“‘His head sank upon his bosom as he concluded, and he once more relapsed into his abstracted musing. I made no observation regarding the singular forgetfulness of which he had been guilty, nor of the want of attention on the part of the V—— family, in not inviting me themselves to the villa, but seized with avidity upon the opportunity thus afforded of penetrating the secret of my brother’s altered demeanour. I already knew Count Hercules, a studious and pious youth, who was considered a pattern for the whole country. I had also frequently seen the Abbé Giordoni, the preceptor, towards whom I felt an instinctive aversion, although railed at by my friends for my too great facility, in “taking dislikes;” but there yet remained one member of the V—— family whom I had not yet beheld, and a sudden conviction seized my mind, that she was the cause of my brother’s misery, and that it was her name at which he had hesitated in his speech to me. I was therefore determined to watch every look, to listen to every word, which should pass between the pair, and to base my counsels to my brother upon what I should observe. “‘At the hour appointed, we set forth to pay our evening visit at the villa. The gloom and pre-occupation of my brother increased as we drew near to our destination, and I began to doubt if such would have been the bearing of an impassioned expectant lover. “‘We entered the great saloon unannounced. Cesario was free and intimate as a _fils de la maison_. The room was large, and dimly lighted by the shaded lamp upon the mantelpiece. The old count was buried in a slumber in his large arm-chair, and his grey head stood out from the fauteuil, calm and peaceful, the very emblem of contented and respectable old age. Not so was the expression of the individual who was seated near, and upon whom the light of the lamp fell, as if on purpose to light up the shadow which was passing at the very moment over his countenance—a very gleam of hell! It was the Abbé Giordoni, who was seated at the small table, ostensibly playing chess with the young Count Hercules—that is to say, the chess-board was placed between them, and the chess-men stood upright upon the board; but I instantly perceived that not one single piece had been disturbed from its primitive position, and it was evident that their occupation was of far more import, for the young man sat pale and trembling before the abbé, whose infuriated countenance and vehement gesture plainly bespoke the violence of the discussion in which he had been engaged, although I could not judge of its nature, from the low tone in which it had been carried on, doubtless through fear of disturbing the poor old count, who slumbered on, little dreaming of the storm of hate and passion which had been conjured up close at his very ear.