ain,--you who know mankind so well,--explain. I cannot." The
philosopher could not resist the pleasure of narrating the detection and
humiliation of his foe, the wit, ingenuity, and readiness of his
friend. So Randal learned, by little and little, the whole drama of the
preceding night. He saw, then, that the exile had all reasonable hope
of speedy restoration to rank and wealth. Violante, indeed; would be
a brilliant prize,--too brilliant, perhaps, for Randal, but not to be
sacrificed without an effort. Therefore wringing convulsively the hand
of his meditated father-in-law, and turning away his head as if to
conceal his emotions, the ingenuous young suitor faltered forth that
now Dr. Riccabocca was so soon to vanish into the Duke di Serrano,
he--Randal Leslie of Rood, born a gentleman, indeed, but of fallen
fortunes--had no right to claim the promise which had been given to him
while a father had cause to fear for a daughter's future; with the fear
ceased the promise. Alight Heaven bless father and daughter both!

This address touched both the heart and honour of the exile. Randal
Leslie knew his man. And though, before Randal's visit, Riccabocca was
not quite so much a philosopher but what he would have been well pleased
to have found himself released, by proof of the young man's treachery,
from an alliance below the rank to which he had all chance of early
restoration, yet no Spaniard was ever more tenacious of plighted word
than this inconsistent pupil of the profound Florentine. And Randal's
probity being now clear to him, he repeated, with stately formalities,
his previous offer of Violante's hand.

"But," still falteringly sighed the provident and far-calculating
Randal--"but your only child, your sole heiress! Oh, might not your
consent to such a marriage (if known before your recall) jeopardize your
cause? Your lands, your principalities, to devolve on the child of an
humble Englishman! I dare not believe it. Ah, would Violante were not
your heiress!"

"A noble wish," said Riccabocca, smiling blandly, "and one that the
Fates will realize. Cheer up; Violante will not be my heiress."

"Ah," cried Randal, drawing a long breath--"ah, what do I hear?"

"Hist! I shall soon a second time be a father. And, to judge by the
unerring researches of writers upon that most interesting of all
subjects, parturitive science, I shall be the father of a son. He will,
of course, succeed to the titles of Serrano. And Violante-