ever, he swore a thousand times, should she have
cause to repent it. In the possession of Enrica's love, all other
desires, aims, ambitions, had--up to the night of the Orsetti
ball--vanished. Up to that night, for her sake, he had grown solitary,
silent--nay, even patient and subtle. He had clean forgotten his
feud with the Marchesa Guinigi, or only remembered it as a possible
obstacle to his union with Enrica; otherwise the marchesa was
absolutely indifferent to him. Up to the night of the Orsetti ball the
whole world was indifferent to him. But now!--

Nobili, sitting very still, his face shaded by his hand, had finished
his cigar. While smoking it he had decided what he would say to
Enrica. Again he took up his pen. This time he dropped it in the ink,
and wrote as follows:

AMORE: I have treasured all the love you gave me when last we met.
I know that love witnesses for me also in your own heart. Beyond all
earthly things you are dear to me. Come to me, O my Enrica--come to
me; never let us part. I must have you, you only. I must gaze upon
you hour by hour; I must hang upon that dear voice. I must feel that
angel-presence ever beside me. When will you meet me? I implore you to
answer. After our next meeting I am resolved to claim you, by force
or by free-will, to be my wife. To wait longer, O my Enrica, is
good neither for you nor for me. My love! my love! you must be
mine--mine--mine! Come to me--come quickly. Your adoring.

"MARIO NOBILI."

CHAPTER V.

NUMBER FOUR AT THE UNIVERSO HOTEL.

Cesare Trenta is dressed with unusual care. His linen is spotless;
his white hair, as fine as silk, is carefully combed; his chin is well
shaven. He wears a glossy white hat, and carries his gold-headed cane
in his hand. Not that he condescends to use that cane as he mounts the
marble staircase of the Universo Hotel (once the Palazzo Buffero)
a little stiffly, on his way to keep his appointment with Count
Marescotti; oh, no--although the cavaliere is well past eighty, he
intends to live much longer; he reserves that cane, therefore, to
assist him in his old age. Now he does not want it.

It is quite clear that Trenta is come on a mission of great
importance; his sleek air, and the solemnly official expression of
his plump rosy face, say so. His glassy blue eyes are without their
pleasant twinkle, and his lips, tightly drawn over his teeth, lack
their usual benignant smile. Even his fat white hand dimples itself
o