"Why not tell Lord Chandos all this himself, and see what he says?" asked Leone. Perfect desperation brings about perfect frankness--my lady knew that it was quite useless to conceal anything. "I have said all this and more to my son, but he will not even listen to me." A scornful smile curved those lovely lips. "He persists in going to Berlin, then?" said Leone, quietly. "Yes," replied my lady, "he persists in it." "Then why come to me? If your son persists in a certain course of action, why come to me?" "Because you can influence him. I ask you to be noble beyond the nobility of women, I ask you to be generous beyond the generosity of women, I ask you to forget the past and forbid my son to follow you to Berlin. You know the end must be a bad one--forbid it. I ask you with the warmest of prayers and of tears!" It was then that Leone rose in righteous wrath, in not indignation, in angry passion; rose and stood erect before the woman who had been her enemy. "I refuse," she said. "Years ago I went to you a simple-hearted, loving girl, and I prayed you for Heaven's sake to have mercy on me. You received me with scorn and contumely; you insulted, outraged, tortured me; you laughed at my tears, you enjoyed my humiliation. I told you then that I would have my revenge, even should I lose everything on earth to obtain that revenge. Now it lays in my hands, and I grasp it--I glory in it. Your son shall follow me, shall lose wife, home, friends, position, fair name, as I lost all years ago at your bidding. Oh, cruel and wicked woman, behold my revenge! I repay you now. Oh, God," she continued, with a passionate cry, "I thank Thee that I hold my vengeance in my hand; I will slay and spare not!" Then she stood silent for some minutes, exhausted by the passion of her own words. CHAPTER LIX. USELESS PLEADINGS. "You cannot possibly know what you are saying," said Lady Lanswell; "you must be mad." "No; I am perfectly sane; if I am mad at all it is with delight that the very desire of my heart has been given to me. Do you forget when you trampled my heart, my life, my love under your feet that day? Do you forget what I have sworn?" "I have never thought of it since," said the countess, trying to conciliate still. "Then I will remind you," said Leone. "I swore to be avenged, no matter what my vengeance cost. I swore that you should come and plead to me on your knees and I would laugh at you. I do so. I swore that you should plead to me, and I would remind you how I pleaded in vain. You wrung my heart--I will wring yours, and my only regret is that it is so hard and cold I cannot make you suffer more." "You are mad," said my lady; "quite mad." "No," said Leone, "I am sane, but mine was a mad love." "You cannot know the consequence to yourself if you persist in this conduct," said my lady, serenely.