you really in earnest? Have you ever loved me, or have you all along deceived?"
"Look you," answered Philip, "I am a tempter of a peculiar kind. I search constantly among women to find truth and virtue, and 't is but seldom that I encounter them. Only the true and virtuous can keep me constant—therefore I am true to none; but no!—I will not lie—there is one that keeps me in her chains—I am sorry, fair Widow, that that one—is not you!"
"You are in a strange mood to-night, Prince," answered the Widow, and the trembling of her voice and heaving of her bosom showed the working of her mind.
"No," answered Philip, "I am in as rational a mood to-night as I ever was in my life. I wish only to repair an injury; I have promised to your husband to do so."
"How!" exclaimed the Widow, in a voice of terror, "you have discovered all to the Marshal?"
"Not everything," answered Philip, "only what I knew."
The Widow wrung her hands in the extremity of agitation, and at last said, "Where is my husband?"
Philip pointed to the Mameluke, who at this moment approached them with slow steps.
"Prince," said the Widow, in a tone of inexpressible rage,—"Prince, you may be forgiven
