Camillia was seated with her hands lying idle in her lap, her eyes fixed vacantly upon the river, shining through the open window. "You are sad, Camillia?" repeated Pauline. Camillia aroused herself as if with an effort. "Can I be otherwise," she said, "when I think of him? When I remember that he is away--I know not where--his name branded with disgrace, a wanderer and an outcast." "Silly child! Have I not already told you that the day which crowns my ambition shall also crown your love?" "Ah, Pauline! If I could but believe you!" sighed Camillia. "And can you not believe me? Do I look like one who has no will to accomplish her wish? Look in my face, and see if there is one line that tells of weakness there." Camillia raised her eyes to the face of her late governess with an earnest and wondering gaze. Youthful as was that countenance, delicate as were the features and complexion, brilliant though the azure of the eyes, there was a look of decision, a glance of determination rarely seen in the faces of strong men. There was a power for good or evil--terrible, incalculable, if employed for the latter--the power of a great intellect and an unyielding will. "Pauline!" exclaimed Camillia, "You are an enigma." "Not so," answered the governess, her clear blue eyes dilating, her lip quivering with suppressed emotion. "Not so, Camillia; I am an injured woman." "Injured!" "Yes. You, whose life has been smooth as yonder river, sleeping beneath the sunshine that gilds its breast--you have never known what it is to writhe beneath a sense of injury--to feel that your whole existence has been blighted by the crimes of others. There are wrongs that can transform an angel to a fiend; so do not wonder when you see me cold, heartless, ambitious, designing. My nature was poisoned by the events of my youth. I said that I would one day tell you my story. Shall I tell it you now?" "Yes, Pauline, yes; if it is not painful to you." "It is painful; but I feel a savage pleasure in the pain. I gnash my teeth at the remembrance of the old and bitter wrongs; but I love to recall them, for the thought of them makes me strong. Have you ever wondered at my past history, Camillia?" "Never." "I was born beneath a princely roof, cradled in the luxury of a palace; the man I called my father was a duke--the woman, whose gorgeous beauty smiled upon my infancy, was a duchess!" "They were your parents?" exclaimed Camillia. "I was taught to think so. They were of the Italian race, and sprang from one of the most powerful families of the South--a family whose pride had become a proverb throughout Italy.