"One day, finding me alone, he made me a declaration of love, considering as a merit in my eyes the ability with which he had deceived my aunt, and taken off from me the gaze of the world by appearing smitten with her, and for this enormous sacrifice he considered I should admire and feel kindly disposed towards him." "And was your aunt informed of this avowal of Charles de Brévannes?" "That very evening she was told all." "Then he was unmasked?" "Child, you do not comprehend the weakness and vanity of women!" "What!--she would not believe you?" "Yes, at first; and that same evening our door was closed against M. de Brévannes. He guessed the fact, and wrote a long letter to my aunt. The very next day he was received even more kindly than usual. When she left me, my aunt came and scolded me severely. Jealous, as she declared, of M. de Brévannes' love for her, I had calumniated him in order to have him excluded from the house." "Unhappy woman! she was mad!" "Matters resumed their usual course. Charles de Brévannes did not utter one other word of love to me, but he passed whole days with us. On the 13th of April--ah! I shall never forget that date--my aunt said to me after breakfast, that the noise of the court-yard of the hôtel disturbed her so much, that she would, from that evening, change apartments with me. My room looked into the street, and had a balcony. What I have to add is fearful. That day we had been out for a long drive in the carriage, accompanied by M. de Brévannes. On our return we sat together until very late in the evening, my aunt appearing very much preoccupied. At length he retired, and I went to bed." The princess turned horribly pale, shuddered, and then continued in a broken voice:-- "The next morning I wished to go as usual to wish my aunt good morning, when Gianetta, with an embarrassed air, told me that Madame Vasari was much indisposed, and could not see me. "At the moment I was returning towards my own apartment, a stranger inquired for me, and a dark, pale man handed me a letter without uttering a syllable. I knew not why, but a tremor ran through my veins. I opened the letter--it inclosed a ring which I had given to Raphael." "And the letter, godmother,--the letter?" "Was from Raphael, who was dying." "From Raphael?" "Yes, and contained these words, which seemed to me written in characters of blood:--" "'I have been in Florence for two days. I know all. This very night I saw Brévannes descending from your balcony; after which you closed the window. I fought with him instantly, as we both agreed. I sought death, and he has given it to me. Be thou accursed! Osorio will tell you when you return to Venice. Conceal from my mother. My sight is----' "And nothing more," added Madame de Hansfeld, with agonising expression, "nothing but some shapeless letters." "What a mystery!" said Iris, clasping her hands. "Who then could have appeared at your chamber-window?"