g the wines to the guests.

"Gentlemen, a glass of Malmsey, Rhenish wine, claret, sherry, Muscatel?"

Whilst these delicious drinks and delicacies were thus distributed,
Geronimo never lost sight of Mr. Van de Werve, but observed him with an
eye full of hope and expectation.

When at last he saw Mr. Van de Werve leave the room, a bright smile
illumined his face. Geronimo knew that Mr. Van de Werve sometimes
gratified his friends and acquaintances by allowing his beautiful daughter
to be present at their evening reunion for about an hour, and he had been
impatiently awaiting the moment when the young girl would appear.

Simon Turchi, although apparently so unmoved, had constantly watched
Mary's betrothed, noticed the radiant expression of his countenance, and
understood the cause.

Mary was coming! Perhaps the whole company would know that his suit had
been rejected, and that Geronimo had succeeded where the powerful
administrator of the house of Buonvisi had failed!

This thought deeply wounded his pride. He scowled at Geronimo, who was
looking in another direction. Rage and jealousy goaded him almost to
madness; he felt that the scar on his face, by its deepening hue, would
betray his emotion, and to conceal it he covered his eyes with his hand.

Deodati asked him with interest:

"What is the matter, Signor Turchi? Are you ill?"

"The heat is intolerable," said Simon, endeavoring to master his feelings.

"Heat?" murmured Deodati; "it does not seem to me very warm. Shall I
accompany you for a few moments to the garden, signor?"

But Turchi raised his head, and smiling in an unconcerned manner, said:

"Many thanks, signor, for your kindness. I feel much better. I had been
looking too long at the large lustre, and its brilliant light made me
dizzy. But let us rise, signor, there is the beautiful Mary, _la bionda
maraviglia_!"

Mr. Van de Werve appeared at this moment at the door, and introduced his
beloved child. A murmur of admiration ran through the assembly, and room
was made for the father and daughter.

The beauty of Mary surpassed all expectation. Her dress consisted of a
flowing robe of silver-colored satin, with no other ornament than a girdle
of gold thread. Her own blonde hair was arranged around her head in the
form of a crown, in the centre of which were placed some white flowers
fastened by choice pearls. But the admiration of the spectators was
excited by her large blue eyes, her brilliant com