an maiden,
who had learned better things of the Carthusian sisters, was not ashamed
to aid and abet that sinful Italian woman. Thus my brother was in great
peril lest Ursula's prophecy should be fulfilled by his own fault.
Indeed he already had his foot in the springe, inasmuch as that he could
not say nay to the Marchesa's bidding that he would go to her house on
her name-day. It was a higher power that came betwixt them, vouchsafing
him merciful but grievous repentance; the plague, Death's unwearied
executioner, snatched the fair, but sinful lady, from among the living.
Ursula lamented over her as though it were her own sister that had died;
and it seemed that the Marchesa was fain to keep up the bond that had
held them together even beyond the grave, for it was at her funeral that
the son of one of the oldest and noblest families of the Republic first
saw Mistress Ursula Tetzel, and was fired with love for the maiden. She
had many a time been seen abroad with the Marchesa, or with the Polanis,
and the young gentlemen of the Signoria, the painters, and the poets,
had marked her well; the natural golden hue of her hair was an amazement
and a delight to the Italians; indeed many a black-haired lady and
common hussy would sit on her roof vainly striving to take the color out
of her own locks. It was the same with her velvet skin, which even at
Nuremberg had many a time brought to men's minds the maid in the tale of
"Snow-white and Rose-red."

Thus it fell that Anselmo Guistiniani had heard of her during the
lifetime of his cousin the Marchesa Zorzi, while he was absent from
Venice on state matters. And when he beheld her with his own eyes among
the mourners, there was an end to his peace of heart; he forthwith set
himself to win her for his own. Howbeit Ursula met her noble suitor
with icy coldness, and when he and Herdegen came together at the Palazzo
Polani, where she was lodging, she made as though she saw my lord not at
all, and had no eyes nor ears save for my brother; till it was more
than Guistinani would bear, and he abruptly departed. Herdegen's letter,
which told us all these things, was full of kindly pity for the fair and
hapless damsel who had demeaned herself so basely towards him, by reason
that her fiery love had turned her brain, and that she still was pining
for him to whom she had ever been faithful from her childhood up. She
had freely confessed as much even under the very eyes of so lordly
a suitor a