was the word spoken, than they loosed their hands; and the
uproar of the Carnival swept like a tempestuous sea over the spot which
they had included within their small circle of isolated feeling.

By this interview, the sculptor had learned nothing in reference to
Hilda; but he understood that he was to adhere to the instructions
already received, and await a solution of the mystery in some mode
that he could not yet anticipate. Passing his hands over his eyes, and
looking about him,--for the event just described had made the scene even
more dreamlike than before,--he now found himself approaching that broad
piazza bordering on the Corso, which has for its central object the
sculptured column of Antoninus. It was not far from this vicinity
that Miriam had bid him wait. Struggling onward as fast as the tide of
merrymakers, setting strong against him, would permit, he was now beyond
the Palazzo Colonna, and began to count the houses. The fifth was a
palace, with a long front upon the Corso, and of stately height, but
somewhat grim with age.

Over its arched and pillared entrance there was a balcony, richly hung
with tapestry and damask, and tenanted, for the time, by a gentleman of
venerable aspect and a group of ladies. The white hair and whiskers of
the former, and the winter roses in his cheeks, had an English look; the
ladies, too, showed a fair-haired Saxon bloom, and seemed to taste the
mirth of the Carnival with the freshness of spectators to whom the scene
was new. All the party, the old gentleman with grave earnestness, as if
he were defending a rampart, and his young companions with exuberance of
frolic, showered confetti inexhaustibly upon the passers-by.

In the rear of the balcony, a broad-brimmed, ecclesiastical beaver was
visible. An abbate, probably an acquaintance and cicerone of the English
family, was sitting there, and enjoying the scene, though partially
withdrawn from view, as the decorum for his order dictated.

There seemed no better nor other course for Kenyon than to keep watch at
this appointed spot, waiting for whatever should happen next. Clasping
his arm round a lamp-post, to prevent being carried away by the
turbulent stream of wayfarers, he scrutinized every face, with the idea
that some one of them might meet his eyes with a glance of intelligence.
He looked at each mask,--harlequin, ape, bulbous-headed monster, or
anything that was absurdest,--not knowing but that the messenger might
c