soon as the effect of the powder has subsided, there remains in the heart only an invincible rancour against the object so lately beloved.”
Ulric, after a moment’s reflection, replied: “Revenge is sweet, but sweeter still the love which attaches me to the unkind Lucretia. Deeply as I feel the wrongs she has done me, I cannot hate her. I will fly far from her, forgiving her the misery she has occasioned me, and bearing her image in my heart till I die.”
“Every country has its different notions,” said the Signora; “an Italian would never forgive such indignity as that you have endured. However, as you take this more generous course, and I am very far from reproaching you for doing so, why not retrace your steps, and once more throw yourself at the feet of your mistress; obdurate as she seems, she may relent. You may, peradventure, find this better than the perilous and unprofitable journey you contemplate.”
The Count liked this advice, though he felt ashamed so suddenly to abandon the resolution he had adopted, and ere he could collect his thoughts for a reply, the Signora had quitted him with a smile of peculiar meaning.
A few mornings after, Ulric, while walking with his hostess and her fair friends, announced his intention to take his leave of them the next day, and this time she made no objection to his going. In the
