As for me--I am jealous of the ground you tread upon--of the air that touches you--I was jealous of Fabio while he lived--and--by heaven!"-- his eyes darkened with a somber wrath--"if any other man dared now to dispute your love with me I would not rest till his body had served my sword as a sheath!" Nina raised her head from his breast with an air of petulant weariness.
"Again!" she murmured, reproachfully, "you are going to be angry AGAIN!" He kissed her.
"Not I, sweet one! I will be as gentle as you wish, so long as you love me and only me.

Come--this avenue is damp and chilly for you--shall we go in ?" My wife--nay, I should say OUR wife, as we had both shared her impartial favors--assented.

With arms interlaced and walking slowly, they began to retrace their steps toward the house.

Once they paused.
"Do you hear the nightingales ?" asked Guido.
Hear them! Who could not hear them?
A shower of melody rained from the trees on every side--the pure, sweet, passionate tones pierced the ear like the repeated chime of little golden bells--the beautiful, the tender, the God-inspired birds sung their love-stories simply and with perfect rapture--love-stories untainted by hypocrisy--unsullied by crime--different, ah! so very different from the love-stones of selfish humanity! The exquisite poetic idyl of a bird's life and love--is it not a thing to put us inferior creatures to shame--for are we ever as true to our vows as the lark to his mate ?--are we as sincere in our thanksgivings for the sunlight as the merry robin who sings as blithely in the winter snow as in the flower-filled mornings of spring?
Nay--not we! Our existence is but one long impotent protest against God, combined with an insatiate desire to get the better of one another in the struggle for base coin! Nina listened--and shivered, drawing her light scarf more closely about her shoulders.
"I hate them," she said, pettishly; "their noise is enough to pierce one's ears.

And HE used to be so fond of them! he used to sing--what was it?
'Ti salute, Rosignuolo, Nel tuo duolo, il saluto! Sei l'amante delta rosa Che morendo si fa sposa!'" Her rich voice rippled out on the air, rivaling the songs of the nightingales themselves.