"Ah, had I met Monte-Leone in the days of my innocence, in the days when I also looked for some one to guide my early steps, with my hand in his, with my heart beating against his, I should, perhaps, have avoided the rocks on which I have been wrecked? To the Count, however, I could be now but an ordinary woman, whose attractions might, perhaps, for the moment fascinate him, but whom he would soon cast aside, as he has his other conquests: then I feel I should have killed him!"
The Count quietly read on:
"I loved him too fondly to become his mistress; yet his image pursued me by night and day. At last my heart, in its immense and pure love, inspired me with the noblest and purest idea: 'Be more than a woman, be more than a mistress to him,' said I to myself, 'be a providence, a secret and protecting providence which preserves him in all dangers, and provides all his happiness.' Alas! I fancied that I had to defend Monte-Leone only against the ordinary perils of life, against the rivalry excited by his triumphs, and not against the serious dangers to which his opinions subjected him. I soon heard the rumors which were being circulated about the Count, learned of his danger, and the perilous part he had to play in relation to the secret societies. I learned all this from public rumor, but I needed other aid and information to guide me in the defence of him I loved. Among those most carried away by my talent, and if I must say so, most captivated by my beauty, was the Duke of Palma, minister of police. I received the minister kindly, and without yielding to his persuasions, conferred trifling favors on him. His confidence in me was immense. When I was stern to him he became desperate, but he professed there was such a charm in my company that he sought constantly to see me. Minister as he was, he became not my sicisbeo, for that I would consent to at no price, but my cavaliero sirviente, thus occupying the second grand hierarchy of love. I learned from the minister himself the snares prepared for Monte-Leone, twenty times I informed your friend of them, and enabled him to avoid them. In the same manner I heard of your imprudent folly at the ball of San-Carlo, and you know what I did to avert its consequences. A certain Lippiani, a skilful officer placed by means of my influence in the Neapolitan police, while paying a visit of inspection to the jailor of the Castle Del Uovo, contrived to introduce into the prisoner's loaf the mysterious information he received. The imagination, or rather the genius of the Count, inspired him with a design to secure his liberty. To assure the success of this ruse, the Count escaped for some hours from his prison, and amid that season of trouble, energy, and anguish, Monte-Leone lost the famous ring he always wears. This loss again placed his life and liberty in danger. Then I conceived a hardy and bold plan, which cannot succeed without your aid and devotion. On that, however, for you so promised me, I rely. I learned that you were a prisoner, but were about to be released. You can then aid me, but it is necessary to awake no suspicion. Aware of every outlet to the palace, which had often been shown to me by the Duke of Palma, I remembered a certain secret passage and door hidden in a pillar, whither the Duke often comes, to hear, unseen, the examinations of prisoners. Thither I sought to come. The porter admitted me at night; doubtless, fancying I was come to keep an appointment with his master. Of what value, however, were honor and reputation to me compared with his danger. Now, Taddeo, read with attention the lines I am about to write; follow my advice exactly, or Monte-Leone is lost.
"I obtained possession for a few days of the emerald lost by the Count, and which had been sent by his enemies to the Duke of Palma. At a great cost I caused a similar one to be made by one of the most skilful workmen of Naples. The copy will be easily recognized: that is what I wish. I have substituted it for the original, and placed it myself in the minister's jewel case, the key of which he had given to me to take an antique cameo, the design of which I wished. The false ring will be given to the Count, instead of the true one, which is in the coffret I have placed by you. Go to Monte-Leone's house, during the night after your release. I am too closely watched now, to dare go thither myself. Give this ring to the old servant, tell him to deliver it to the judges, but not till the trial. The enemies of whom I spoke will be overcome by this pretended proof of their imposition, and the safety of the Count will be sure. I have told you all. Now, Taddeo, excuse me for having pained you by my disclosure. Excuse me for having unfolded all my heart to you, excuse me for having permitted you to read my most secret sentiments. Your love deserves something better than mine; but if it inspire you with any pity for me, rescue the Count from the executioner, and know that to save Monte-Leone is to save La Felina."
"What a woman!" said the Count, as he let fall the letter; "what passion and devotion!"
"Ah!" said Taddeo, who looked anxiously into the eyes of the Count, to divine the effect produced by the singer's letter, "you see her devotion pleases and touches you:—that you love her——"
"Taddeo," said the Count, with great emotion, "that woman was my providence, and defended me against my accusers.... She saved my life.... It is a noble heart that thus hopelessly devotes itself. Let me give her all my gratitude.... A poor and sterile recompense for such devotion. The other sentiments of my heart you shall also know!"
Rising up with the dignified and lofty air of a noble, he said:
"Taddeo Rovero, Count Monte-Leone asks of you the hand of Aminta Rovero, your sister."
Just then a painful exclamation was heard in the next room. Monte-Leone seized his dagger and rushed to the door. He threw it open, and a strange spectacle presented itself to him. A woman, pale and trembling, leaned on the arm of an old man. Her eyes, fixed and tearful, seemed to look without seeing, and her ears appeared to catch no sound. It was La Felina. She was sustained by old Giacomo.