"What mean you?" cried the princess, terrified at the triumphant look and almost fiendish determination imprinted on the features of Iris. "I mean," replied the mulatto, with savage wildness, "that my position with you is at present a wretched one, godmother, and that the dearest wish of my heart is, to see you placed in such difficulties and misfortunes that my devotion to you shall be your only source of happiness, joy, or consolation; and I say again and again, that loving you with the intense adoration I do, I would rather a thousand times see you dead than indifferent to the passionate love I feel for you, whom I idolise as mother, sister, Deity! And I tell you also, that neither Raphael nor De Morville have ever done a thousandth part as much to merit your affection as I have done; and yet they have occupied, and will continue to occupy, your every thought, whilst I--I am but as nothing in your estimation; this is cruel, godmother--more than cruel--it is unjust and ungrateful." "And how dare you presume thus to reproach one who has sheltered, protected, and loaded you with benefits? And how have you requited my constant kindness?" "Since you ask me the question, godmother, I will answer it, and that, too, on the spot and without disguise, for we must fulfil our destinies. You inquire what I have done in requital of your bounty towards me? In the first place, I caused the death of Raphael by the hand of M. Charles de Brévannes. But let me previously----" "Gracious God! do I hear aright? You--you effected the death of Raphael!--she terrifies me! Merciful heavens!" "Yes I! but you know not Raphael's real character. Twenty times, on witnessing your tears and regrets, I have been on the point of saying to you, 'You have nothing to regret, Raphael was unworthy of you but I refrained; now you shall hear my reason for thinking so." "Explain yourself, unhappy girl; what does all this mean? or is it after all nothing but a cruel jest?" "No, no; Iris jests not where you are concerned. Listen to me; you may remember having left me at Venice, but you can never form an idea of what I suffered in consequence of this separation; you either did not perceive my grief, or you took no heed of it; you were even displeased at the importunity with which I implored to be permitted to accompany you. God knows you would have acted more generously towards me had you allowed me to perish in the streets, than first to excite my gratitude and afterwards to find the manifestations of that overwhelming feeling troublesome and offensive." "The wretched creature is mad! What has your gratitude to me to do with Raphael?"