Whither?
Ah, you look away; you falter,--you cannot meet my eyes! Speak! I implore, I command thee, speak!" "Enfant! And what dost thou fear ?" "FEAR!--yes, alas, I fear!" said the Italian; and her whole frame seemed to shrink into itself as she fell once more back into her seat.
Then, after a pause, she tossed the long hair from her eyes, and, starting up abruptly, paced the room with disordered strides.

At length she stopped opposite to Nicot, laid her hand on his arm, drew him towards an escritoire, which she unlocked, and, opening a well, pointed to the gold that lay within, and said, "Thou art poor,--thou lovest money; take what thou wilt, but undeceive me.

Who is this woman whom thy friend visits,--and does he love her ?" Nicot's eyes sparkled, and his hands opened and clenched, and clenched and opened, as he gazed upon the coins.

But reluctantly resisting the impulse, he said, with an affected bitterness, "Thinkest thou to bribe me ?--if so, it cannot be with gold.

But what if he does love a rival; what if he betrays thee; what if, wearied by thy jealousies, he designs in his flight to leave thee behind,--would such knowledge make thee happier ?" "Yes!" exclaimed the Italian, fiercely; "yes, for it would be happiness to hate and to be avenged! Oh, thou knowest not how sweet is hatred to those who have really loved!" "But wilt thou swear, if I reveal to thee the secret, that thou wilt not betray me,--that thou wilt not fall, as women do, into weak tears and fond reproaches, when thy betrayer returns ?" "Tears, reproaches! Revenge hides itself in smiles!" "Thou art a brave creature!" said Nicot, almost admiringly.