"I did not think it dignified to do so. Besides, my legal protector in France, the Duke of Palma, the Neapolitan ambassador, alone can defend me. I am, too, unwilling to ask justice, even, far less a favor, from his excellency." "You are right," said the Duchess. "You would not have been successful, for at the instance of the Duke himself have you been ordered away." The reply of the Duchess was clear and precise. The Count had every reason to suspect she had participated in the affair, but wished to be sure of it. "And has not the Duchess discovered why the Duke has done so?" "Certainly," said La Felina. "The Duke has little confidence in me, not deigning to initiate me in the mysteries of diplomacy. This is not the case, though, with the secretaries. Now," said she kindly, "you must know that nothing which relates to you is uninteresting and I therefore sought to discover why such a stern course had been adopted." "Indeed." "Your Neapolitan enemies, or perhaps your _friends_, have caused this. The court of Naples had, by means of the Duke of Palma, pointed you out to that of France as maintaining communications with Italy, which endangered the peace of the country. You are accused of being engaged in a plot to control from Paris the insurrectionary movements of the two Sicilies. You may," said she, "be innocent of those crimes, but you have left terrible recollections behind you in Naples, and your name will long continue a standard of revolt and sedition." "The court of Naples," said the Count, "does me honor by believing me thus powerful and formidable. I do not see, however, the use of bringing so dangerous a person to Italy." The Duchess said, "At home, it will be able to watch you more closely than at a distance. I trust, however, we will be able to defeat their plans and keep you here." "What say you?" said the Count. "I say that I am willing to abandon many schemes, but will not be diverted from being useful to you--from defending you against your enemies--nor cease to be what I once was, a secret providence, an Ægis against danger. You know I learned this long ago, and am happy to be again able to assume the part." The Count did not know what to think, and his face expressed doubt and incredulity. "Well, well," said she bitterly, "you suspect, you doubt me, and do not think me generous enough to return good for evil. So be it; judge me by my actions rather than my words. The former will soon convince you of my devotion." "What devotion, Signora, do you speak of?" said the Count with curiosity. "Plainly speaking, of the most sublime of all devotion--of making you happy at the expense of myself. I wish to retain you here in France, where the happiness of which I speak exists, to keep you by her who loves you and by whom you are loved." "What say you?" said the Count, "would you do so?"