at all," she responded, in the
same tone of voice. "In my opinion, feelings should be concealed, not
exhibited." And she sighed, recalling her own silent vigils on the
floor beneath, unknown to all save the cavaliere.

"But--a thousand pardons!" cried Marescotti, gradually waking up to
some social energy, "I have been talking only of myself! Talking of
myself in your presence, ladies!--What can we do to amuse your niece,
marchesa? Lucca is horribly dull. If she is to go neither to festivals
nor to balls, it will not be possible for her to exist here."

"It will be quite possible," answered the marchesa, greatly displeased
at the turn the conversation was taking. "Quite possible, if I choose
it. Enrica will exist where I please. You forget she has lived here
for seventeen years. You see she has not died of it. She stays at home
by my order, count."

Enrica cast a pleading look at her aunt, as if to say, "Can I help all
this?" As for Count Marescotti, he was far too much engrossed with his
own thoughts to be aware that he was treading on delicate ground.

"But, marchesa," he urged, "you can't really keep your niece any
longer shut up like the fairy princess in the tower. Let me be
permitted to act the part of the fairy prince and liberate her."

Again he had turned, and again his glowing eyes fixed themselves on
Enrica, who had withdrawn as much as possible behind the curtains. Her
cheeks were dyed with blushes. She shrank from the count's too ardent
glances, as though those glances were an involuntary treason to
Nobili.

"Something must be done," muttered the count, meditating.

"Will you trust your niece with Cavaliere Trenta, and permit me to
accompany them on some little excursion in the city, to make up for
the loss of the cathedral and the ball?"

The marchesa, who found the count decidedly troublesome, not to say
impertinent, had opened her lips to give an unqualified negative, but
another glance from Trenta checked her.

"An excellent idea," put in the cavaliere, before she could
speak. "With _me_, marchesa--with _me_" he added, looking at her
deprecatingly.

Trenta loved Enrica better than any thing in the world, but carefully
concealed it, the better to serve her with her aunt.

"As for me, I am ready for any thing." And, to show his agility, he
rose, and, with the help of his stick, made a _glissade_ on the floor.

Baldassare laughed out loud from the corner. It gratified his wounded
vanity to se