At length--"Oh, Monsieur!" she exclaimed in a choking voice, and clenching her shapely hands, "to think--" "I beseech you not to think, Mademoiselle," I interrupted calmly, for, having taken the first plunge, I was now master of myself.

"The ironical little god, whom the ancients painted with bandaged eyes, has led M.de Mancini by the nose in this matter, and things have gone awry for the plotters.

There, Mademoiselle, you have the reason for a clandestine union.

Did Monsieur your father guess how Andrea's affections have"-- I caught the word "miscarried" betimes, and substituted--"gone against his wishes, his opposition is not a thing to be doubted." "Are you sure there is no mistake ?" she inquired after a pause.

"Is all this really true, Monsieur ?" "It is, indeed." "But how comes it that my father has seen naught of what has been so plain to me--that M.de Mancini was ever at my sister's side ?" "Your father, Mademoiselle, is much engrossed in his vineyard.