“My determination,” said Marco, “can no longer be suppressed.” In a voice of the deepest agitation he proceeded: “I had hoped, Valeria, that we might part without a word of regret on either side; but your kindness and friendship toward me, render it a duty that I should make some explanations in defence of my refusal of your hospitable invitation. I must speak, whatever be the penalty. Your beauty and charms of person—your mental fascination—render it too dangerous for me to continue my visits! We must part—forever!” In a hurried and agitated manner the young painter rushed toward the door. “Stay!” cried Valeria, in whom the struggle between love and duty was for a moment so violent as to deprive her of her faculties, “Da Vinci, why must we part thus? Why are we never again to meet? I am sure it is no harm for us to enjoy the pleasure of each other’s society.” This was said in a voice of such warmth and artlessness, that, for a moment, he was unnerved in his resolution. The danger, however, was too great; and he resisted the temptation. “Valeria,” said Marco Da Vinci, endeavoring to answer calmly, “I am an outcast—a beggar!” “But I do not think less of you for that!” cried Valeria, passionately. “Hear me!” cried Da Vinci, in a hurried and choaking voice, “you know me not! I have dared—I still dare—to love you!” Valeria might have suspected, and probably did suspect, that this declaration was inevitable; but there is a great deal of deceit in the female heart; and she evinced much astonishment at the words of her lover. She endeavored to frown—to look serious—to speak of _my_ authority—but love was the conqueror! That resource which woman is ever prone to make use of, was at hand; and Valeria wept. Her beauty had always been a subject of dangerous interest to Marco Da Vinci: it was now heightened in his mind by the consciousness that she loved him. No longer able to control those feelings, which from the moment of their meeting, had taken possession of Da Vinci’s heart, the enthusiastic lover sprang forward and clasped Valeria to his bosom. He pressed her lips to his own, and imprinted on them the burning kiss of first-love. At this critical moment I entered. Unable to believe my senses, I stood gasping for breath, and transfixed with doubt and astonishment. Convinced at length that I was not deceived, I sprang forward to wreak my vengeance on the villain who had so basely abused my confidence.