ere the
husband is much older than the wife, and there has been a long interval
without children before she condescends to increase the population of
the world, she (that is, it is at least as nine to four)--she brings
into the world a male. I consider that point therefore as settled,
according to the calculations of statisticians and the researches of
naturalists."

Harley could not help laughing, though he was still angry and disturbed.

"The same man as ever; always the fool of philosophy."

"Cospetto!" said Riccabocca. "I am rather the philosopher of fools. And
talking of that, shall I present you to my Jemima?"

"Yes; but in turn I must present you to one who remembers with gratitude
your kindness, and whom your philosophy, for a wonder, has not ruined.
Some time or other you must explain that to me. Excuse me for a moment;
I will go for him.

"For him,--for whom? In my position I must be cautious; and--"

"I will answer for his faith and discretion. Meanwhile order dinner, and
let me and my friend stay to share it."

"Dinner? Corpo di Bacco!--not that Bacchus can help us here. What will
Jemima say?"

"Henpecked man, settle that with your connubial tyrant. But dinner it
must be."

I leave the reader to imagine the delight of Leonard at seeing once more
Riccabocca unchanged and Violante so improved, and the kind Jemima too;
and their wonder at him and his history, his books and his fame. He
narrated his struggles and adventures with a simplicity that removed
from a story so personal the character of egotism. But when he came to
speak of Helen he was brief and reserved.

Violante would have questioned more closely; but, to Leonard's relief,
Harley interposed.

"You shall see her whom he speaks of before long, and question her
yourself."

With these words, Harley turned the young man's narrative into new
directions; and Leonard's words again flowed freely. Thus the evening
passed away happily to all save Riccabocca. For the thought of his dead
wife rose ever and anon before the exile; but when it did, and became
too painful, he crept nearer to Jemima, and looked in her simple face,
and pressed her cordial hand. And yet the monster had implied to Harley
that his comforter was a fool,--so she was, to love so contemptible a
slanderer of herself and her sex.

Violante was in a state of blissful excitement; she could not analyze
her own joy. But her conversation was chiefly with Leonard; and the
most sile