Aminta heard every word. Every detail of the Count's daring, every change of character in this judicial drama, awakened an inexplicable emotion in her. It seemed that Count Monte-Leone, to whose singular story she had listened, was a far different man from the one she had imagined him to be. His powerful mind, his exalted soul, all the powers of which had been developed by the trial, conferred on Monte-Leone new proportions hitherto not realized by her. Count Monte-Leone, whom she had seen at home, almost timid in the presence of her he adored, annoyed by his false position as a refugee, suffering from a passion he dared not own, was not the person of whom she had heard for the past month. Looking down on her drawing, which her increasing absence of mind made almost invisible to her, Aminta sought to recall the features of the Count which had been nearly effaced from her memory. Gradually, however, they arose before her. Had her mother then spoken, had her glances been diverted from the album on which they were fixed, a strange trouble and confusion would have been visible, when aroused from this meditation. The sound of wheels entering the court yard of the villa broke the charm which entranced Aminta, and made Signora Rovero utter a cry of joy. "It is he," cried she. "It is he who returns, my son Taddeo. Daughter, let us hurry to meet him. Let us be the first to embrace him." Accompanied by Maulear, the two ladies hurried into the vestibule, which they crossed, standing at the villa-door just as the carriage stopped. A man left it and bowed respectfully to Signora Rovero and her daughter. This man was MONTE-LEONE. IV.--TWO RIVALS.