bring to your husband not debts, but a dowry.
Be it so. I will restore the portion that I saved from the spendthrift
clutch of the Genoese,--the moment that it is mine to bestow, the moment
that I am husband to my kinsman's heiress. And now, Beatrice, you imply
that my former notions revolted your conscience; my present plan should
content it, for by this marriage shall our kinsman regain his country,
and repossess, at least, half his lands. And if I am not an excellent
husband to the demoiselle, it will be her own fault. I have sown my wild
oats. Je suis bon prince, when I have things a little my own way. It
is my hope and my intention, and certainly it will be my interest,
to become digne epoux et irreprochable pere de famille. I speak
lightly,--'t is my way. I mean seriously. The little girl will be very
happy with me, and I shall succeed in soothing all resentment her father
may retain. Will you aid me then, yes or no? Aid me, and you shall
indeed be free. The magician will release the fair spirit he has bound
to his will. Aid me not, ma chere, and mark, I do not threaten--I do but
warn--aid me not; grant that I become a beggar, and ask yourself what
is to become of you,--still young, still beautiful, and still penniless?
Nay, worse than penniless; you have done me the honour," and here the
count, looking on the table, drew a letter from a portfolio emblazoned
with his arms and coronet,--"you have done me the honour to consult me
as to your debts."

"You will restore my fortune?" said the marchesa, irresolutely,--and
averting her head from an odious schedule of figures.

"When my own, with your aid, is secured."

"But do you not overrate the value of my aid?"

"Possibly," said the count, with a caressing suavity--and he kissed his
sister's forehead. "Possibly; but, by my honour, I wish to repair to you
any wrong, real or supposed, I may have done you in past times. I wish
to find again my own dear sister. I may over-value your aid, but not the
affection from which it comes. Let us be friends, cara Beatrice mia,"
added the count, for the first time employing Italian words.

The marchesa laid her head on his shoulder, and her tears flowed
softly. Evidently this man had great influence over her,--and evidently,
whatever her cause for complaint, her affection for him was still
sisterly and strong. A nature with fine flashes of generosity, spirit,
honour, and passion was hers; but uncultured, unguided, spoilt by the