“Really signor, we are exquisitely polite and complimentary to each other, but this is hardly the place for a lengthy conversation,” said Teresa, laughing, and coloring somewhat, as she met the slightly mischievous glances of the loungers who generally are to be found in theatres—­“if you are at liberty, why not step into the carriage, and drive home with me?”

“I shall be most happy,” replied Geraldi, with a radiant, delighted smile, as he accompanied her to the vehicle.

For some time the presence and vivacity of Geraldi roused Teresa from her serious, almost melancholy manners, and the wise ones looked knowing, and said:—­“They had always thought it would come to something!”

At last Geraldi did what every one was expecting him to; for finding Teresa alone one morning, he again offered himself with far better hopes and prospects than he had three years ago.  To his infinite amazement, the color fled from Teresa’s cheek, and covering her face with her hands, she sank upon a lounge with a wild burst of grief.  Geraldi, quite at a loss to interpret the nature of this emotion, surprised at its excess in one so generally self-possessed, hesitated what course to pursue, but at length said, in a low tone: 

“May I hope?”

“Hope!” repeated Teresa, in a bitter tone—­“what have I or any connection with me to do with that word.  O Mary mother, help me-help me!” she wailed in a fresh agony as her whole frame trembled with emotion.

Geraldi knew not what to say; with any other person he would have endeavored to soothe and discover the cause of this grief, but the agitation of Teresa was so fearful, and in her so unnatural, that he dared not question; he therefore did the next best thing, which was to keep silent.  In a few minutes the storm had exhausted itself, and with sternly composed features she rose and addressed Geraldi.

“Forget this!  It is seldom my feelings obtain such mastery over me, but my dark fate occurred so vividly to my mind, that it quite overpowered me.”

“Why not renounce it then?  I would strive so earnestly to make a brighter one for you.”

After a moment’s hesitation, she seemed to conquer some inward strife, and said, in a low voice: 

“I had thought never to have told it to any human being, but you are entitled to an explanation, and you are too honorable to expose me-Florian,” here her face was averted—­“Florian, I love another!”

For an instant Geraldi remained without motion, then darting forward he seized her hand, imprinted one despairing kiss upon it, and without a word, was gone.

Teresa wrung her hands and exclaimed—­“Villani, Villani!  Could you know what I suffer, even your hard heart would pity me!”

The afternoon dragged heavily along, and evening was approaching, when a knock at the door aroused Teresa from a restless reverie.  Bidding the person enter, she beheld Villani, who seated himself by her side, and informed her that he had something to propose which might please her.  Teresa wondering what it could be, begged him to proceed.