“Misled you!” retorted Montoni with quickness, “is my conduct—my word”—then pausing, while he seemed endeavouring to restrain the resentment, that flashed in his eyes, in the next moment he added, in a subdued voice, “Count Morano, this is a language, a sort of conduct to which I am not accustomed: it is the conduct of a passionate boy—as such, I pass it over in contempt.”
“In contempt, Signor?”
“The respect I owe myself,” rejoined Montoni, “requires, that I should converse more largely with you upon some points of the subject in dispute. Return with me to Venice, and I will condescend to convince you of your error.”
“Condescend, sir! but I will not condescend to be so conversed with.”
Montoni smiled contemptuously; and Emily, now terrified for the consequences of what she saw and hear
