He asked her:  “Could you be her friend?”

“Does a woman who has a husband want a friend?”

“I could reply, countess, in the case of a man who has a bride.”

By dint of a sweet suggestion here and there, love-making crossed the topic.  It appeared that General Pierson had finally been attacked, on the question of his resistance to every endeavour to restore Wilfrid to his rank, by Count Lenkenstein, and had barely spoken the words—­that if Wilfrid came to Countess Lena of his own free-will, unprompted, to beg her forgiveness, he would help to reinstate him, when Wilfrid’s name was brought up by the chasseur.  All had laughed, “Even I,” Lena confessed.  And then the couple had a pleasant petitish wrangle;—­he was requested to avow that he had came solely, or principally, to beg forgiveness of her, who had such heaps to forgive.  No; on his honour, he had come for the purpose previously stated, and on the spur of his hearing that she was Countess Alessandra Ammiani’s deadly enemy.  “Could you believe that I was?” said Lena; “why should I be?” and he coloured like a lad, which sign of an ingenuousness supposed to belong to her set, made Lena bold to take the upper hand.  She frankly accused herself of jealousy, though she did not say of whom.  She almost admitted that when the time for reflection came, she should rejoice at his having sought her to plead for his friend rather than for her forgiveness.  In the end, but with a drooping pause of her bright swift look at Wilfrid, she promised to assist him in defeating any machinations against Vittoria’s happiness, and to keep him informed of Countess d’Isorella’s movements.  Wilfrid noticed the withdrawing fire of the look.  “By heaven! she doubts me still,” he ejaculated inwardly.

These half-comic little people have their place in the history of higher natures and darker destinies.  Wilfrid met Pericles, from whom he heard that Vittoria, with her husband’s consent, had pledged herself to sing publicly.  “It is for ze Lombard widows,” Pericles apologized on her behalf; “but, do you see, I onnly want a beginning.  She thaerst for ze stage; and it is, after marriage, a good sign.  Oh! you shall hear, my friend; marriage have done her no hurt—­ze contrary!  You shall hear Hymen—­Cupids—­not a cold machine; it is an organ alaif!  She has privily sung to her Pericles, and ser, and if I wake not very late on Judgement.  Day, I shall zen hear—­but why should I talk poetry to you, to make you laugh?  I have a divin’ passion for zat woman.  Do I not give her to a husband, and say, Be happy! onnly sing!  Be kissed! be hugged! onnly give Pericles your voice.  By Saint Alexandre! it is to say to ze heavens, Move on your way, so long as you drop rain on us r—­you smile—­you look kind.”