278 IN A WINTER CITY.
An ItaUan has infinite passion, but he has
also infinite patience in matters of love. Nor
was he, now that he was assured of his power
over her, whoUy content to use it; if he mar¬
ried her, the world would always say that it was
for her wealth. That means of raising his own
fortimes which had seemed to him so material
and legitunate aU his life, now seemed to him
unworthy and unmanly since he had grown to
care for her. He knew that such riches as she
possessed were precisely those wiih which he
had always intended to rebuUd the faUen great¬
ness of his race; but smce he had loved her it
looked very different.
The charm of thefr intercourse to him was the
ascendency he had won over her, the power that
he had gained to lift her nature to a higher level:
where would his influence be when he had once
stooped to enrich himself by its means ?
These fancies saddened him and checked
him, and made him not unwUUng to linger on
about her, in aU that indistinct sweetness of half-
recognised and half-unspoken love.
The position, uncertain as it was, had its