"Excuse me, Monsignore, she was permitted to come in; for Signor Rovero, when he brought your ring, said you owed your safety to her."
"Felina!" said Taddeo. He fell at the singer's feet.
She remained motionless as a statue whose lips only were living.
"Signore Monte-Leone," said she, "I leave Naples to-night, and for ever. Before I did so, however, I wished to see and give you a piece of advice. Death menaces you from all sides, and your most insignificant actions are observed. Escape from the country, for here you will no longer find the faithful friends who have watched over you."
"Say, Signora, the faithful friend, the generous providence who saved me from the axe of the executioner."
"You know all, Signor," said La Felina; and she looked at Taddeo—"my secret has been revealed to you—for blushing, however, I now acknowledge with pride that it is true, for it has won for me the expressions you uttered just now. Alas!" said she bitterly, "I should have fled and have heard no more."
Tears filled her eyes; overcoming her emotion, however, she said:
"My mission is fulfilled, Count Monte-Leone, for you will live and be happy. If misfortune, though, befall you, do not forget that one heart in the world will taste of all your sorrow.—Taddeo," said she, giving the young man her hand, "time and reason will exert their influence on so noble a heart, and ere long you will find one worthy of you. Forget me," she added, when she saw him about to reply, "do not speak to me of sentiments the intensity of which I know—and I will assist you to triumph. To-morrow you will love me less. I know so. To-morrow."
"To-morrow!" said Taddeo.
"Yes," said Felina, "and in a little time I shall be but the shadow of a dream, which some reality will expel from your heart."