"'They tell me that Paula has betrayed me shamefully; if that be true, I will kill my rival or he shall kill me.'"

"But who could thus have slandered you in Venice?"

"How do I know? Raphael had not even seen his mother. Every body was in utter ignorance of his short stay in Venice. In vain did I question Osorio on this point: he was mute."

"That is very strange."

"Unfortunately he shared Raphael's suspicions. What I foresaw arrived. The attentions of M. de Brévannes, explained by shameful scandal, had compromised me most fatally. I passed in Florence as his mistress, and, when Raphael inquired of me, I was accused by one common voice. However, determined not to be misled by appearances, he had gone straight to M. de Brévannes, had told him of his love for me, and that we were betrothed, that young girls being frequently giddy and coquettish, without being culpable, and that the world was slanderous,—and then entreated M. de Brévannes, in the name of honour, not to conceal the truth, and, whatever it was, he would believe it."

"And Charles de Brévannes?"

"Far from being touched by this language, he treated Raphael with hauteur, and said to him,—

"'Since you have watched Paula Monti for two days, you must know which is her chamber.' 'I know it; for, without being perceived by her, this very morning I saw her in the balcony.' 'Well, be this night at three o'clock in front of that balcony, and you shall have my reply.' You know the rest. Brévannes then said insolently to Raphael, 'Are you satisfied?'

"In his rage, Raphael struck him in the face; a duel ensued at break of day, and he fell. His last wish was to conceal his death from his mother. He preferred leaving her, in that uncertainty in which people remain for many years with respect to sailors, to allowing her to learn that my treachery had killed him. Osorio told me all this; and, his sad mission fulfilled, he went away without listening to a word of my assurances and protestations. I have since heard that he died in the East; and Raphael's mother is continually expecting her son. He died cursing me—died in calling and believing me infamous and perjured—dead—killed by Charles de Brévannes, that calumniator and murderer!"

"Ah, it is horrible! and your aunt Vasari?"