as Heaven vouchsafed
this spectator no such grace, Severo kept his place and his peace, and
he heard what Messer Folco said to his daughter Beatrice.

And what he said to her and what she answered to him was very brief and
direct.

Messer Folco asked his daughter, "Was this the man you talked with but
now?"

And Beatrice, looking neither at her father nor at any other one there
present, but looking straight before her over the gilded greenness of
the garden, answered, quietly, "No."

Then Folco questioned her again. "Will you tell me who the man was that
you talked with here?"

And again Beatrice, as tranquil, resolute to shield her lover from
danger, with the same fixed gaze over the green spaces below her,
answered as before the same answer, "No."

Then there came a breathing-space of quiet; Messer Folco looked hard at
his daughter; and she, for her part, looking, as before, away from him,
because, as I guess, she judged that there would be something irreverent
in outfacing her father while she denied his wishes and defied so
strangely his parental authority. Messer Simone stood at his ease a
little apart with the mocking smile of conquest on his face, and the
guests, kinsfolk, and friends, that were witnesses of the sad business,
huddled together uncomfortably.

Then Messer Folco, seeing that nothing more was to be got from the girl,
turned round and addressed himself to those of his kin that stood by the
entrance to the loggia. "Friends," he said, and his voice was measured,
and his words came slow and clear--"kinsmen and friends, I have a piece
of news for you. I announce here and now the betrothal of my daughter
Beatrice to Messer Simone dei Bardi, and I bid you all to the wedding
to-morrow in the church of the Holy Name."

Then, in the silence that greeted this statement, Messer Folco held out
his right hand to Simone and took his right hand, and he drew Simone
toward him and then toward Beatrice, and he lifted the right hand of
Beatrice, that lay limply against her side, and made to place its
whiteness on the brown palm of Messer Simone. Messer Simone's face was
flushed with triumph and Monna Beatrice's face was drawn with pain, and
those that witnessed and wondered thought a great wrong had been
wrought, and wondered why. But before Messer Folco could join the two
hands together Beatrice suddenly plucked her hand away from her father's
clasp.

"No! no! no!" she cried, in a loud voice, and then agai