is explosion, and the shock which the ball produced in
my brain, sunk me into a momentary stupor. I reeled backward, and should
have fallen, had not I supported myself against the wall. The sight of
my blood instantly restored her reason. Her rage disappeared, and was
succeeded by terror and remorse. She clasped her hands, and exclaimed,
"Oh! what! what have I done? My frantic passion has destroyed me."

I needed no long time to show me the full extent of the injury which I
had suffered and the conduct which it became me to adopt. For a moment I
was bewildered and alarmed, but presently perceived that this was an
incident more productive of good than of evil. It would teach me caution
in contending with the passions of another, and showed me that there is
a limit which the impetuosities of anger will sometimes overstep.
Instead of reviling my companion, I addressed myself to her thus:--

"Be not frighted. You have done me no injury, and, I hope, will derive
instruction from this event. Your rashness had like to have sacrificed
the life of one who is your friend, and to have exposed yourself to
infamy and death, or, at least, to the pangs of eternal remorse. Learn
from hence to curb your passions, and especially to keep at a distance
from every murderous weapon, on occasions when rage is likely to take
place of reason.

"I repeat that my motives in entering this house were connected with
your happiness as well as that of Clemenza Lodi. If I have erred in
supposing you the member of a vile and pernicious trade, that error was
worthy of being rectified, but violence and invective tend only to
confirm it. I am incapable of any purpose that is not beneficent; but,
in the means that I use and in the evidence on which I proceed, I am
liable to a thousand mistakes. Point out to me the road by which I can
do you good, and I will cheerfully pursue it."

Finding that her fears had been groundless as to the consequences of her
rashness, she renewed, though with less vehemence than before, her
imprecations on my intermeddling and audacious folly. I listened till
the storm was nearly exhausted, and then, declaring my intention to
revisit the house if the interest of Clemenza should require it, I
resumed my way to the city.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

"Why," said I, as I hasted forward, "is my fortune so abundant in
unforeseen occurrences? Is every man who leaves his cottage and the
impressions of his infancy behind him ushered int