the Roman gate he found a large cavalcade making its
exit through the deep archway, and the crowd, falling back, made way for
the mounted party. Upward of twenty cavaliers and ladies rode past, each
mounted and followed by a numerous suite, whose equipment proclaimed
the party to be of rank and consideration. As Gerald stood aside to make
place for them to pass, a pair of dark eyes were darted keenly toward
him, and a deep voice called out:

'There's my Cerretano, that I was telling you about! Gherardi, boy, what
brings thee here?'

Gerald looked up and saw it was the poet who addressed him; but before
he could summon courage to answer, Alfieri said:

'Thou didst promise to be with me this morning early, and hast forgotten
it all, not to say that thou wert to equip thyself in something more
suitable than this motley. Never mind, come along with us. Cesare, give
him your pony; he is quiet and easy to ride. Fair ladies all,' added he,
addressing the party, 'this youth declaims the verse of Alfieri as such
a great poet merits. _Gherardi mio_, this is a public worthy of thy best
efforts to please. Get into the saddle; it's the surest, not to say the
pleasantest, way to jog toward Parnassus!'

Gerald was not exactly in the mood to like this bantering; he was ill at
ease with himself, and not over well satisfied with the world at large,
and he had half turned to decline the poet's invitation, when a gentle
voice addressed him, saying:

'Pray be my cavalier, Signorino; you see I have none.'

'Not ours the fault, Madame la Marquise,' quickly retorted Alfieri;
'you rejected us each in turn. Felice was too dull, Adriano too lively,
Giorgio was vain, and I--I forget what I was.'

'Worst of all, a great genius in the full blaze of his glory. No; I 'll
take Signor Gherardi--that is, if he will permit me.'

Gerald took off his cap and bowed deeply in reply; as he lifted his head
he beheld for the first time the features of her who addressed him. She
was a lady no longer young, past even the prime of life, but retaining
still something more than the traces of what had once been great beauty:
fair brown hair, and blue eyes shaded by long dark lashes, preserved to
her face a semblance of youthfulness; and there was a coquetry in her
riding-dress--the hat looped up with a richly jewelled band, and the
front of her habit embroidered in gold--which showed that she maintained
pretensions to be noticed and honoured.

As Gerald rode