CHAPTER XVIII.
A BITTER PARTING.
With a somewhat less burdened mind, Cesarine was still pondering when she saw Antonino, who had opened the door but perceived her, about to withdraw without notifying her of his presence.

It was the act of a devotee who feared to pray in the chapel, when the priestess stood by the saint's image.
"Do not go," she exclaimed with vehemence.

"Come here after closing the door tightly, for I want you to enter into a little plot with me." She had regained her smiling visage and her sweet voice.
"Would you do it ?" "It depends upon who the object is," he said tremulously.
"It is against my husband," she replied with her smile more bright and her tone more merry.
"I forewarn you, madame, that I should turn informer," he answered in the same light key, but forced.
"That would be very bad for him for I am conspiring for his benefit." "In that case, madame, I am entirely your man." "Are you able to keep a secret ?" she asked with gravity.
"I think so." They had withdrawn into the window recess, and could see the gardens, as they conversed.

The light fell on her through the Valenciennes curtain and at her back was a sombre tapestry.

Her late trial gave her an exhausted air which seemed the additional gloss with which melancholy makes a woman more fascinating in the sentimental eyes of youth.
"I dare say you can keep your own," she pointedly said.
"Not so well, I fear, as another's." "You must give me your word of honor that if my plot does not please you, nobody shall be told ?" "I give you my promise," he said freely, just as he would have given her anything she asked for.
He had debated with his passion, uttered every reason of others and all he could devise, overwhelmed himself with good advice and created a Chinese Wall of obstacles, but he heard himself murmuring: "I love her!" The only way, he feared, to put an end to his wicked craze was to put an end to his life--an irreputable argument, but to be used moderately.