rise and told him. "One left this
casket here for me this morning, a little while ago, shortly after I had
sent for you, saying that it came from him whose name would be revealed
by the treasure it contained. When I opened it I saw this rose, and I
made sure it came from you, for I thought, 'This is the rose that I gave
him, and he sends it to me in sign of greeting and of faith.'"

Dante shook his head, and he put his hand to his bosom and drew forth a
small piece of crimson, colored silk and unfolded it, and within the
silk there lay a withered red rose, and he showed it to Madonna
Beatrice, holding it on his extended hand.

"This is the rose you gave me, Madonna," he said. "Ever since that day
it has lived next to my heart." And as he spoke his wonder seemed
growing into fear, and he looked again at the casket and the rose that
it held.

"What, then, is this rose?" Beatrice asked. "And who sent it?"

Dante folded his own rose away in its coverlet of silk, and put it back
into his bosom. He shook his head. He was still full of wonder, the
wonder that was growing into fear. Before he could put his troubled
thoughts into words there came a hurried knocking at the door, and
Messer Tommaso Severo entered, looking anxious and alarmed.

"I fear there is some new trouble moving," he said; "there is one come
to your father with grave tidings, for Messer Folco's face was troubled;
but I know not what the tidings are."

Dante paid no heed to the old man's words. He took the mysterious rose
from the casket, and held it toward Severo. "Here," he said, "is a token
that was sent to Madonna Beatrice this morning; do you know anything of
it?"

Severo shook his head. "I know nothing of it," he said. "Who should send
Madonna Beatrice a withered rose?" He lifted it for a moment to his
nostrils. "For all it is withered," he said, "it has a strange scent, a
strong scent." He looked at the girl anxiously. "Have you smelled it?"
he asked.

"Yes," said Beatrice, "I have smelled it, and I have kissed it, for I
thought it came from Dante."

The old man muttered to himself, examining the flower and peering
curiously into its petals. He seemed as if he would have spoken again,
but was interrupted ere he could do so by the entrance of Messer Folco
looking very wrathful and stern. Folco showed no surprise at Dante's
presence, and saluted him with grave courtesy. Before Messer Folco could
speak, Severo slipped from the room.

Folco spo