t exit, she could not guess, since every side of
the small tower was covered with books and shelves, that rose from the
floor to the ceiling, and except the one by which she entered, no
door to be seen. Not a word nor an exclamation escaped her, as she saw
herself thus imprisoned; her first care was to examine the windows,
which readily opened, but whose great height from the ground made
escape impossible. She again tried the lock in various ways, but without
success; and then recommenced a close scrutiny of the sides of the
tower, through which she was aware there must be some means of exit. So
cunningly, however, was this devised, that it evaded all her search, and
she sat down at length baffled and weary.

The bright noon faded away into the mellower richness of later day,
and the long shadows of solitary trees or broken columns, stretched far
across the Campagna, showing that the sun was low. While she yet sat
silent and watchful in that lonely tower, her eyes had ranged over the
garden beneath, till she knew every bed and pathway. She had watched the
Campagna too, till her sight ached with the weary toil; but, except far,
far away, long out of reach, no succour appeared in view; and it seemed
to her, at times, as though there was something like destiny in this
dreary desolation. On that very morning, as she drove from Albano, the
fields were filled with labourers, and herds of cattle roved over the
great plains, with large troops of mounted followers. What had become
then of these? The sudden outburst of a hundred bells, pealing in almost
wild confusion now, broke upon the stillness, and seemed to make the
very walls vibrate with their din. Louder and louder this grand chorus
swelled out, till the sound seemed to rise from earth to heaven, filling
space with their solemn music; and, at length, there pealed out through
these the glorious cadences of a rich orchestra, coming nearer and
nearer as she listened. A grand procession soon made its appearance,
issuing out of one of the city gates, and holding its way across the
Campagna. There were banners and gorgeous canopies, splendidly attired
figures walked beneath, and the smoke of incense rose around them in
the still calm of a summer's evening. It was, then, some festival of the
Church, and to this was doubtless owing the silence and desertion which
reigned over the Campagna.

With a haughty and disdainful motion of her head, the Egyptian turned
away from the sight