"Thou lovest me well, dearest Fernand," she said in her musical Italian tones; "and thou would'st not create a pang in my heart? Then never seek to learn wherefore, when at the still tender age of fifteen, I resolved upon consummating so dreadful a sacrifice as to affect dumbness. The circumstances were, indeed, solemnly grave and strangely important, which demanded so awful a martyrdom. But well did I weigh all the misery and all the peril that such a self-devotion was sure to entail upon me. I knew that I must exercise the most stern--the most remorseless--the most inflexible despotism over my emotions--that I must crush as it were the very feelings of my soul--that I must also observe a caution so unwearied and so constantly wakeful, that it would amount to a sensitiveness the most painful--and that I must prepare myself to hear the merry jest without daring to smile, or the exciting narrative of the world's stirring events without suffering my countenance to vary a hue! Oh! I calculated--I weighed all this, and yet I was not appalled by the immensity of the task. I knew the powers of my own mind, and I did not deceive myself as to their extent. But, ah! how fearful was it at first to hear the sounds of human voices, and dare not respond to them; how maddening at times was it to listen to conversation in which I longed to join, and yet be compelled to sit like a passionless statue! But mine was a will of iron strength--a resolution of indomitable power! Even when alone when I knew that I should not be overheard--I never essayed the powers of my voice, I never murmured a single syllable to myself so fearful was I lest the slightest use of the glorious gift of speech might render me weak in my purpose. And strange as it may seem to you, dearest Fernand, not even on this island did I yield to the temptation of suddenly breaking that long, that awful silence which I had imposed upon myself. And, until this day, one human being only, save myself, was acquainted with that mighty secret of ten long years, and that man was the generous-hearted, the noble-minded Dr. Duras. He it was who aided me in my project of simulating the forlorn condition of the deaf and dumb: he it was who bribed the turnkeys to admit me unquestioned to your cell in the prison of the ducal palace. And for years, perhaps, should I have retained my wondrous secret even from _you_, dearest Fernand; for through dangers of many kinds--in circumstances of the most trying nature, have I continued firm in my purpose; abjuring the faculty of speech even when it would have saved me from much cruel embarrassment or from actual peril. Thus, when the villain Stephano Verrina bore me away by force from my native city, I maintained the seal upon my lips, trusting to circumstances to enable me to escape from his power without being compelled to betray a secret of such infinite value and importance to myself. But when I found that I was so narrowly watched at Leghorn