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 his opponents should be prostrated at his feet; and how could this be done more easily and more effectually, and without laying himself open for a moment to direct accusation? The Mocenigos, the Contarinos, the Foscarinis, and all the truly noble families, are enemies to a man like Frangipani, who tramples upon the nobility of his race, and courts the favour of kings, that he may some day, with foreign money, foreign influence, and foreign arms, inflict a death-blow on the liberties of his country.”

“I am not acquainted with the count, and therefore cannot make any reply to your accusation,” said Camillo, with indifference. “But a lucky chance has assigned me quarters in his palace; and indeed, when one sees the divinely beautiful Apollonia, and hears her descant on her husband’s merits”

“Divinely beautiful Apollonia, indeed!” reiterated the nobile, with a sarcastic sneer. “We know this divine Apollonia pretty well. In the absence of a third person, she can be human enough.”

“What do you say?” hastily exclaimed Camillo, who had listened to the charge against the count, preferred by one who was evidently his enemy, without believing a word of it; but who found the more probability in his malicious insinuation against Apollonia.

“I say,” rejoined the Venetian, “that the