who were witnesses of our presence together last night, you
would not now marry her you were anxious to espouse yesterday.

"I shall marry an angel!" said Maulear, falling on his knees before
Aminta, "an angel of candor and virtue. If your heart does not yet
reciprocate the love you inspire, my care and tenderness will so delight
you, that some day you will love me."

"Well, then," said she to Maulear, "grant me one favor. Suffer me to
await that day. Take pity on a poor girl full of terror and
apprehension, at a tie she has always feared. Grant her heart time to
make itself worthy of you, Marquis, and remember that until then you are
free. As my mother has told you, nothing binds you to me. Now you owe me
nothing, nor will you, until I shall confide my destiny to your hands,
when you will owe me the happiness you promise me."

"You do not consent? Then, Signorina, I will wait. Henceforth, however,
I am pledged _to you_; and my hand and heart are yours."

Just then a servant told Maulear that a courier from Naples had brought
him important letters. The Marquis bade adieu to the two ladies, and
left.

"My child," said Signora Rovero, in a tone of affectionate reproach,
"what must a man do to win your love?"

"I do not know; I am certainly foolish, but I am afraid!"

Maulear found the courier of the French embassy in his room. "An urgent
letter from France," said he, to Maulear.

Henri read the direction and shuddered. It was from the Prince de
Maulear. The Prince wrote rarely. What did he ask? The son who felt that
he had acted incorrectly in disposing of his hand, without consulting
the head of his family, trembled before he broke the seal. The character
of Maulear was weak, as we have said, and, like people of this kind, the
prospect of danger and misfortune annoyed him more than the reality
itself. At last he resolved to know all, and with a trembling hand
opened the letter. He read as follows:

"Paris, April 10, 1816.

"MY SON:--I often hear of you, not through your own letters, for you
write rarely, but through other friends, whom I have requested to keep
me _au fait_. I know what kind of life you lead at Naples, and am
dissatisfied with you. The son of a shop-keeper and a banker would act
more like a gentleman than you. People talk of you here no better than
they do of the deputy of the hangman. I had hoped the Marquis de Maulear
would behave more correctly in a foreign country. I was no older than