Nothing can describe the intensity of Count Monte-Leone's grief when he was again in the carriage, which, on the evening before, had borne him to happiness, and now took him back to Naples, sad and despairing. The Count had overcome his own nature, and this was a great victory to one who usually yielded to every prompting of passion. On this occasion he had restrained himself and overcome his rage at his rival's triumph. He overcame his agony at the wreck of his hopes. When he left Sorrento, and awoke, so to say, from the stupefaction into which he had plunged, the excitable brain and fiery heart again re-opened.
"I was a fool," said he, "I was a fool when I yielded my happiness to another. I was yet more mad when I swore to respect his life, when something far more violent than mine is wrested from me. Has he not crushed and tortured my heart? I regret even my place of imprisonment," continued he. "There I had dreams of love; and had death reached me in that abyss, I should have borne away hopes of the future which now are crushed for ever."
Two torrents of tears rolled down the cheeks of this iron-hearted man, over which they had rarely flown before.
On the morning after Monte-Leone's return to his hotel, he might have been observed sitting before the portrait of the victim of Carlo III., the holy martyr of conscience, as he called his father, looking on his noble brow with the most tender respect. We have spoken of the almost superstitious faith of the Count in the fact that his father protected him in all the events of his life. We have heard him call on his father when about to be buried in the waves of the sea, and then become resigned to death in the pious faith that his father waited for him. Whenever danger menaced Monte-Leone; whenever he was unexpectedly prosperous, or was involved in misfortune; whenever his life was lighted up with prosperity, or misfortune overwhelmed him, he always looked to this parent. He thought his pure spirit hovered above him; and encouraged by this celestial aid, he trusted to the mutations of fortune without fear or apprehension. When he looked at this adored image, consolation seemed always to descend on his soul. Overcome by the boundless love Aminta had inspired, he had forgotten the political duties to which he was devoted. It seemed to him that this cause, to which he had consecrated his life, had wonderfully diminished in importance since his trial.
"Can it be, oh my father, that you were unwilling for my love to interfere with the prospects of the duties imposed on me by your death? Or, is it that in your pity you have feared that, in my dangers, the angel to whom I have devoted my existence would be overwhelmed. If, oh my father, it be thy will that I suffer these cruel torments; if I am to reserve my energy for the cause I defend, be rejoiced at my sufferings, for I am able to bear them. Ere long I will again see those who have trusted me with their fate, and the suspicions of whom offend and wound me. They will know my resolutions, and I shall know whether I shall remain their leader or tread my weary way alone."
Just then the door of his cabinet opened, and a man appeared, or rather a spectre, so much had his appearance been changed by fatigue and suffering. He rushed into the arms of Monte-Leone.
"Taddeo," said he, "my God! what has happened? How pale you are! Why are these tears in your eyes."
"My friend, La Felina has deceived me only by a day. She was, however, mistaken herself. To-morrow, said she, you will love me less. To-day I love her no more. You see I have done better than she even hoped."
He fell, with his heart crushed, on a chair, and sobbed.
"Speak, speak to me," said Monte-Leone, forgetful of his friend's suffering in his own.