open to you."

"Yes, not as your sister, but your instrument, your spy! Yes, your purse