"But you did not hear this terrible scene," said he.
"I did. Every word fell on my heart as if it would crush it. They were, though, the results of error and anger. The honor of Monte-Leone is above such imputations."
"Aminta," said the Count, "they are only the echoes of the world. My fury cannot reach the thousand mouths which dishonor me. I can speak only through their interpreters. Blood alone can wash out the insults they have subjected me to—ask me, then, for my own life, but not for the life of those who have thus insulted me."
"One of them is my brother,—is your friend."
"My dearest friend," said the Count, "one who knows my very inmost life, and has had a thousand opportunities to judge me. He was bold enough to repeat that odious calumny to me. Ah!" continued he, with sombre vehemence, "that this corrupt world, which knows me not, should have been able thus to heap suspicion on me! The world has judged me by itself; but Taddeo is the very reflection of my own soul. The name of friend seemed too little for him. I loved him as I would have loved my mother's son. He was the object of my second love on earth. Aminta, Taddeo has leagued himself with my enemies, and came hither to affront me mortally. This is too much for my heart and physical endurance." Count Monte-Leone, who in danger was so firm, wept at the idea that his friends had so misconceived him.
"My friend," said the Marquise, sobbing, and pressing the face of Monte-Leone to her bosom, "Taddeo would shed tears of despair and regret could he only see how you grieve. Certainly he is wrong to doubt your honor, but he will repair his wrongs, and expiate all by repentance. He will defend you, will convince and confound your enemies and will again be your friend."
"He has suspected me," said Monte-Leone, sadly, "and cannot be my friend again, even if he confessed his injustice on his knees before me. He is your brother, though, Aminta, and that imposes a sacrifice on me which my love for you alone can inspire. I will either not avenge the insult, or demand satisfaction for it from another. God grant that other may kill me, for then Taddeo will live without being called on to expiate this outrage."
"Ah!" said Aminta, "that misfortune was absent, but now he wishes to die."
"Yes, Aminta," said the Count, "I wish to die rather than drag out a disgraceful life, without the power of effacing from my brow the stigma placed there, rather than read suspicion in every eye, rather than see myself despised. All parts—all Europe—all the world, perhaps, will repeat this awful charge."
"I do not believe it," said the young woman; "I am sure there is no heart on earth more worthy than yours, and that you may challenge the esteem of all. What I know, though, all others must.——In eight days, Count Monte-Leone, you must marry me. I will be Countess Monte-Leone."