She quietly shook her head. "From henceforth there is no more magic between us," she said, gloomily. "You had lost blood before the potion had had time to take effect; the spell is broken. And it is well, for I see that I did wrong. Let us speak no more about it, and say only that you will go. A horse will be ready and a guide for wherever you wish to go." "And if it be no longer the same magic which binds me to you, it must be some other which you know not of, Fenice. As sure as God is over us." "Silence!" she interrupted, and curled her lip scornfully. "I am deaf to any speeches you can make. If you think you owe me anything and would take pity on me--then leave me, and that will settle our account. You shall not think that this poor head of mine can learn nothing. I know now that one can buy a man no more by humble services than by seven long years of waiting, which are also, in the sight of God, a matter of no moment. You must not think that you have made me miserable--you have cured me! Go! and my thanks go with you!" "Answer me, in God's name!" he exclaimed, beside himself as he drew nearer, "have I cured you, also, of your love?" "No," she said, firmly. "Why do you ask about it? It belongs to me; you have neither power nor right over it. Go!" Thereupon she stepped back across the threshold. The next moment he had flung himself on the stones at her feet, and clasped her knees. "If what you say be true," he cried, overcome with grief, "then save me, take me to yourself, or this head of mine, saved by a miracle, will go to pieces like my heart, which you reject and spurn. My world is a void, my life a prey to hatred and revenge, my old and my new homes banish me--what is there left for me to live for if I must lose you, too?" Then he raised his eyes to her and saw the tears streaming down her cheeks. Her face was still immovable; she drew a long breath and opened her eyes; her lips moved, but no sound came; the life in her seemed to awaken with one burst. She bent down and raised him with her powerful arms. "You are mine," she said, with trembling voice. "Then I, too, will be yours!" * * * * * When the sun rose the following day, the pair were on their way to Genoa, whither Filippo had decided to retire from the persecutions of his enemies. The pale, tall man rode on a steady horse, which his betrothed led by the bridle. On either side the hills and valleys of the beautiful Apennines lay bright in the clear autumnal air, the eagles were circling overhead, and far in the distance shone the deep-blue sea. And bright and tranquil like the far-off ocean the travellers' future lay before their eyes. [Illustration] _Our Money Manufactory._