He looked troubled; he fingered the tablecloth before he spoke. I encouraged him to open me his mind. "Well, Don Francis," said he, most uncomfortably, "the task you put upon me then was very easy but for the one little circumstance that Virginia was not there. But this present is of enormous difficulty." "Why so, my dear?" I asked him. "For the one little circumstance that Virginia IS here," said he; and then, seeing my bewilderment, he added, "You don't know the Tuscans of her class as well as I do, that's certain. You know them as children, as warm-hearted, passionate simpletons; but you have yet to learn how tender they are of their reputation, and how quick to feel a touch. I have never seen your Virginia, but I'll warrant her as proud as fire. I believe that she would rather die than occupy that damask-hung bed, even with your honour for mate. And supposing she consented to that, do you not guess what would be the first thing she would do? It would be to scratch the eyes out of that Donna di Camera you have given her. And she would do that, mind you, in self-defence, for the Donna di Camera (who is probably a little above her in degree) would certainly do the same for Virginia." I own to having been somewhat put about. "My dear Belviso," I said, "Virginia is liable to impulse, it may be admitted; but she is never likely to forget what wifely duty involves. I was not a cruel husband to her, and left her through no fault of my own. I will answer for her that she will be a good wife." "A good wife--for Francesco the carpenter," said Belviso. "Yes, it may be so, though I own that her marriage puzzles me. But wife to Don Francesco--nobile Inglese--never in the world!" I said, "Belviso, I never asked you to be my servant, as you very well know. The proposal came from you against my will. But if my servant you are, I will make free to remind you that I have given you an order, and shall be obliged if you will set about performing it." The good lad dropped on one knee, took my hand and kissed it, and turned to obey me without a word. Ashamed of myself, I patted him on the shoulder in token of forgiveness, and saw the tears spring into his eyes. Before he could reach the door, Fra Palamone had filled up the entry, panting, holding out a note. "For the Excellency of Don Francesco," says he, "just delivered at the door by a young female." I took it from him; it was in the hand of Virginia, the hand I myself had guided, the good and docile hand which had formed itself on mine. I read--O Heaven, can I say so? The words, like knives at work, cut themselves deep into the fibres of my heart. Virginia wrote: "MOST EXCELLENT DON FRANCIS,--