CHAPTER II.
O You! whom Vanity's light bark conveys On Fame's mad voyage by the wind of praise, With what a shifting gale your course you ply, For ever sunk too low, or borne too high! Who pants for glory finds but short repose, A breath revives him, and a breath o'er-throws.
Pope.
Here the Marquis concluded his adventures.

Lorenzo, before He could determine on his reply, past some moments in reflection.

At length He broke silence.
'Raymond,' said He taking his hand, 'strict honour would oblige me to wash off in your blood the stain thrown upon my family; But the circumstances of your case forbid me to consider you as an Enemy.

The temptation was too great to be resisted.

'Tis the superstition of my Relations which has occasioned these misfortunes, and they are more the Offenders than yourself and Agnes.