there is such a thing as conscience. However, we must rid ourselves of
an impertinent. Mascari, Signor Zanoni hath not yet honoured our poor
house with his presence. He is a distinguished stranger,--we must give a
banquet in his honour."

"Ah, and the Cyprus wine! The cypress is a proper emblem of the grave."

"But this anon. I am superstitious; there are strange stories of
Zanoni's power and foresight; remember the death of Ughelli. No matter,
though the Fiend were his ally, he should not rob me of my prize; no,
nor my revenge."

"Your Excellency is infatuated; the actress has bewitched you."

"Mascari," said the prince, with a haughty smile, "through these veins
rolls the blood of the old Visconti--of those who boasted that no woman
ever escaped their lust, and no man their resentment. The crown of my
fathers has shrunk into a gewgaw and a toy,--their ambition and their
spirit are undecayed! My honour is now enlisted in this pursuit,--Viola
must be mine!"

"Another ambuscade?" said Mascari, inquiringly.

"Nay, why not enter the house itself?--the situation is lonely, and the
door is not made of iron."

"But what if, on her return home, she tell the tale of our violence? A
house forced,--a virgin stolen! Reflect; though the feudal privileges
are not destroyed, even a Visconti is not now above the law."

"Is he not, Mascari? Fool! in what age of the world, even if the Madmen
of France succeed in their chimeras, will the iron of law not bend
itself, like an osier twig, to the strong hand of power and gold? But
look not so pale, Mascari; I have foreplanned all things. The day that
she leaves this palace, she will leave it for France, with Monsieur Jean
Nicot."

Before Mascari could reply, the gentleman of the chamber announced the
Signor Zanoni.

The prince involuntarily laid his hand upon the sword placed on the
table, then with a smile at his own impulse, rose, and met his visitor
at the threshold, with all the profuse and respectful courtesy of
Italian simulation.

"This is an honour highly prized," said the prince. "I have long desired
to clasp the hand of one so distinguished."

"And I give it in the spirit with which you seek it," replied Zanoni.

The Neapolitan bowed over the hand he pressed; but as he touched it a
shiver came over him, and his heart stood still. Zanoni bent on him his
dark, smiling eyes, and then seated himself with a familiar air.

"Thus it is signed and sealed; I mean our frie