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 *moved." "What of Lady Margaret?" interrupted Viviani, while bitter smiles quivered upon his lip. "Do you mark the pavement of stone upon which you tread? Do you see the steel of which this sabre is composed—once heated by the flames, now hard and insensible?—so cold,—so petrified is the heart, when it has once given full vent to passion. Marble is that heart which only beats for my destruction. The time is not yet arrived, but I will dash the cup of joy from her lips; then drink the dregs myself, and die." "Mere jealous threats," said Gondimar. "The curse of innocent blood is on her," replied Viviani, as his livid cheeks and lips resumed a purple dye. "Name her no more." "Explain yourself," cried his astonished friend. "You frequently allude to scenes of deeper guilt and horror, than I dare even suffer myself to imagine possible." "The heart of man is unfathomable," replied