r large debt I owe to you--thus
my honor will be satisfied, and you, I am sure, will have a better
opinion of

"Yours to command,

"GUIDO FERRARI."

This was the letter, and I read it over and over again. Some of the
words burned themselves into my memory as though they were living
flame. "All her letters to me have been full of the utmost tenderness!"
Oh, miserable-dupe! fooled, fooled to the acme of folly even as I had
been! SHE, the arch-traitress, to prevent his entertaining the
slightest possible suspicion or jealousy of her actions during his
absence, had written him, no doubt, epistles sweet as honey brimming
over with endearing epithets and vows of constancy, even while she knew
she had accepted me as her husband--me--good God! What a devil's dance
of death it was!

"On my return I shall make it my first duty to pay back with interest
the rather large debt I owe you" (rather large indeed, Guido, so large
that you have no idea of its extent!), "thus my honor will be
satisfied" (and so will mine in part), "and you, I am sure, will have a
better opinion of yours to command." Perhaps I shall, Guido--mine to
command as you are--perhaps when all my commands are fulfilled to the
bitter end, I may think more kindly of you. But not till then! In the
meantime--I thought earnestly for a few minutes, and then sitting down,
I penned the following note.

"Caro amico! Delighted to hear of your good fortune, and still more
enchanted to know you will soon enliven us all with your presence! I
admire your little plan of surprising the countess, and will respect
your wishes in the matter. But you, on your part, must do me a trifling
favor: we have been very dull since you left, and I purpose to start
the gayeties afresh by giving a dinner on the 24th (Christmas Eve), in
honor of your return--an epicurean repast for gentlemen only.
Therefore, I ask you to oblige me by fixing your return for that day,
and on arrival at Naples, come straight to me at this hotel, that I may
have the satisfaction of being the first to welcome you as you deserve.
Telegraph your answer and the hour of your train; and my carriage shall
meet you at the station. The dinner-hour can be fixed to suit your
convenience of course; what say you to eight o'clock? After dinner you
can betake yourself to the Villa Romani when you please--your enjoyment
of the lady's surprise and rapture will be the more keen for having
been slightly delayed. Trusting you w