hment. Revenge,
like a beckoning ghost, had led me on step by step for many weary days
and months, which to me had seemed cycles of suffering; but now it
paused--it faced me--and turning its blood-red eyes upon my soul said,
"Strike!"

CHAPTER XXXV.

The ball opened brilliantly. The rooms were magnificently decorated,
and the soft luster of a thousand lamps shone on a scene of splendor
almost befitting the court of a king. Some of the stateliest nobles in
all Italy were present, their breasts glittering with jeweled orders
and ribbons of honor; some of the loveliest women to be seen anywhere
in the world flitted across the polished floors, like poets' dreams of
the gliding sylphs that haunt rivers and fountains by moonlight.

But fairest where all were fair, peerless in the exuberance of her
triumphant vanity, and in the absolute faultlessness of her delicate
charms, was my wife--the bride of the day, the heroine of the night.
Never had she looked so surpassingly beautiful, and I, even I, felt my
pulse beat quicker, and the blood course more hotly through my veins,
as I beheld her, radiant, victorious, and smiling--a veritable queen of
the fairies, as dainty as a drop of dew, as piercing to the eye as a
flash of light. Her dress was some wonderful mingling of misty lace,
with the sheen of satin and glimmering showers of pearl; diamonds
glittered on her bodice like sunlight on white foam; the brigand's
jewels flashed gloriously on her round white throat and in her tiny
shell-like ears, while the masses of her gold hair were coiled to the
top of her small head and there caught by a priceless circlet of
rose-brilliants--brilliants that I well remembered--they had belonged
to my mother. Yet more lustrous than the light of the gems she wore was
the deep, ardent glory of her eyes, dark as night and luminous as
stars; more delicate than the filmy robes that draped her was the pure,
pearl-like whiteness of her neck, which was just sufficiently displayed
to be graceful without suggesting immodesty.

For Italian women do not uncover their bosoms for the casual inspection
of strangers, as is the custom of their English and German sisters;
they know well enough that any lady venturing to wear a decollete dress
would find it impossible to obtain admittance to a court ball at the
Palazzo Quirinale. She would be looked upon as one of a questionable
class, and no matter how high her rank and station, would run the risk
of