"Welcome to him! dear mother. You understand that this man had been his rival, and loved me. I will confess to you, dear mother, as I do to God. He loves me yet, I am sure, though he never told me so; for his looks are what they were, and when he spoke, his emotion told me that he was unaltered. Since that ball, Monte-Leone, thus authorized by the Marquis, has visited me. My husband is not at all displeased at it; tell me, do you think he loves me still? Yesterday, dear mother, I went into my husband's room, to look for a bottle of salts I had forgotten. The Marquis was absent, and his secretary was open, a strange disorder pervaded the room; a few papers were lying about, and among others, I saw a column of figures; I was about to look at them, and had already extended my hand towards it, when I heard a cry, and on turning around saw my husband, pale and alarmed. He advanced towards me, and seizing my arm convulsively, said, Signora, who gave you a right to examine my papers? It is an abuse of confidence which I never can forgive. I grew pale with surprise and grief. 'Sir, said I, such a reproach is unmerited, if there be any thing improper, it is your tone and air.' I left the room, for I was overpowered, and did not wish to weep before him. One hour afterwards, on his knees, he besought me to pardon him for an excitement which he would never be able to pardon himself. He was once more, dear mother, kind as he had ever been; he repeated his vows of eternal love, and exhibited all his former tenderness. His looks hung on me as they used to, and I began to hope he would continue to love me. A cruel idea, however, pursued me, what was the secret shut up in the paper he would not suffer me to read? Why did he, usually so calm and cold, become so much enraged?"
Just then the letter of the Marquise de Maulear was interrupted by the bell which announced the coming of visitors. Aminta remembered that it was reception day, and persons came to say that several visitors awaited her. She went down stairs. On the evening of the same day she resumed her letter.
"I resume my pen to tell you of a strange circumstance which occurred to-day. When I broke off so suddenly, I found some visitors awaiting me. Visiting in Paris is insignificant and meaningless, performed on certain fixed days. Conversation on these occasions is commonplace. People only talk of the pleasure of meeting, and slander is so much the vogue that it is not prudent to leave certain rooms until every one else has gone, lest you should be hacked to pieces by those left behind. My father-in-law came into the room and gave some life to the conversation. The Prince was not alone, for Count Monte-Leone came with him. Why, dear mother, should I conceal from you, that the presence of the Count causes always an invincible distress? This man is so decided and resolute that he never seemed to me like other people. He seems half god and half demon. His keen and often expressive glance, his firm voice made mild by emotion, the tout ensemble of his character, seems to call him to great crimes or sublime actions.
"The Prince said, 'Do you know, Aminta, that the Count is the only person in Paris whom I have to beg to come to see you? I have absolutely to use violence. I had just now almost to use violence to bring him hither.'
"'The Prince, Madame,' said the Count, respectfully, 'looks on respect as reserve. The pleasure of seeing you is too great for me to run the risk of losing it by abusing the privilege.'
"'Bah! bah!' said the Prince, 'mere gallantry, nothing more. We emigrés, from associating with the English, have lost some of our peculiarities; and I, at least, have contracted one excellent custom. When an Englishman says to a man, "my house is yours," he absolutely means what he says, and the privilege should be used. Your host looks on you as a part of his family, and people of the neighborhood esteem you as much a part of the household as the old grandfather's chair is. You go, come, sit at the table, eat and drink, as if you were at home. This generous hospitality pleases me, because it recalls that of our own ancestors.'
"'Brother,' said the Countess, 'this hospitality can never be acclimated in France, especially in households where there are as pretty women as in ours.'
"'Sister, such privileges are accorded only to people of the honor of whom we are well-assured, like the Count. Besides, travellers like ourselves are hard to please in beauty. Not that the Marquise is not beautiful; but if you had been as we were at Ceprano, if you had only read the interesting chapter I have written in relation to that country, you would see that many perfections are needed to wound hearts that are so cosmopolitan as ours.'
"The Count was about to reply, when the doors were opened and the Duchess of Palma was announced. I looked at Monte-Leone just then, and he changed countenance at once. I saw him immediately go to the darkest part of the room. This was the first time I had ever received the Duchess of Palma. There seemed no motive for her visit. I had paid mine after the ball, and there was no obligation between us. The Duchess is a beautiful, elegant, and dignified woman. It is said she is of a noble family; and her manners evidently betoken high cultivation. The Duchess told me kindly that she had not seen enough of me at the ball, and that I must take the visit as an evidence of her devotion and admiration. The Prince of Maulear approached. 'We are especially flattered, Duchess,' said he, and he emphasized the word, looking at the same time at some ladies I received; 'we are especially flattered by the honor you confer on us. We know how careful you are in the bestowal of such favors. It is a favor, as pleasant as it is honorable.'
"'I have been suffering, Prince,' replied the Duchess, 'with deep distress, and I will not reflect on any one the burden of my sorrows.'