It was now necessary that my daughter should become acquainted with part of my designs; and I summoned her. In a moment she was at my feet. “Valeria—” and as I addressed her, I endeavored to modulate my voice into tones as affectionate and as soothing as possible—“Valeria, we are very poor—God knows we are.” “Yes; but father why speak of it now? We are as well off as most people, and I am sure we need no luxuries.” “My child, you know not our poverty. You see me now a decrepid and palsied old man. I am unable to make a living; and henceforth on you I must depend.” “I shall cheerfully do what I am able, father.” “I know it my child—I know it; but your utmost exertions cannot save us from starvation, unless properly directed. Valeria, listen to me. I ask you as a father will you obey my commands?” “As long as they are bounded by reason and virtue, I shall. I have always obeyed you—I am not disobedient, I sincerely believe.” “Valeria, can you love?” “I can. I _do_ love.” “Ha! whom do you love?” “I love you, my father—and—” “Speak!” “I love Marco da Vinci—I never intended to deny it.” In a frenzy of rage and astonishment, I started to my feet, and stood for some moments like one transfixed. My lips were white; my mouth foamed; my cheek was blanched; my eye fiery and distorted; and my whole frame convulsed with passion. “God’s curse be on you!” I shrieked, shaking my clenched hand in the face of the terrified girl—“God’s curse be on you, for the declaration. _You_ _love Marco da Vinci?_ May a father’s ban fall like the flames of perdition on you! May the heart that you so foolishly bestowed, be blighted and withered in its bloom! May the avenging hosts gather round you at your death-bed; and taunt you, and riot in your agony!” “Father! Father! O, cease those horrible words! you will drive me mad!” “No,” I replied, in a stern but more softened tone, “I shall not drive you mad, Valeria; but I have news that will make you feel as if madness would be a blessing. _You are sold._ Here is the money”—and I drew forth the gold I had received from Don Ferdinand. “Yes, to-morrow you will be the mistress of Don Ferdinand Razzina.” “Never!—so help me God!” cried Valeria, in a voice so calm and determined, that I feared for the success of my schemes; “death—aye, a thousand deaths before dishonor!” “We shall see,” I replied, with a grim smile. “_We shall!_” said Valeria, retiring; and in tones so deep and ominous that I shuddered. She repeated, “_we shall!_” Hitherto I have devoted my pen almost exclusively to the narrative of my own confessions. I must now diverge a little to introduce the reader to a character, of whom nothing has yet been mentioned except his name.