your own by them.

"Man of the world as I am," he continued, "I must confess that you
surprised me upon our first acquaintance. I could not tell whether I was
consorting with a very refined profligate or (forgive me) a very
singular fool. You came into the city in search (as you told me) of a
lady with whom you had had an abortive affair--but you came in company
with an attractive person, in a relationship with her which could only
bear one interpretation--No, no, you must hear me out, if you please,"
he said peremptorily, stopping my protest before it could be framed in
words. "Upon your representations I interested myself in Donna Aurelia.
I judged her attractive by your report; I found that your discernment
was even better than I had expected. She came to the convent in some
distress, I saw her, she was charming, she charmed me. She was in a
chastened mood, subdued, softly melancholy. I believe--indeed, I know--
that she had a tenderness for you. Well, I was prepared to be loyal, no
one is to say in my presence that I am a false friend. I WAS loyal
until--Pest!" cried he, "what did I find? I found that, while you
professed the most extravagant regard for the lady, you asked nothing
better for yourself than that she should return to the arms of her
horrible old spouse! I found also that you had recovered possession of
your straight young Contadina by means which were more ingenious than
lawful--that she was in your lodgings--your friend--your----"

Semifonte here gave a harsh guttural cry. Giraldi spoke to him in an
undertone, then resumed:

"You may remember my interest in that young woman's appearance and
manner, when I chanced to find her in your lodgings in the dress of a
fine lady. You remember that you then told me her history? Believe me