At that moment Carlo mounted the steps leading to the door of the villa. Paulo met him with a hearty greeting.
“Let us go down into the garden,” said he, “I have many things to say to you.”
The two men remained a long time in the garden. Natalie, standing at the window, occasionally saw them, arm in arm, at some turning of the walks, and then they would again disappear as they pursued their way in earnest conversation. Strange thoughts flitted through the soul of the young maiden, and when she saw the two thus wandering, arm in arm, she thoughtfully asked herself: “Which is it, then, that I most love? Is it Carlo, is it Paulo?”
“I now understand you perfectly,” said Count Paulo, as they again approached the house after a long and earnest conversation. “Yes, it seems to me I know you as myself, and know I can confide in you. You have perfectly tranquillized me, and I thank you for your confidence. It was then Corilla, that vain improvisatrice, who would have destroyed her? That is consoling, and I can now depart with a lighter heart. Against such attacks you will be able to protect her.”
“I will protect her against every attack,” responded Carlo. “You have my oath that the secret you have confided to me shall be held sacred, and you have thereby secured her from every outbreak of my passion. She stands so high above me that I can only adore her as my saint, can love her only as one loves the unattainable stars!”
AN HONEST BETRAYER
At about the same time Cecil was hastening through the streets of Rome, often looking back to see if any one was following him, and viewing with suspicious eyes every one he met. He finally stopped before the backdoor of a palace, and, after having satisfied himself that he had not been followed, he lightly knocked three times at the door. Upon its being opened, a grim, bearded Russian face presented itself.
Cecil drew a ring from his bosom and showed it to the porter.
“Quick! conduct me to his excellency,” said he.