admiration was too necessary to her, and her custom of deference to its conventional laws too much an instinct; she had been too long accustomed to regard the impulses of the heart as insane follies, and poverty of life as pain and madness.
The same evening he did leave the town for Sicily, where he had lands which, though beautiful, were utterly unproductive, and constantly harried by the system of brigandage, which paralysed the district. "He will get shot most likely. He has declared that he will not return without having captured Pibro," said an Italian in her hearing, at a musical gathering, dedicated to the music of Pergolese. Pibro was a notorious Sicilian robber. The sweet chords sounded very harsh and jangled in her ears; she left early, and went home and took a heavy dose of chloral, which only gave her dark and dreary dreams.
"What miserable creatures we are!" she thought, wearily. "We cannot even sleep naturally—poor people can sleep;—they lie on hard benches, and dream with smiles on their faces."
She got up and looked out at the moonlight
