l dignity of
her position as the wife of so rich a nobleman as I was reputed to be,
therefore she raised no objection when I fixed the day of our marriage
for Giovedi Grasso. Then the fooling and mumming, the dancing,
shrieking, and screaming would be at its height; it pleased my whim to
have this other piece of excellent masquerading take place at the same
time.

The wedding was to be as private as possible, owing to my wife's
"recent sad bereavements," as she herself said with a pretty sigh and
tearful, pleading glance. It would take place in the chapel of San
Gennaro, adjoining the cathedral. We were married there before! During
the time that intervened, Nina's manner was somewhat singular. To me
she was often timid, and sometimes half conciliatory. Now and then I
caught her large dark eyes fixed on me with a startled, anxious look,
but this expression soon passed away. She was subject, too, to wild
fits of merriment, and anon to moods of absorbed and gloomy silence. I
could plainly see that she was strung up to an extreme pitch of nervous
excitement and irritability, but I asked her no questions. If--I
thought--if she tortured herself with memories, all the better--if she
saw, or fancied she saw, the resemblance between me and her "dear dead
Fabio," it suited me that she should be so racked and bewildered.

I came and went to and fro from the villa as I pleased. I wore my dark
glasses as usual, and not even Giacomo could follow me with his
peering, inquisitive gaze; for since the night he had been hurled so
fiercely to the ground by Guido's reckless and impatient hand, the poor
old man had been paralyzed, and had spoken no word. He lay in an upper
chamber, tended by Assunta, and my wife had already written to his
relatives in Lombardy, asking them to send for him home.

"Of what use to keep him?" she had asked me.

True! Of what use to give even roof-shelter to a poor old human
creature, maimed, broken, and useless for evermore? After long years of
faithful service, turn him out, cast him forth! If he die of neglect,
starvation, and ill-usage, what matter?--he is a worn-out tool, his day
is done--let him perish. I would not plead for him--why should I? I had
made my own plans for his comfort--plans shortly to be carried out; and
in the mean time Assunta nursed him tenderly as he lay speechless, with
no more strength than a year-old baby, and only a bewildered pain in
his upturned, lack-luster eyes. One incident