Saints of Heaven! what a meeting--what a return! Pale, haggard, thine hands and garments dripping blood, thine eyes blazing with insane fire, a terrible smile of mockery on thy lip, thou stoodst before me.

I would have thrown myself on thy breast; thou didst cast me from thee; I fell on my knees, and thy blade was pointed at my heart--the heart so full of thee! 'He is dead,' didst thou say, in a hollow voice; 'he is dead--thy paramour--take thy bed beside him!' I know not what I said, but it seemed to move thee; thy hand trembled, and the point of thy weapon dropped.

It was then that, hearing thy voice, Leonarda hastened into the room, and bore in her arms thy child.
'See,' I exclaimed, 'see thy daughter; see, she stretches her hands to thee--she pleads for her mother!' At that sight thy brow became dark, the demon seized upon thee again.

'Mine!' were thy cruel words--they ring in my ear still--'no! she was born before the time--ha! ha!--thou didst betray me from the first!' With that thou didst raise thy sword; but, even then (ah, blessed thought! even then) remorse and love palsied thy hand, and averted thy gaze: the blow was not that of death.

I fell senseless to the ground, and when I recovered thou wert gone.