of my life, seemed to me most generous and most appropriate to my situation. I would not have listened to words of consolation, I could not have endured reproaches, I should not have put faith in marks of esteem. Silent affection and unobtrusive compassion made more impression on me. That dismal face, which moved noiselessly about me like a ghost, like a reminder of the past, was the only face that neither disturbed nor terrified me. Sometimes I took her dry hands and held them to my lips for several minutes, without giving vent to a sigh. She never replied to that caress, but stood patiently, and did not withdraw her hands from my kisses; that was much. I no longer thought of Leoni except as a ghastly memory which I sought with all my strength to banish. The thought of returning to him made me shudder as the sight of an execution would have done. I had not energy enough remaining to love him or hate him. He did not write to me and I was hardly aware of it, I had counted so little on his letters. One day there came one which told me of new disasters. A will of the Princess Zagarolo had been found, bearing a later date than ours. One of her servants, in whom she had confidence, had had the will in his custody ever since the day of its date. She had made it at the time that Leoni had neglected her to take care of me, and she was doubtful as to our relationship. Afterward, when she became reconciled to us, she had intended to destroy it; but, as she was subject to innumerable whims, she had kept both wills, so that she might at any time decide which she would leave in force. Leoni knew where his was kept; but the existence of the other was known only to Vincenzo, the princess's man of confidence; and he was under instructions to burn it at a sign from her. She did not anticipate, poor creature, such a sudden and violent death. Vincenzo, whom Leoni had laden with benefactions, and who was altogether devoted to him at that time, having moreover no knowledge of the princess's final intentions, kept the will without saying a word, and allowed us to produce ours. He might have enriched himself by threatening us or selling his secret to the heirs-at-law; but he was not a dishonest man nor a wicked one. He allowed us to enjoy the inheritance, demanding no higher wages than he had previously received. But, when I had left Leoni, he became dissatisfied; for Leoni was brutal with his servants, and I retained them in his service only by my indulgence. One day Leoni forgot himself so far as to strike the old man, who at once pulled the will from his pocket and told him that he was going to take it to the princess's cousins. Threats, entreaties, offers of money, all were powerless to appease his anger. The marquis appeared on the scene and attempted to obtain possession of the fatal paper by force; but Vincenzo, who was a remarkably powerful man for his years, knocked him down, struck him, threatened to throw Leoni through