But another
glance at that beautiful being in distress, checked all my wrath. Anger
could not dwell together with her idea in my soul.
"Oh, Bianca," exclaimed I, in anguish, "could I have dreamt of this;
could I have suspected you would have been false to me?"
She raised her face all streaming with tears, all disordered with
emotion, and gave me one appealing look--"False to you!--they told me
you were dead!"
"What," said I, "in spite of our constant correspondence?"
She gazed wildly at me--"correspondence!--what correspondence?"
"Have you not repeatedly received and replied to my letters?"
She clasped her hands with solemnity and fervor--"As I hope for mercy,
never!"
A horrible surmise shot through my brain--"Who told you I was dead?"
"It was reported that the ship in which you embarked for Naples
perished at sea."
"But who told you the report?"
She paused for an instant, and trembled--
"Filippo!"
"May the God of heaven curse him!" cried I, extending my clinched fists
aloft.
"Oh do not curse him--do not curse him!" exclaimed she--"He is--he is
--my husband!"
This was all that was wanting to unfold the perfidy that had been
practised upon me. My blood boiled like liquid fire in my veins. I
gasped with rage too great for utterance. I remained for a time
bewildered by the whirl of horrible thoughts that rushed through my
mind. The poor victim of deception before me thought it was with her I
was incensed.
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