expression of their feelings〃what is extraordinary in the fact of
your loving a young and beautiful woman； artist enough to be able to
earn her living like Tinti； and of giving you some of the pleasures of
vanity？ What lout but would then become an Amadis？ This is not in
question between you and me。 What is needed is that we both love
faithfully； persistently； at a distance from each other for years；
with no satisfaction but that of knowing that we are loved。〃
〃Alas！〃 said Rodolphe； 〃will you not consider my fidelity as devoid of
all merit when you see me absorbed in the efforts of devouring
ambition？ Do you imagine that I can wish to see you one day exchange
the fine name of Gandolphini for that of a man who is a nobody？ I want
to become one of the most remarkable men of my country； to be rich；
greatthat you may be as proud of my name as of your own name of
Colonna。〃
〃I should be grieved to see you without such sentiments in your
heart；〃 she replied； with a bewitching smile。 〃But do not wear
yourself out too soon in your ambitious labors。 Remain young。 They say
that politics soon make a man old。〃
One of the rarest gifts in women is a certain gaiety which does not
detract from tenderness。 This combination of deep feeling with the
lightness of youth added an enchanting grace at this moment to
Francesca's charms。 This is the key to her character； she laughs and
she is touched； she becomes enthusiastic； and returns to arch raillery
with a readiness； a facility； which makes her the charming and
exquisite creature she is； and for which her reputation is known
outside Italy。 Under the graces of a woman she conceals vast learning；
thanks to the excessively monotonous and almost monastic life she led
in the castle of the old Colonnas。
This rich heiress was at first intended for the cloister； being the
fourth child of Prince and Princess Colonna； but the death of her two
brothers； and of her elder sister； suddenly brought her out of her
retirement； and made her one of the most brilliant matches in the
Papal States。 Her elder sister had been betrothed to Prince
Gandolphini； one of the richest landowners in Sicily； and Francesca
was married to him instead； so that nothing might be changed in the
position of the family。 The Colonnas and Gandolphinis had always
intermarried。
From the age of nine till she was sixteen； Francesca； under the
direction of a Cardinal of the family； had read all through the
library of the Colonnas； to make weight against her ardent imagination
by studying science； art； and letters。 But in these studies she
acquired the taste for independence and liberal ideas； which threw
her； with her husband； into the ranks of the revolution。 Rodolphe had
not yet learned that； besides five living languages； Francesca knew
Greek； Latin； and Hebrew。 The charming creature perfectly understood
that； for a woman； the first condition of being learned is to keep it
deeply hidden。
Rodolphe spent the whole winter at Geneva。 This winter passed like a
day。 When spring returned； notwithstanding the infinite delights of
the society of a clever woman； wonderfully well informed； young and
lovely； the lover went through cruel sufferings； endured indeed with
courage； but which were sometimes legible in his countenance； and
betrayed themselves in his manners or speech； perhaps because he
believed that Francesca shared them。 Now and again it annoyed him to
admire her calmness。 Like an Englishwoman； she seemed to pride herself
on expressing nothing in her face； its serenity defied love； he longed
to see her agitated； he accused her of having no feeling； for he
believed in the tradition which ascribes to Italian women a feverish
excitability。
〃I am a Roman！〃 Francesca gravely replied one day when she took quite
seriously some banter on this subject from Rodolphe。
There was a depth of tone in her reply which gave it the appearance of
scathing irony； and which set Rodolphe's pulses throbbing。 The month
of May spread before them the treasures of her fresh verdure； the sun
was sometimes as powerful as at midsummer。 The two lovers happened to
be at a part of the terrace where the rock arises abruptly from the
lake； and were leaning over the stone parapet that crowns the wall
above a flight of steps leading down to a landing…stage。 From the
neighboring villa； where there is a similar stairway； a boat presently
shot out like a swan； its flag flaming； its crimson awning spread over
a lovely woman comfortably reclining on red cushions； her hair
wreathed with real flowers； the boatman was a young man dressed like a
sailor； and rowing with all the more grace because he was under the
lady's eye。
〃They are happy！〃 exclaimed Rodolphe； with bitter emphasis。 〃Claire de
Bourgogne； the last survivor of the only house which can ever vie with
the royal family of France〃
〃Oh！ of a bastard branch； and that a female line。〃
〃At any rate； she is Vicomtesse de Beauseant； and she did not〃
〃Did not hesitate； you would say； to bury herself here with Monsieur
Gaston de Nueil； you would say；〃 replied the daughter of the Colonnas。
