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��THE GRANITE MONTHLY.
��He went first, with a single domes- tic, to his villa, for it was there, in the rustic cottage, where they had passed their first delicious days of love, that Lucrecia was to arrive that evening.
At three o'clock Tosinghi found the Countess Palandra dressed and ready to get into her carriage. She held out her hand to him and led him to a seat.
" Are you still my friend?"
" Have I changed since I devoted my heart and my life to you ?"
She gave him the letter which she had received and added :
" The Count Palandra has been pardoned. This is the letter which announces it. It says he will leave Vienna and arrive at San Michele Mu- rana on the ioth of November. This is the 15th. The Count has left the prison, thanks to the pardon. He will take a carriage from Padua to Boulogne, and the stage from Boulogne to Flor- ence. In three days he will be here."
Tosinghi trembled and would not reply to this terrible announcement. He knew that these simple words were the prologue to an inevitable catastro- phe. He knew the Count and he knew Lucrecia. Pale, with his eyes fixed upon those of the Countess, he waited : and as the silence continued he murmured in a trembling voice, " Well."
" I do not desire my husband," re- plied Lucrecia, with an expression which frightened Tosinghi still more, •' to arrive here without knowing all. That would be a double treason. I count upon your friendslvp, upon this devotion which you have so often of- fered me. and I have dared to ask it. You must go to Florence and to Bou- logne, if there is yet time, and — "
•' What ! you want me to go to Bou- logne to tell Palandra of his misfor- tune?"
" You will have nothing to tell him. Here is a letter which you will give him. Only, when he has read it be near to offer him a friendly hand, and do what he requires."
Her voice trembled and faltered.
Tosinghi took the letter, and mechan-
cally read the inscription, examined
��the < oat-of-arms, and returned it with a vague feeling of terror.
" Put," said he, "what do you in- tend to do?"
" What I ought."
" Lucrecia !"
'*' Have I presumed too much upon your strength and friendship?" added the Countess. " No," replied Tosinghi, " I will do it. I believe it is necessary to leave at once, is it not?"
" Immediately, if you can."
"Adieu, then, Lucrecia."
" Adieu," she replied, in a sad voice.
She gave him her hand again, and he seized it and pressed a passionate kiss upon it, and two great tears, which he could not hide, rolled down his wan cheeks.
Two hours later the Countess Palan- dra was with her lover, and took sup- per with him under the arbor, with its reddened leaves.
She had thrown off her traveling dress, unbound her hair, and folded over her shoulders a lace shawl. She ate a pomegranate, sipped a glass of wine, and pelted Marcel with purple grapes, laughing with wild, fresh laugh- ter. At times she would run to her lover, throw her beautiful arms around his neck, and look at him with eyes filled with ineffable tenderness.
Night came on, and a large antique lamp was placed upon the table, Lu- crecia drew a long gold pin from her hair, and called for oil to fill the lamp full. " I want it to burn for a long time," she said, " to give light to the happiest of nights." Then suddenly she blew it out.
" What !" she cried, "shall we measure the hours by seeing them fade away ! No ! no ! let it be night, let the moon and stars hide themselves, and we will dream of eternity."
The next day she carried Marcel to every place to which any pleasant memory was attached ; to her own villa ; to the terraces ; under the olive trees, and then farther away into the country to look once more at the grot- to and the village inn. They went also to the tomb of Guiseppe and re-
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