to your great
possessions,--you would naturally look so much higher than me. Should
those hopes fail, then, indeed, it may be different; yet even then, what
position, what fortune, have I to offer to your daughter worthy of her?"

"You are well born: all gentlemen are equals," said Riccabocca, with a
sort of easy nobleness. "You have youth, information, talent--sources of
certain wealth in this happy country--powerful connections; and, in
fine, if you are satisfied with marrying for love, I shall be
contented;--if not, speak openly. As to the restoration to my
possessions, I can scarcely think that probable while my enemy
lives. And even in that case, since I saw you last, something has
occurred (added Riccabocca with a strange smile, which seemed
to Randal singularly sinister and malignant) that may remove all
difficulties.--Meanwhile, do not think me so extravagantly
magnanimous--do not underrate the satisfaction I must feel at knowing
Violante safe from the designs of Peschiera--safe, and for ever, under a
husband's roof. I will tell you an Italian proverb--it contains a truth
full of wisdom and terror:--

"'Hai cinquanta Amici?--non basta.--Hai un Nemico?--e troppo.'"[22]

"Something has occurred!" echoed Randal, not heeding the conclusion of
this speech, and scarcely hearing the proverb which the sage delivered
in his most emphatic and tragic tone. "Something has occurred! My dear
friend, be plainer. What has occurred?" Riccabocca remained silent.
"Something that induces you to bestow your daughter on me?"

Riccabocca nodded, and emitted a low chuckle.

"The very laugh of a fiend," muttered Randal. "Something that makes her
not worth bestowing. He betrays himself. Cunning people always do."

"Pardon me," said the Italian at last, "if I don't answer your question;
you will know later; but, at present, this is a family secret. And now I
must turn to another and more alarming cause for my frankness to you."
Here Riccabocca's face changed, and assumed an expression of mingled
rage and fear. "You must know," he added, sinking his voice, "that
Giacomo has seen a strange person loitering about the house, and looking
up at the windows; and he has no doubt--nor have I--that this is some
spy or emissary of Peschiera's."

"Impossible; how could he discover you?"

"I know not; but no one else has any interest in doing so. The man kept
at a distance, and Giacomo could not see his face."

"It may be but a mere idl