?"

"But allow me to bestow a regret on the Bergmanns' delightful house,"
said Rodolphe, pointing to the little promontory.

"Come and dine with us to add to your associations, _povero mio_," said
she. "This is a great day; we are out of danger. My mother writes that
within a year there will be an amnesty. Oh! _la cara patria_!"

These three words made Gina weep. "Another winter here," said she, "and
I should have been dead!"

"Poor little Sicilian kid!" said Francesca, stroking Gina's head with an
expression and an affection which made Rodolphe long to be so caressed,
even if it were without love.

The boat grounded; Rodolphe sprang on to the sand, offered his hand to
the Italian lady, escorted her to the door of the Bergmanns' house, and
went to dress and return as soon as possible.

When he joined the librarian and his wife, who were sitting on the
balcony, Rodolphe could scarcely repress an exclamation of surprise at
seeing the prodigious change which the good news had produced in the old
man. He now saw a man of about sixty, extremely well preserved, a lean
Italian, as straight as an I, with hair still black, though thin and
showing a white skull, with bright eyes, a full set of white teeth,
a face like Caesar, and on his diplomatic lips a sardonic smile, the
almost false smile under which a man of good breeding hides his real
feelings.

"Here is my husband under his natural form," said Francesca gravely.

"He is quite a new acquaintance," replied Rodolphe, bewildered.

"Quite," said the librarian; "I have played many a part, and know
well how to make up. Ah! I played one in Paris under the Empire, with
Bourrienne, Madame Murat, Madame d'Abrantis _e tutte quanti_. Everything
we take the trouble to learn in our youth, even the most futile, is of
use. If my wife had not received a man's education--an unheard-of thing
in Italy--I should have been obliged to chop wood to get my living
here. _Povera_ Francesca! who would have told me that she would some day
maintain me!"

As he listened to this worthy bookseller, so easy, so affable, so hale,
Rodolphe scented some mystification, and preserved the watchful silence
of a man who has been duped.

"_Che avete, signor_?" Francesca asked with simplicity. "Does our
happiness sadden you?"

"Your husband is a young man," he whispered in her ear.

She broke into such a frank, infectious laugh that Rodolphe was still
more puzzled.

"He is but sixty-five, at your s