o left the theatre.
Taddeo did not come. The doors of the theatre were closed, and the Count
still waited. Surprised and impatient he went to his hotel, where Taddeo
also lived, but he was not there. Night passed away, and he did not
come. About three in the morning a stranger was shown in, and gave
Monte-Leone three letters. One of them was addressed to the Count: he
opened it anxiously.

"Excuse me, my dear friend, at quitting you thus. Excuse me, especially
the uneasiness I have created in your mind"--wrote Taddeo--"I have
learned that she left Naples to-night, and if I leave her I shall die. I
will follow her by post and on horseback, without stopping, until I
shall learn whither she has gone. What will I do then! I do not
know,--but at least I will know where she is, and I will not fancy that
she is lost to me for ever. 'To-morrow,' said she, when she left us,
'you will love me less.' She was mistaken, my friend, or she has
deceived me; for to-day I love her better than I did yesterday. My heart
suffers too much for me not to sympathize with yours, and I understand
how impatient you are to go to Sorrento. I send a letter to my good
mother--give it yourself to her. I beg her to receive you as a friend,
and as she would receive a brother of mine. Stay with her until I come
back. Say that in three days I will come back to ask her to give you
Aminta's hand."

"Has the person who gave you these letters gone?" asked Monte-Leone of
the messenger.

"He went an hour since from the post-house, on one of our best horses,"
said the messenger.

Monte-Leone gave him a piece of gold and dismissed him.

"Poor Taddeo!" said he, "to suffer as well as I do--no no, not so much
as I do; for earthly love cannot be compared with heavenly passion.
Jealousy such as I suffer can be compared to nothing; and all is derived
from the serpent's stings, with which Barberini pricked my heart."

The time until day seemed interminable to Monte-Leone. It came at last.
The Count rang for Giacomo and dressed himself elegantly. The old man
on this occasion assisted him cheerfully and zealously, as he had
previously shown repugnance on the night of the terrible expedition at
Torre-del-Greco. Monte-Leone ordered his handsomest equipage. A few
minutes afterwards the horses pawed impatiently in the court-yard, so
that the driver could with difficulty restrain them. When the Count came
down, he found Giacomo standing in the door of the saloon so as to