t old family had been in mourning for
years, owing to three successive deaths, and during all that time the
ancient stronghold which was called their palace had been closed to the
world. For some time, indeed, no one of the name had been in Rome--the
prince and princess preferring to pass the time of mourning in the
country and in travelling; while the eldest son, now just of age, was
finishing his academic career at an English University. But this year the
family had returned: there had been both dinners and receptions at the
palace, and the ball, which was to be a sort of festival in honour of the
coming of age of the heir, was expected as the principal event of the
year. It was rumoured that there would be nearly thirty rooms opened
besides the great hall, which was set aside for dancing, and that the
arrangements were on a scale worthy of a household which had endured in
its high position for upwards of a thousand years. It was understood that
no distinction had been made, in issuing the invitations, between parties
in politics or in society, and that there would be more people seen there
than had been collected under one roof for many years.

The Frangipani did things magnificently, and no one was disappointed. The
gardens and courts of the palace were brilliantly illuminated; vast
suites of apartments were thrown open, and lavishly decorated with rare
flowers; the grand staircase was lined with footmen in the liveries of
the house, standing motionless as the guests passed up; the supper was a
banquet such as is read of in the chronicles of medieval splendour; the
enormous conservatory in the distant south wing was softly lit by shaded
candles concealed among the tropical plants; and the ceilings and walls
of the great hall itself had been newly decorated by famous painters;
while the polished wooden floor presented an innovation upon the
old-fashioned canvas-covered brick pavement, not hitherto seen in any
Roman palace. A thousand candles, disposed in every variety of chandelier
and candelabra, shed a soft rich light from far above, and high in the
gallery at one end an orchestra of Viennese musicians played unceasingly.

As generally happens at very large balls, the dancing began late, but
numbers of persons had come early in order to survey the wonders of the
palace at their leisure. Among those who arrived soon after ten o'clock
was Giovanni Saracinesca, who was greeted loudly by all who knew him. He
looked pal