"Some one overheard us," said Gaetano, "Go, go." Aminta immediately disappeared. Before Gaetano had time to distinguish Maulear in his place of concealment, the latter, become aware of the ridiculous part he was playing, hid himself in the thicket, and with his hair dishevelled, his features distorted, and his heart distressed, hurried to the house and shut himself up in his own room. His despair was indeed great; he fancied he had been laughed at by a coquette, while he thought he had been the suitor of an innocent girl. Why did she not tell me the truth yesterday, when I asked her? said he. Why did she not avow her love of young Brignoli? She dared not confide it to me; because she makes a mystery of it to her own mother. Why did she encourage me? Why did she speak of hope? What unworthy plan, what improper calculation influenced her? What part did she intend me to play in this drama of treason? The old idea of Maulear--that sad fancy that women are only to be despised, and which he had conceived from women only worthy of that estimate--took possession of him. He could not believe he was a victim of mistake, or that the scene he had witnessed had any other motives than guilty ones. Of what else could Gaetano and Aminta speak, than love? An hour afterwards, Maulear returned to the drawing-room. His toilette was irreproachable, and his face, though pale, was calm. One would never have recognized in this elegant gentleman, so calm and dignified, the person who, an hour before, had heard with such excitement the conversation we have just described. Maulear had reflected, and as soon as his first anger had passed away, had nearly conceived an aversion for the young girl, whom he had almost adored the evening before. Revenge, too, would be sweet. To accomplish this, calmness, coldness, deliberation were required. The excitement of the evening prevented the absence of the actors in this scene from having been remarked; besides it was a ball for young people, at which men of Maulear's age even were not expected to dance. Gaetano, who was only eighteen, was the true Coryphoeus. Maulear approached Aminta in the interval between two waltzes. "You have a pleasant anniversary of your birthday," said he. "A delicious one, Signor, I was never so happy." At any other time the answer of Aminta would have delighted Maulear; now he fancied she alluded to her love for Gaetano. This idea increased his anger. Midnight came, and those of the guests who lived at a distance remained at the villa: the others left. All soon became calm, and the house quiet. One man alone watched, for his bosom was irritated by the most exciting thoughts; by anger, despair, and jealousy. He was awake, and wept bitterly over a passion, which it is true had existed but a few days, but yet had taken deep root in his heart.