This was the man I had loved--this fellow who told coarse stories only worthy of a common pot-house, and who reveled in a wit of a high and questionable flavor; this conceited, empty-headed, muscular piece of humanity was the same being for whom I had cherished so chivalrous and loyal a tenderness! Our conversation was broken in upon at last by the sound of approaching wheels.

A carriage was heard ascending the road--it came nearer--it stopped at the door.

I set down the glass of wine I had just raised to my lips, and looked at Ferrari steadily.
"You expect other visitors ?" I inquired.
He seemed embarrassed, smiled, and hesitated.
"Well--I am not sure--but--" The bell rang.

With a word of apology Ferrari hurried away to answer it.

I sprung from my chair--I knew--I felt who was coming.