when once they stood on the ground which that slight gesture warned him they were on now—the ground of authority on one side, of obedience on the other.
"Leave all to me. And for the present quit Naples while you can—if you can. Go to the old quarters at Paris immediately, and there await instructions. Adieu!"
Phaulcon's eyes looked at him with a piteous entreaty; he did not speak, but the great muscles of his throat swelled and throbbed, and his nervous hands clenched; the mute appeal spoke better than any words his prayer against that merciless dismissal.
"Go, caro," said his tyrant, gently; but the gentleness was immutable and cold. "If you feel such tenderness for your fair Countess, you should not have drawn her into such dangerous paths. Make yourself easy; she can take care of herself; there are few men—and I doubt if Giulio Villaflor be one of the few—who can match the wit and the science of La Vassalis. Now, go; your presence is embarrassing, and your melons are a blunder; but you always would be so impetuous! Bon voyage; and if the Bourbonists should stop you on the way, remember—and die mute. An unpleasant and dis-
