After all, if she departed forever without speaking out the secret of those two hearts, what harm would be done.  Who had the right to prevent the susceptible Italian feeling the first impressions of the gentler sex and owing them to Cesarine?  He could but be thankful that he saw only the prologue to “the great dreadful tragedy of Woman.”  He might blame himself for cherishing the memory of the false wife, but he could not annul that early sensation.  Was it her fault, brought to France at the sequel of a romantic adventure, if she met him, a castaway, and disturbed his youth and innocence?  There had not seemed any evil intention in speech or behavior toward him, and he himself might be as proud as she was of the pure and respectful sentiment which should have contributed toward her amelioration.  In this case, he—­ignorant of the counter-attraction of the Viscount de Terremonde—­imagined that she had struggled also against the pressure of nature and the sin was no more when she triumphed.

“Well, listen to the secret which we can discuss,” said she.  “I wish to be associated with you in a good action, which, I hope, will lead to many another, if it is the first.  One of these days, when you learn the story of my life, you will see there was a little good in it to shine on the dark background.  Are you not willing to help me increase it?  In this case, that good and honorable man will profit.”

Antonino listened spellbound, he could have been ordered up to their own terrible cannon’s mouth by that resistless voice.

“Let me live one day in your youth, illusions and unstained conscience,” she implored.  “Well, here in this little pocketbook are letters of credit for two hundred thousand francs.  It is all I have—­take it.”

“What am I to do with it?” said Antonino.

“Put it away somewhere out of my reach to retake it.  I know myself and that, if I have a good thought one day, I might entertain the reverse on the next.  If I broke into the money, I could not replace the sum extracted, and, another thing, I cannot make the use of it I intended.  Leave me to win from my husband the acceptance of the help I wish to give him.  It may take long, but until then, pray keep the money; that will not entangle you in any degree.”

What a strange woman! he thought.  She does evil with the easy, graceful air of an almsgiver distributing charity, and she does good with the stealth of a criminal!

“I am a fair example of my sex,” said she, divining what was in his mind, “weak, ignorant, unfortunate:  and stupid—­and the proof is any harm I have done to others is nothing to that I have wrought to myself.”

Antonino, taking the pocketbook—­a dainty article in Russian leather—­went to the oaken chest which he opened after what seemed some cabalistic manipulation, and the muttering of what seemed an “Open Sesame!”

“Have you no safe yet, is that box strong and secure?” she inquired in a tone of well assumed anxiety, as she hurriedly took three or four steps to bring her again beside him.