〃She is only a Frenchwoman； I am an Italian； my dear sir！〃
Francesca turned away from the parapet； leaving Rodolphe； and went to
the further end of the terrace； whence there is a wide prospect of the
lake。 Watching her as she slowly walked away； Rodolphe suspected that
he had wounded her soul； at once so simple and so wise； so proud and
so humble。 It turned him cold； he followed Francesca； who signed to
him to leave her to herself。 But he did not heed the warning； and
detected her wiping away her tears。 Tears！ in so strong a nature。
〃Francesca；〃 said he； taking her hand； 〃is there a single regret in
your heart？〃
She was silent； disengaged her hand which held her embroidered
handkerchief； and again dried her eyes。
〃Forgive me！〃 he said。 And with a rush； he kissed her eyes to wipe
away the tears。
Francesca did not seem aware of his passionate impulse； she was so
violently agitated。 Rodolphe； thinking she consented； grew bolder； he
put his arm round her； clasped her to his heart； and snatched a kiss。
But she freed herself by a dignified movement of offended modesty；
and； standing a yard off； she looked at him without anger； but with
firm determination。
〃Go this evening；〃 she said。 〃We meet no more till we meet at Naples。〃
This order was stern； but it was obeyed； for it was Francesca's will。
On his return to Paris Rodolphe found in his rooms a portrait of
Princess Gandolphini painted by Schinner； as Schinner can paint。 The
artist had passed through Geneva on his way to Italy。 As he had
positively refused to paint the portraits of several women； Rodolphe
did not believe that the Prince； anxious as he was for a portrait of
his wife； would be able to conquer the great painter's objections； but
Francesca； no doubt； had bewitched him； and obtained from himwhich
was almost a miraclean original portrait for Rodolphe； and a
duplicate for Emilio。 She told him this in a charming and delightful
letter； in which the mind indemnified itself for the reserve required
by the worship of the proprieties。 The lover replied。 Thus began；
never to cease； a regular correspondence between Rodolphe and
Francesca； the only indulgence they allowed themselves。
Rodolphe； possessed by an ambition sanctified by his love； set to
work。 First he longed to make his fortune； and risked his all in an
undertaking to which he devoted all his faculties as well as his
capital； but he； an inexperienced youth； had to contend against
duplicity； which won the day。 Thus three years were lost in a vast
enterprise； three years of struggling and courage。
The Villele ministry fell just when Rodolphe was ruined。 The valiant
lover thought he would seek in politics what commercial industry had
refused him； but before braving the storms of this career； he went；
all wounded and sick at heart； to have his bruises healed and his
courage revived at Naples； where the Prince and Princess had been
reinstated in their place and rights on the King's accession。 This； in
the midst of his warfare； was a respite full of delights； he spent
three months at the Villa Gandolphini； rocked in hope。
Rodolphe then began again to construct his fortune。 His talents were
already known； he was about to attain the desires of his ambition； a
high position was promised him as the reward of his zeal； his
devotion； and his past services； when the storm of July 1830 broke；
and again his bark was swamped。
She； and God！ These are the only witnesses of the brave efforts； the
daring attempts of a young man gifted with fine qualities； but to
whom； so far； the protection of luckthe god of foolshas been
denied。 And this indefatigable wrestler； upheld by love； comes back to
fresh struggles； lighted on his way by an always friendly eye； an ever
faithful heart。
Lovers！ Pray for him！
*****
As she finished this narrative； Mademoiselle de Watteville's cheeks
were on fire； there was a fever in her blood。 She was cryingbut with
rage。 This little novel； inspired by the literary style then in
fashion； was the first reading of the kind that Rosalie had ever had
the chance of devouring。 Love was depicted in it； if not by a master…
hand； at any rate by a man who seemed to give his own impressions； and
truth； even if unskilled； could not fail to touch a virgin soul。 Here
lay the secret of Rosalie's terrible agitation； of her fever and her
tears； she was jealous of Francesca Colonna。
She never for an instant doubted the sincerity of this poetical
flight； Albert had taken pleasure in telling the story of his passion；
while changing the names of persons and perhaps of places。 Rosalie was
possessed by infernal curiosity。 What woman but would； like her； have
wanted to know her rival's namefor she too loved！ As she read these
pages； to her really contagious； she had said solemnly to herself； 〃I
love him！〃She loved Albert； and felt in her heart a gnawing desire
to fight for him； to snatch him from this unknown rival。 She reflected
that she knew nothing of music； and that she was not beautiful。
〃He will never love me！〃 thought she。
This conclusion aggravated her