were seated at table with the lovers;—they recollected their own early life, and did not attempt to stop these romantic effusions, which at last were carried so far, that the young people both wounded themselves in the left arm, and mingled their blood in a glass of white champaigne. ‘Inseparable as these red drops have now become, shall our souls and our fates be for ever!’ cried Felippo. He drank half the wine and gave the rest to Clara, who pledged him without hesitation.
“When I had arrived at this part of my story, the Duke became remarkably restless, from time to time casting on me most threatening looks; so that I could not help concluding, he had, in his own life, been the hero of a scene resembling that which I had described. However, it is most certain that I had merely repeated the circumstances of Clara and Felippo’s separation, from a letter that I had read from the girl’s mother at Leghorn, of which I shall say more afterwards.
“Recollecting these vehement protestations of the most ardent and unchangeable passion, (I continued,) who could have thought it possible that Felippo would conduct himself in the manner that he did soon afterwards? On his return
