“I sincerely repent the compact I obliged you to make, and now wish to destroy it.”

Teresa looked at him in undisguised astonishment.  “I do not think I understand you-is it your wish that I should enjoy the whole of the proceeds of my singing?”

“You have said it.”

“And what concession am I to make in return?” she inquired, as though suspicious some greater enormity than he had yet been guilty of, was intended.

“What return?  O Teresa, cannot you comprehend and believe, that I expect and desire none?”

“I know not how I should, since your whole conduct has hardly been such as to impress me very profoundly with the idea that generosity is a prominent characteristic of Signor Villani’s!”

“Say no more-let us be friends, Teresa.  I will do all I can for you, and do not utter reproaches for what is a misfortune to me, although it were a glory to any other.”

His companion scarce credited her senses.  Was it possible that Villani, her tormentor and cruel persecutor, indeed wished her well and desired to become her friend?  It seemed strange, yet his manner was more like truth than she had ever seen it before, and she felt she had perhaps wronged him, that beneath all, a heart, human and accessible to some generous emotion, yet beat, and her own noble, ingenuous nature, ever ready to accuse itself and offer atonement, impelled her to extend both hands to Villani and reply: 

“Pardon me, I have wronged you-it is indeed worse than foolish to cherish animosity toward each other, and henceforth let us not forget we are of one great family, equally cared for by our heavenly Father!”

Villani took Teresa’s hands, and kissing them, thanked her so warmly and earnestly that she could not doubt his sincerity, and though she was aware love was impossible, she hoped to respect him more than she had done.  Villani on his part, had acquired enough by Teresa to afford this seeming generosity, and his sole object was to win her love; he was well aware if his motive was known to her, she would not have accepted this proffered friendship, and he rejoiced that his past conduct had been such as to forbid the supposition that he sought anything more.  Presently there came a pause in the conversation, and Villani, after gazing intently upon his companion, observed: 

“How much you have altered since I first saw you, Teresa.  I suppose it is partly owing to your natural progress from childhood to womanhood-why, you must be nineteen?”

“Just twenty.”

“Perhaps you are even handsomer than you were four years ago, although I see you have called in the aid of foreign ornament-it was the wisest course, however.”

The rich color which suddenly dyed Teresa’s cheeks, most certainly was not the gift of art, yet she assented to Villani’s words.

“Not but what I think your beauty sufficient to challenge improvement-indeed, I prefer you as you used to be-but you are lovely enough to cause heart aches as it is.”