that
Italian freedom which has not its parallel in any other country in
the world. They were attired as peasants of Albano, Velletri,
Civita-Castellana, and Sora. We need hardly add that these peasant
costumes, like those of the young women, were brilliant with gold and
jewels.

"Carmela wished to form a quadrille, but there was one lady wanting.
Carmela looked all around her, but not one of the guests had a costume
similar to her own, or those of her companions. The Count of San-Felice
pointed out Teresa, who was hanging on Luigi's arm in a group of
peasants. 'Will you allow me, father?' said Carmela.--'Certainly,'
replied the count, 'are we not in Carnival time?'--Carmela turned
towards the young man who was talking with her, and saying a few words
to him, pointed with her finger to Teresa. The young man looked, bowed
in obedience, and then went to Teresa, and invited her to dance in a
quadrille directed by the count's daughter. Teresa felt a flush pass
over her face; she looked at Luigi, who could not refuse his assent.
Luigi slowly relinquished Teresa's arm, which he had held beneath his
own, and Teresa, accompanied by her elegant cavalier, took her appointed
place with much agitation in the aristocratic quadrille. Certainly, in
the eyes of an artist, the exact and strict costume of Teresa had a very
different character from that of Carmela and her companions; and Teresa
was frivolous and coquettish, and thus the embroidery and muslins, the
cashmere waist-girdles, all dazzled her, and the reflection of sapphires
and diamonds almost turned her giddy brain.

"Luigi felt a sensation hitherto unknown arising in his mind. It was
like an acute pain which gnawed at his heart, and then thrilled through
his whole body. He followed with his eye each movement of Teresa and her
cavalier; when their hands touched, he felt as though he should swoon;
every pulse beat with violence, and it seemed as though a bell were
ringing in his ears. When they spoke, although Teresa listened timidly
and with downcast eyes to the conversation of her cavalier, as Luigi
could read in the ardent looks of the good-looking young man that his
language was that of praise, it seemed as if the whole world was turning
round with him, and all the voices of hell were whispering in his ears
ideas of murder and assassination. Then fearing that his paroxysm might
get the better of him, he clutched with one hand the branch of a tree
against which he was lea