"I discovered their passion at last: but I could blame neither; having long anticipated and dreaded it as an evil not to be averted. I could not leave the poor French lad to perish on the mountains, and to none save my daughter, in these times of peril, could I with safety and honour to myself have imparted the secret of his escape and existence. Yet I could not restrain a stern reproof. "’By Heaven, Signor Phillipe,’ said I, ’you have not acted well in smiting the hand that spared your life on the battle-field, and has since fostered you so tenderly: by indulging in this passion, which with you is fleeting—thought of but for a moment—you have stung the heart that warmly cherished and saved you from the just vengeance of our incensed people. In so doing, I have placed in imminent jeopardy my life, my honour, and the high reputation of my family for patriotism and loyalty; and this is my reward: you gain the love of my daughter, on whom you can never bestow your hand—the difference of clime, of manners, and above all your political position, forbid it, and raise up a mighty barrier between you. I honour you as a brave youth, but of an accursed nation; I wish you well, and shall ever do so—yet in the name of Madonna, recover your health and rejoin your father’s army.’ "’And wherefore, my dear Monsieur Gismondo, is the barrier so insuperable?’ said he, starting from the sofa on which he reclined, and taking my hand in one of his; whilst the other held that of Luisa, who hid her blushing face, as she hides it now, behind her silken tresses.—’Better times—Oh, yes! better and happier times are in store for both France and Italy; on whose united throne now sits our Emperor, crowned by the hand of Ruffo, raised by the valour of his soldiers, and blessed by the favour of God.’ "’To the young all things seem possible,’ said I, coldly: ’to me, whose heart is seared, whose beard is gray, whose head the hand of time has bared, the future can never be so bright as the past. Believe me, Phillipe, I esteem you highly, and know none on whom I would more willingly bestow this fair bud—the last of my race!—than on thee.’ "Perhaps this was too honest? an avowal—too great a concession; but, ere I could retract it, Phillipe exclaimed:— "’Oh! joy, my dear major; you know not how happy you make me—us—ah! let me say us,’ he added, drawing Luisa towards him. ’Promise me, good Monsieur Gismondo, that when peace comes: as come it soon must, when we have tossed all the enemies of Joseph into the sea at Scylla, and when France and Italy have become one—and one they shall be; for the Emperor has so willed it—promise me that mademoiselle shall be mine. Oh! good sir, complete the joy of this hour by giving a promise, which I know you will rather die than break.’