rapidly. Beatrice, leaning back, groaned aloud. Violante drew nearer
to her side. "Are you in pain?" said she, with her tender, melodious
voice; "or can I serve you as you would serve me?"

"Child, give me your hand, and be silent while I look at you. Was I ever
so fair as this? Never! And what deeps--what deeps roll between her and
me!"

She said this as of some one absent, and again sank into silence; but
continued still to gaze on Violante, whose eyes, veiled by their long
fringes, drooped beneath the gaze.

Suddenly Beatrice started, exclaiming, "No, it shall not be!" and placed
her hand on the check-string.

"What shall not be?" asked Violante, surprised by the cry and the action.
Beatrice paused; her breast heaved visibly under her dress.

"Stay," she said slowly. "As you say, we are both women of the same
noble House; you would reject the suit of my brother, yet you have seen
him; his the form to please the eye, his the arts that allure the fancy.
He offers to you rank, wealth, your father's pardon and recall. If I
could remove the objections which your father entertains, prove that the
count has less wronged him than he deems, would you still reject the rank
and the wealth and the hand of Giulio Franzini?"

"Oh, yes, yes; were his hand a king's!"

"Still, then, as woman to woman--both, as you say, akin, and sprung from
the same lineage--still, then, answer me, answer me, for you speak to one