er friend prepared to
follow the rest and be present at the high mass, but Gianna pleaded
indisposition, said she had sat too long in the sun, and with bent head
took her solitary way to her own home. One of the flowers with which
the streets were strewn, she picked up to carry back as a memorial; it
was a red carnation trodden down by a horse's hoof. This flower she
placed in a glass of water, and secretly settled with herself what it
should be held to betoken if it were to revive.

"Her old nurse who had been gazing at the procession through one of the
port-holes of the city-gates, overflowed with praises and admiration of
Attilio, of the modest way in which he had looked about him, he, an
immortal hero at such an early age! dwelling on all the honour and fame
he was sure to win in the future, making the name of his native town
great amongst all the cities of Italy, perhaps indeed greater than even
Florence or Rome! Then she fell to speaking of his betrothed, whom all
ladies must needs envy, and to wondering whether she was worthy of him,
and not by chance like her brother Signor Lorenzaccio, who stood in the
worst repute with the inhabitants of Treviso, the women more
especially. To all these remarks the fair Gianna replied nothing, or at
least very little, and much to the old woman's surprise, sat herself
down to her embroidery frame as though it were a common working-day,
only raising her eyes from time to time to look at the flower in the
glass. When afternoon came, and with it the rest of the amusements,
racing, dancing, and beautiful fireworks, she still remained quietly
seated, while the servant went out to enjoy the general hilarity. It
was indeed only late in the evening that she returned, tired to death
and covered with dust, but still with plenty to tell, and full of
tender pity for her mistress, who had lost so much by her sad headache.
The fair Gianna listened with a calm countenance, not joyous indeed,
yet not sad, as though she had no part in what was going on. Meanwhile
she had added a large piece to the stole she was working, and
apparently had never moved from her chair. But the carnation in the
glass was now in full bloom.

"By this time night had come, and after the women had got through their
silent supper, old Catalina, whose sexagenarian limbs had toiled hard
during the day, betook herself to her bed in the kitchen. Her mistress
remained up, looking at the rising of the moon above the broad pla