"And yet," continued the old man, "you don't altogether understand it. You entice the birds in a masterly way, but you forget to pluck them, which yet is the principal part of the business. With the exception of the easy fool of a Spaniard, your love-affairs have brought you in marvellously little. The handsome pagan courtesans of the old time were much wiser. Though you may not exactly wish to build pyramids of the oblations of your adorers, yet a comfortable house for a refuge to your old age is in truth not to be despised." "I hope never to be old to need it," said Bona hastily. "But don't reckon without your host," rejoined the gardener. "The quantum of wealth from the new world, left you by Don Alonzo, has melted away confoundedly in the old world, as must naturally be the case with your passion for appearing as a rich heiress. If this is to last long, you will be forced to sell the rich jewels with which you blind the eyes of people. What then is to become of you if you do not betimes think of some new acquisition?" "He who follows _much_ at once," replied Bona, "attains _nothing_. I follow _one_ object only, but that one I follow so stedfastly, with such inflexible purpose, that I _must_ gain it, and when I have gained it, I need nothing more in this world." "And this _one_?" asked the gardener with sly importunity. "I pay you as my servant, not as my confessor," replied Bona with angry pride, and pointed to the door. "Good troth, a princess has been spoiled in you," muttered the old man; "but there is no helping one who will not be advised." So saying he went. Bona laid her hand upon her forehead, and looked down gloomily in earnest meditation. "The poison of Althea's refusal is still rankling in this Christopher," she said, after a long pause, "and the brothers are not friends. If the one were to perish through the other, that might at last reach the stony heart of Erasmus, and, conquered or conquer, still my victims would fall. The vindictive spirit of his adversaries is my pledge for that. Francis, think of your reckoning on the other side. The avenger of blood is already breathing within these walls." She went up to a great mirror between the windows to arrange her hair. The sun, veiled in mist, cast a red light through the panes, and shone in wondrous way upon the fair and angry features, so that they seemed to glow with an inward fire. At the first look in the glass Bona started back in horror. "Are the old tales of my childhood coming back upon me?" she exclaimed with fixed gaze. "It was, indeed, as if an evil spirit grinned at me from the mirror." But by degrees she came to her recollection, and began to chide her folly with a laugh, though her lips were still quivering--"Fool, it was yourself. Revenge never beautifies a female face; that I might have well known."