"What say you?" said the Count.
"I say that I am willing to abandon many schemes, but will not be diverted from being useful to you—from defending you against your enemies—nor cease to be what I once was, a secret providence, an Ægis against danger. You know I learned this long ago, and am happy to be again able to assume the part."
The Count did not know what to think, and his face expressed doubt and incredulity.
"Well, well," said she bitterly, "you suspect, you doubt me, and do not think me generous enough to return good for evil. So be it; judge me by my actions rather than my words. The former will soon convince you of my devotion."
"What devotion, Signora, do you speak of?" said the Count with curiosity.
"Plainly speaking, of the most sublime of all devotion—of making you happy at the expense of myself. I wish to retain you here in France, where the happiness of which I speak exists, to keep you by her who loves you and by whom you are loved."
"What say you?" said the Count, "would you do so?"
"I will try," said Felina. "I have been forced to adopt strange and extreme means," added she, with a smile. "You know serious cases require violent remedies, and I had no choice."
"Felina," said the Count, with emotion, "I have just committed an offence against you, for which I blush, and which my frankness alone can excuse. When you were busy in my behalf I fancied you the cause of my troubles."
"That is very natural, and I am not at all surprised," said the Duchess. "People in this world are not apt to repay evil with good. I, however, do not wish to appear to you to be better than I am. Perhaps I am less deserving than you think. Time, it is said, cures the greatest mortifications, and dissipates the deepest passions. Three months ago I did not think it possible that I could have acted thus on your behalf. Then I was but a poor despised woman, passionate and deserted. Now I am your friend, sincere and devoted."