sh--eyes that seemed to say, "Oh,
erring man, that tormentest thyself with passing passions, shall not
thine own end approach speedily?--and what comfort wilt thou have in
thy last hour?"

And inwardly I answered, "None! No shred of consolation can ever again
be mine--no joy, save fulfilled revenge! And this I will possess though
the heavens should crack and the earth split asunder! For once a
woman's treachery shall meet with punishment--for once such strange
uncommon justice shall be done!"

And my spirit wrapped itself again in somber meditative silence. The
sunlight fell gloriously through the stained windows--blue, gold,
crimson, and violet shafts of dazzling radiance glittered in lustrous
flickering patterns on the snowy whiteness of the marble altar, and
slowly, softly, majestically, as though an angel stepped forward, the
sound of music stole on the incense-laden air. The unseen organist
played a sublime voluntary of Palestrina's, and the round harmonious
notes came falling gently on one another like drops from a fountain
trickling on flowers.

I thought of my last wedding-day, when I had stood in this very place,
full of hope, intoxicated with love and joy, when Guido Ferrari had
been by my side, and had drunk in for the first time the poisoned
draught of temptation from the loveliness of my wife's face and form;
when I, poor fool! would us soon have thought that God could lie, as
that either of these whom I adored could play me false. I drew the
wedding-ring from my pocket and looked at it--it was sparklingly bright
and appeared new. Yet it was old--it was the very same ring I had drawn
off my wife's finger the day before; it had only been burnished afresh
by a skilled jeweler, and showed no more marks of wear than if it had
been bought that morning.

The great bell of the cathedral boomed out eleven, and as the last
stroke swung from the tower, the chapel doors were flung more widely
open: then came the gentle rustle of trailing robes, and turning, I
beheld my wife. She approached, leaning lightly on the arm of the old
Chevalier Mancini, who, true to his creeds of gallantry, had accepted
with alacrity the post of paternal protector to the bride on this
occasion; and I could not well wonder at the universal admiration that
broke in suppressed murmurs from all assembled, as this most fair
masterpiece of the devil's creation paced slowly and gracefully up the
aisle. She wore a dress of clinging white velvet