eared once more. He had not
been able to resist the temptation of getting one glimpse of the world he
loved, before the wet blanket of Lent extinguished the lights of the
ballrooms and the jollity of the dancers. Every one was surprised to see
him, and most people were pleased; he was such a useful man, that he had
often been missed during the time of his illness. He was improved in
appearance; for though he was very pale, he had grown also extremely
thin, and his features had gained delicacy.

When Giovanni saw him, he went up to him, and the two men exchanged a
formal salutation, while every one stood still for a moment to see the
meeting. It was over in a moment, and society gave a little sigh of
relief, as though a weight were removed from its mind. Then Del Ferice
went to Donna Tullia's side. They were soon alone upon a small sofa in a
small room, whither a couple strayed now and then to remain a few minutes
before returning to the ball. A few people passed through, but for more
than an hour they were not disturbed.

"I am very glad to see you," said Donna Tullia; "but I had hoped that the
first time you went out you would have come to my house."

"This is the first time I have been out--you see I should not have found
you at home, since I have found you here."

"Are you entirely recovered? You still look ill."

"I am a little weak--but an hour with you will do me more good than all
the doctors in the world."

"Thanks," said Donna Tullia, with a little laugh. "It was strange to see
you shaking hands with Giovanni Saracinesca just now. I suppose men have
to do that sort of thing."

"You may be sure I would not have done it unless it had been necessary,"
returned Del Ferice, bitterly.

"I should think not. What an arrogant man he is!"

"You no longer like him?" asked Del Fence, innocently.

"Like him! No; I never liked him," replied Donna Tullia, quickly.

"Oh, I thought you did; I used to wonder at it." Ugo grew thoughtful.

"I was always good to him," said Donna Tullia. "But of course I can never
forgive him for what he did at the Frangipani ball."

"No; nor I," answered Del Ferice, readily. "I shall always hate him for
that too."

"I do not say that I exactly hate him."

"You have every reason. It appears to me that since my illness we have
another idea in common, another bond of sympathy." Del Ferice spoke
almost tenderly; but he laughed immediately afterwards, as though not
wishing his words to