'Lady,' said Montoni, as a shade of sadness passed over his fine features--'you have mentioned your husband, and the recollection that you _have_ a husband forbids that I should take advantage of your preference for me. God forbid that I should be the cause of a wife's infidelity! Pardon me, lady--you are very beautiful; the Almighty never created so fair a sanctuary to become the dwelling place of sin; be advised, therefore, to suppress this guilty passion, and remain faithful to your husband, who, old though he be, has claims upon your constancy.' 'I long for the declarations of a lover, not the reasonings of a philosopher,' cried Julia passionately.--'Thou man of ice, nothing can melt you?' 'Remember your duty to your husband,' said Montoni, gravely, as he arose to depart. 'I will see you to-morrow evening--adieu.' He left her to her reflections.--Wild, tumultuous thoughts arose in her mind; and from the chaos of her bewildered brain, came a Hideous Whisper, prompting her to a bloody crime. She thought of her husband as an obstacle to her happiness with Montoni; and she began to hate the old man with the malignity of a fiend. 'Curses on the old dotard!' she cried, in a paroxysm of rage--'were it not for _him_, I might revel in the arms of my handsome Italian, whose unaccountable scruples will not permit him to enjoy the bliss of love with me, while I have a husband.--Were that husband DEAD--' Then, like a Mighty Shadow, came that dark thought over her soul. Myriads of beautiful demons, all bearing the semblance of Montoni, seemed to gather around her, and urge her to perpetrate a deed of--_murder_! But then a fair vision spread itself before her wandering fancy. There was her girlhood's home--far, far away in a green, flowery spot, where she had dwelt ere her life had been cast amid the follies and vices of cities. Then she thought of her mother--that gentle mother, whose heart she had broken, and who was sleeping in the old church-yard of her native village.--A tear dim'd her brilliant eye as these better feelings of her nature gained a temporary ascendancy: but she dashed her tear away, and suppressed the emotions of her heart, when the image of the fascinating Italian arose before her. 'He must be mine! I swear it by everything in heaven, earth or hell--he must be mine! Yes, though I stain my soul with the blackest crime--though remorse and misery be my lot on earth--though eternal torment be my portion in the world to come--he must and shall be mine! Aid me, ye powers of hell, in this my scheme--make my heart bold, my hand firm, my brain calm; for the deed is full of horror, and the thought of it chills my blood; I shudder and turn sick and dizzy--yet, for thy sake, Montoni, I WILL DO IT!'