“‘I mean,’ she continued, ‘that the terrible post of public executioner must remain in our family while it exists; and those who form marriages with us, are considered to enter into our family. When my father dies, my brother will succeed him, but should my brother die without leaving issue, or having a son to take his place, you, signor, if you become my husband, will be forced to assume the terrible office.’
“‘But I am not a Neapolitan,’ I exclaimed; ‘and I should hope that when we are united, you will not insist upon dwelling in Naples.’
“‘I would give worlds to leave this odious city,’ she said, emphatically.
“‘Nothing detains me here another day, nor another hour,’ I cried; ‘let the priest unite our hands, and we forthwith set off for Florence. But why should not our marriage take place privately, unknown even to your father? and in that case no entry could be made in the books of the lieutenant of police.’
“‘You have expressed that desire which I myself feared to utter, lest you should think it unmaidenly,’ she murmured. ‘For your sake I will quit home and kindred without further hesitation.’
“I was rejoiced at this proof of affection and confidence on her part; and it was arranged between us that we should be married on the ensuing evening, and in the most private way possible.
“Before we parted, however, I drew from her a solemn pledge that, when once she had become my wife, she would never even allude to her family—that she would not communicate to them the name of her husband nor the place of our abode, under any circumstance—in a word, that she would consider her father and brother as dead to her,—and she to them.
“With streaming eyes and sobbing heart she gave the sacred promise I required, ratifying it with an oath which I made her repeat to my dictation.
“On the ensuing evening Vitangela met me according to appointment, and it was then I revealed to her my real name and rank.
“‘Dearest girl,’ I said, ‘you gave me your heart, believing me to be a poor and humble individual; and you have consented to become my wife and abandon home and kindred for my sake. Profoundly then do I rejoice that it is in my power to elevate you to a position of which your beauty, your amiability and your virtue render you so eminently worthy; and in my own native Florence, no lady will be more courted, nor treated with greater distinction than the Countess of Riverola.’