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My Novel — Volume 12 by Baron Edward Bulwer Lytton Lytton
page 54 of 359 (15%)
which you would have headed as a Catiline, if it had not better suited
your nature to betray it as a Judas. In ten days from this time, these
letters will be laid before the emperor and his Council."

"Are you satisfied, Monsieur le Comte," said Harley, "with your atonement
so far? If not, I have procured you the occasion to render it yet more
complete. Before you stands the kinsman you have wronged. He knows now,
that though, for a while, you ruined his fortunes, you failed to sully
his hearth. His heart can grant you pardon, and hereafter his hand may
give you alms. Kneel then, Giulio Franzini, kneel at the feet of
Alphonso, Duke of Serrano."

The above dialogue had been in French, which only a few of the Italians
present understood, and that imperfectly; but at the name with which
Harley concluded his address to the count, a simultaneous cry from those
Italians broke forth.

"Alphonso the Good! Alphonso the Good! Viva, viva, the good Duke of
Serrano!"

And, forgetful even of the count, they crowded round the tall form of
Riccabocca, striving who should first kiss his hand, the very hem of his
garment.

Riccabocca's eyes overflowed. The gaunt exile seemed transfigured into
another and more kingly man. An inexpressible dignity invested him. He
stretched forth his arms, as if to bless his countrymen. Even that rude
cry, from humble men, exiles like himself, consoled him for years of
banishment and penury.

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