You did well to stipulate for my confidence before you demanded that question.' 'I must beg you will be more explicit, sir; what was that subject ?' 'What could it be, but the noble offer of Count Morano,' said Montoni.
'Then, sir, we entirely misunderstood each other,' replied Emily.
'We entirely misunderstood each other too, I suppose,' rejoined Montoni, 'in the conversation which preceded the writing of that note?
I must do you the justice to own, that you are very ingenious at this same art of misunderstanding.' Emily tried to restrain the tears that came to her eyes, and to answer with becoming firmness.

'Allow me, sir, to explain myself fully, or to be wholly silent.' 'The explanation may now be dispensed with; it is anticipated.

If Count Morano still thinks one necessary, I will give him an honest one--You have changed your intention since our last conversation; and, if he can have patience and humility enough to wait till to-morrow, he will probably find it changed again: but as I have neither the patience or the humility, which you expect from a lover, I warn you of the effect of my displeasure!' 'Montoni, you are too precipitate,' said the Count, who had listened to this conversation in extreme agitation and impatience;--'Signora, I entreat your own explanation of this affair!' 'Signor Montoni has said justly,' replied Emily, 'that all explanation may now be dispensed with; after what has passed I cannot suffer myself to give one.

It is sufficient for me, and for you, sir, that I repeat my late declaration; let me hope this is the last time it will be necessary for me to repeat it--I never can accept the honour of your alliance.' 'Charming Emily!' exclaimed the Count in an impassioned tone, 'let not resentment make you unjust; let me not suffer for the offence of Montoni!--Revoke--' 'Offence!' interrupted Montoni--'Count, this language is ridiculous, this submission is childish!--speak as becomes a man, not as the slave of a pretty tyrant.' 'You distract me, Signor; suffer me to plead my own cause; you have already proved insufficient to it.' 'All conversation on this subject, sir,' said Emily, 'is worse than useless, since it can bring only pain to each of us: if you would oblige me, pursue it no farther.' 'It is impossible, Madam, that I can thus easily resign the object of a passion, which is the delight and torment of my life .-- I must still love--still pursue you with unremitting ardour;--when you shall be convinced of the strength and constancy of my passion, your heart must soften into pity and repentance.' 'Is this generous, sir?
is this manly?
can it either deserve or obtain the esteem you solicit, thus to continue a persecution from which I have no present means of escaping ?' A gleam of moonlight that fell upon Morano's countenance, revealed the strong emotions of his soul; and, glancing on Montoni discovered the dark resentment, which contrasted his features.
'By heaven this is too much!' suddenly exclaimed the Count; 'Signor Montoni, you treat me ill; it is from you that I shall look for explanation.' 'From me, sir! you shall have it;' muttered Montoni, 'if your discernment is indeed so far obscured by passion, as to make explanation necessary.

And for you, Madam, you should learn, that a man of honour is not to be trifled with, though you may, perhaps, with impunity, treat a BOY like a puppet.' This sarcasm roused the pride of Morano, and the resentment which he had felt at the indifference of Emily, being lost in indignation of the insolence of Montoni, he determined to mortify him, by defending her.
'This also,' said he, replying to Montoni's last words, 'this also, shall not pass unnoticed.