"This man did not think you were as yet sufficiently degraded in the eyes of the world and your brethren. Taking advantage of a visit you paid me, he went into your carriage with a cloak like yours over his shoulders, and was driven to the Prefecture of Police."
"This is hell itself," said the Count.
"Did I not say this man was a demon?" said La Felina, coldly. "All this evidence was accumulated against you. The French Government was deceived, and did not exert severity towards the powerful chief of the Carbonari, now become, as it believed, its agent. The world and public opinion did their work."
"Why was all this? what was the motive?"
"You had destroyed the happiness of your enemy, and in return the sacrifice of your honor was exacted; you had deserted one who adored you, and sought to marry another; to prevent this she disgraced you. Now, Count Monte-Leone," said La Felina, rising up, "is it necessary for me to name that woman? Do you know me?"
"Wretch!" said the Count, "are you not afraid that I will kill you?"
"Why?" said she, "am I not dying?"
"Well," said he, "you shall carry to the tomb one crime in addition to the offences you have revealed to me. With honor you destroyed my life." Taking a pistol from his bosom he placed it to his brow, and was about to fire—
At the last words of the Count a door was thrown open, and an arm seized Monte-Leone's hand. He looked around and saw the Duke D'Harcourt.
"Count," said he, "one person alone can restore you the honor of which you have been so rudely deprived. That person is the Duke D'Harcourt."