It afforded me much gratification to anticipate the wrath and indignation Ruzzina should evince on reading this. To gloat over the dark traits of men’s characters, has ever been my choicest amusement; and I well knew that he would either make a desperate attempt to retrieve his imprudence by recovering the money, or desist altogether and keep silent to avoid the shafts of satire and ridicule. I suffered much uneasiness, and had much to fear on account of the ardent and fiery temperament of Valeria. The passion she had betrayed for Marco Da Vinci was no childish fancy; but a deep-rooted, irrevocable love, which nothing could eradicate or assuage. Her pure Italian blood permitted no medium between passion and indifference. She loved him once, and was destined to love, or hate him forever after. Of this I quickly had a most satisfactory proof. Enraged one day at the obstinate manner in which she rejected the advances of every suitor I thought proper to introduce into my house, I bitterly reproached her for her disobedience; and in the excess of my anger, struck her a violent blow. Her proud spirit was instantly up. “Father,” said she, “you have struck me for the first, and for the last time. In defiance of your cruel and unnatural machinations for the disposal of my honor, you shall never reproach me with their success. I have hitherto mildly resisted your iniquitous designs; and I now boldly put myself out of your power. This roof shall never more shelter your daughter!” In scarcely any gradation of human depravity is man totally callous to the qualms of conscience. I have before remarked that I anticipated with joy the hour of death; but this was merely a fiendish delirium, wrought by the recollection of past iniquities: a kind of bravo, which, in the hour of cool contemplation, would be regarded with fear and horror. I confess I was much staggered at the justice of Valeria’s reproaches, and the firmness and dignity of her demeanor. Whatever might have been the nature of my former conduct toward her, I _did_ feel, at that moment, a sense of my baseness. Her fine, expressive eyes were eloquent with determination; and her beautiful figure, as she glided steadily from my presence, seemed to acquire a queenliness from passion and indignation. She spoke no more; and I was too relentless to excuse myself, or break the silence. I had pride—ay, the pride of a demon. I would not humble it by confessing my cruelty, or soliciting her forgiveness. Thus originated a disunion, which was soon destined to lead to the most tragical effects. I follow, for a moment, the fortunes of Valeria.