in the denial of these claims the
Church is wounded, and the triumph of a dangerous heresy proclaimed. Who
can say at what moment it may be the policy of the Continent to renew
the struggle?'

'Oh, speak on, lady: tell me more of what fills my heart with highest
hope,' exclaimed he rapturously. 'Do not, I beseech you, look on me as
the poor stroller, the thing of tinsel and spangles, but as one in whose
veins generous blood is running. I am a Geraldine, and the Geraldines
are all noble.'

The sudden change in the youth's aspect, the rich, full tones of his
voice, as, gaining courage with each word, he asserted his claim to
consideration, seemed to have produced an effect upon the Marquise, who
pondered for some time without speaking.

'Mayhap, lady, I have offended you by this rash presumption,' said
Gerald, as he watched her downcast eyes and steadfast expression; 'but
forgive me, as one so little skilled in life, that he mistakes gentle
forbearance for an interest in his fortunes.'

'But I _am_ interested in you, Gherardi; I _do_ wish to befriend you.
Let me hear about your kith. Who are these Geraldines you speak of?'

'I know not, lady,' said he, abashed; 'but from my childhood I was
ever taught to believe that, wherever my name was spoken, men would
acknowledge me as noble.'

'And from whom can we learn these things more accurately? have you
friends or relations to whom we could write?'

Just as she spoke, the head of the cavalcade passed beneath a deep
gateway into the court of an ancient palace, and the echoing sounds
of the horses' feet soon drowned the voices of the speakers. 'This is
"Camerotto," an old villa of the Medici,' whispered the Marquise.
'We have come to see the frescoes; they are by Perugino, and of great
repute.'

The party descended, and entering the villa, wandered away in groups
through the rooms. It was one of those spacious edifices which were
types of mediaeval life, lofty, splendid, but comfortless. Dropping
behind the well-dressed train as they passed on, Gerald strayed alone
and at will through the palace, and at last found himself in a small
chamber, whose one window looked out on a deep and lonely valley. The
hills which formed the boundaries were arid, stony, and treeless,
but tinted with those gorgeous colours which, in Italian landscape,
compensate in some sort for the hues of verdure, and every angle and
eminence on them were marked out with that peculiar distinctness whi