te brocades, crossed with what was once glittering threads of
gold, cover the walls. Rows of Venetian-glass chandeliers, tinted
in every shade of loveliest color, fashioned into colored knots,
pendants, and flowers, hang from the painted rafters. Mirrors, set
in ponderous frames of old Florentine gilding, dimly reflect every
object; narrow, high-backed chairs and carved wooden benches,
sculptured mosaic tables and ponderous sideboards covered with choice
pottery from Gubbio and Savona, and Lucca della Robbia ware. Sunk
in recesses there are dark cupboards filled with mediaeval salvers,
goblets, and flagons, gold dishes, and plates, and vessels of filigree
and silver. Ivory carvings hang on the walls beside dingy pictures,
or are ranged on tables of Sicilian agate and Oriental jasper. Against
the walls are also placed cabinets and caskets of carved walnut-wood
and ebony inlaid with lapis-lazuli, jasper, and precious stones; also
long, narrow coffers, richly carved, within which the _corredo_, or
_trousseau_, of rich brides who had matched with a Guinigi, was laid.

Beyond the retiring-room is the presence-chamber. On a dais, raised
on three broad steps, stands a chair of state, surmounted by a
dark-velvet canopy. Above appear the Guinigi arms, worked in gold and
black, tarnished now, as is the glory of the illustrious house they
represent. Overhead are suspended two cardinal's hats, dropping to
pieces with moth and mildew. On the wall opposite the dais, between
two ranges of narrow Venetian windows, looking into the court-yard,
hangs the historic portrait of Castruccio Castracani degli Antimelli,
the Napoleon of the middle ages, whose rapid conquests raised Lucca to
a sovereign state.

The name of the great Castruccio (whose mother was a Guinigi) is
the glory of the house, his portrait more precious than any other
possession.

A gleam of ruddy light strikes through a crevice in a red curtain
opposite; it falls full upon the chair of state. That chair is
not empty; a tall, dark figure is seated there. It is the Marchesa
Guinigi. She is so thin and pale and motionless, she might pass for a
ghost herself, haunting the ghosts of her ancestors!

It is her custom twice a year, on the anniversary of the birth and
death of Castruccio Castracani--to-day is the anniversary of
his death--to unlock the door leading from the hall into these
state-apartments, and to remain here alone for many hours. The key is
always about her pe