“You may leave the room, Vincenzo,” I said, briefly.  He bowed, the door opened and shut noiselessly—­he was gone.

Slowly I broke the seal of that fateful letter; a letter from Guido Ferrari, a warrant self-signed, for his own execution!

“My best friend,” so it ran, “you will guess by the ‘black flag’ on my envelope the good news I have to give you.  My uncle is dead at last, thank God! and I am left his sole heir unconditionally.  I am free, and shall of course return to Naples immediately, that is, as soon as some trifling law business has been got through with the executors.  I believe I can arrange my return for the 23d or 24th instant, but will telegraph to you the exact day, and, if possible, the exact hour.  Will you oblige me by not announcing this to the countess, as I wish to take her by surprise.  Poor girl! she will have often felt lonely, I am sure, and I want to see the first beautiful look of rapture and astonishment in her eyes!  You can understand this, can you not, amico, or does it seem to you a folly?  At any rate, I should consider it very churlish were I to keep you in ignorance of my coming home, and I know you will humor me in my desire that the news should be withheld from Nina, How delighted she will be, and what a joyous carnival we will have this winter!  I do not think I ever felt more light of heart; perhaps it is because I am so much heavier in pocket.  I am glad of the money, as it places me on a more equal footing with her, and though all her letters to me have been full of the utmost tenderness, still I feel she will think even better of me, now I am in a position somewhat nearer to her own.  As for you, my good conte, on my return I shall make it my first duty to pay back with interest the rather large debt I owe to you—­thus my honor will be satisfied, and you, I am sure, will have a better opinion of

“Yours to command,

“Guido ferrari.”

This was the letter, and I read it over and over again.  Some of the words burned themselves into my memory as though they were living flame.  “All her letters to me have been full of the utmost tenderness!” Oh, miserable-dupe! fooled, fooled to the acme of folly even as I had been!  She, the arch-traitress, to prevent his entertaining the slightest possible suspicion or jealousy of her actions during his absence, had written him, no doubt, epistles sweet as honey brimming over with endearing epithets and vows of constancy, even while she knew she had accepted me as her husband—­ me—­good God!  What a devil’s dance of death it was!

“On my return I shall make it my first duty to pay back with interest the rather large debt I owe you” (rather large indeed, Guido, so large that you have no idea of its extent!), “thus my honor will be satisfied” (and so will mine in part), “and you, I am sure, will have a better opinion of yours to command.”  Perhaps I shall, Guido—­mine to command as you are—­perhaps when all my commands are fulfilled to the bitter end, I may think more kindly of you.  But not till then!  In the meantime—­I thought earnestly for a few minutes, and then sitting down, I penned the following note.