"True," she answered, with one of her sparkling looks; "but perhaps the very fact of the existence of such strong passions amongst my countrywomen, as you would insinuate, may have been my warning and safeguard."
"Where there is no danger, there is no need of a safeguard," said Morley. "You acknowledge, then, that it is by reason, and not by nature, that you are guided."
"You must not press me too hard," exclaimed the lady, laughing--"you know we women never understand how to argue. All I know is, that I never did love, and never shall love any man--not even you, fair sir," she added, laughing--"though you have certainly been much more kind and courteous than most of your countrymen; and the only way I can repay you is, by asking you to come and see me, should you visit Venice, or, at least, should you be there some two months hence. I may then be enabled to return your courtesy in some shape, and perhaps may procure you the means of seeing more of the city of the waves than foreigners usually do see."
"I will certainly avail myself of your invitation," replied Morley; "but you forget that, owing to the strange way in which our acquaintance commenced, I am ignorant, up to the present moment, even of your name."
"Oh, that omission will soon be remedied," answered the lady--"my name is Veronica Pratesi. You will easily find me in Venice."
Thus ended the conversation to which we wished to refer. The lady and Morley spent the evening together at Constance, and part of the next morning. A carriage was easily procured to convey her on her way, and Morley placed her in it, and bade her adieu with feelings of regret.
Her sparkling manner, too, was somewhat overshadowed by passing clouds. At one moment, she was gay and bright as ever; at the next, fell into deep thought. She bade him farewell however, with all the levity of a Frenchwoman; but as soon as the adieu was spoken, and while something was doing to the interminable harness, she gazed down into the bottom of the vehicle, as if to prevent herself from having any more last words. The moment the driver's whip cracked for departure she turned round to look at Morley again; and her face was then overclouded.
CHAPTER XLIX.
"Hi! ha!" said Lieberg, as he sat at breakfast with Morley Ernstein, in the Golden Stag, at Munich--"so you met with the cold and fair Veronica, and actually travelled with her in your own carriage. I trust, Morley, you did not fall in love with her, for there is no hope there. When she first appeared at the opera at Naples--"
"What! she is an actress, then?" demanded Morley Ernstein.