"That like an invisible providence you would watch over his life and fate: that this would be the sacred object of your life." "I also said," Felina answered, "that my love would ever be unknown, and that the secret would die with me." "Well," said Rovero, "I know him. This man, the ardent passion of whom you divined, to whom you are come as a minister of hope, is before you, is at your feet." "How know you that I would not have done as much for each of your friends?" Taddeo felt a hot iron pass through his soul. "Hear me," said she; "time is precious. Watched, and the object everywhere of espionage, from motives of which you must ever be ignorant I have penetrated hither, by means of a bold will and efforts which were seconded by chance. I wished to satisfy myself that you were really the person I sought for, and, hidden beneath this vail, and by a yet greater concealment, that of your honor, to remain unknown, and accomplish my purpose, with your cooperation, which otherwise must fail. I was ignorant then of what I know now. I knew not your sentiments, or I would have kept my secret." "Why fear my love?" said Rovero; "think you I sell my devotion? A love which hesitates is not love. Mine will obey for the pleasure of obeying you. But let your requests be great and difficult to be fulfilled, that you may estimate me by my deeds." "You have a noble heart, Rovero, and in it I have confidence. God grant your capacity fall not below your courage. In four days you will know what I expect from you." "And will you," said he, in a voice stifled with emotion, "tell me which of the four you love?" "You will then know. To you alone will I reveal the secret." "How can I live until then!" said Rovero, with a sigh. The sound of footsteps was heard. The sentinels were being relieved. It was growing late, and while Rovero, at a motion from La Felina, went to the door to listen to what was passing, she disappeared like a shadow behind a column. Rovero looked around, and was alone. He examined the walls, attempting to discover the secret issue. No fissure was visible, there was no sign of the smallest opening, and a dumb sound only replied to the blows of Rovero on the wall. He sunk on his chair, and covered his face with his hands, that his thoughts might be distracted by no external object. A few hours afterward the Duke of Palma caused him to be informed of his pardon. The presence of La Felina had changed everything. The dark walls of the chapel appeared more splendid than those of the palaces of the Doria, Cavalcante, Carafa, or of the Pignatelli. He would not have exchanged the humid walls of his cell for the rich mosaics of the _Museo Borbonico_, the rival of that of the Vatican. The pavement had been pressed by the feet of La Felina, and Rovero yet fancied that he saw the prints of her footsteps.