esca by proxy in his brother's stead, and that she should be kept
in ignorance regarding the real state of affairs until it was too late
to withdraw her word. So Paolo came to Ravenna with a brilliant train of
gentlemen to celebrate the wedding festivities; and as he crossed the
courtyard of the palace on the morning of his arrival, a maid who knew
him pointed him out to Francesca through the open window, saying: "That
is he who is to be your husband." This Francesca believed, as she had no
reason to think otherwise, so skilfully was the marriage ceremony
arranged, and it was not until her arrival at Rimini that she knew her
fate. For there, on the morning following her coming, as she saw
Gianciotto rise from her side, when she had thought him to be Paolo, the
sad truth burst upon her. What excuses Paolo could give for this strange
deception we are not told, but the fact remains that Francesca still
loved him, and looked with scorn upon his misshapen brother. From that
time the dangerous moment slowly approached. Living together in the
same palace, it was but natural that Paolo and Francesca should be much
in each other's society; while Gianciotto, unloved and unlovely, busied
himself with his own affairs, which sometimes took him to other cities,
as he was a man of ambition and essayed by political manoeuvres to
advance his own interests. It happened once that in returning from one
of these journeys he saw Paolo enter Francesca's room, and then for the
first time he became jealous. Hitherto he had known of their affection
for each other, but it had never dawned upon him that his own brother
could thus betray his trust, while under his roof and receiving his
protection. Now he rushed up the broad stairway and made straight for
Francesca's door, anxious to know the worst. The door was found locked
before him, and his hurried knocks brought sudden terror to the lovers
within. There was an open window, however, through which Paolo counted
upon disappearing, and so he bade the lady make haste to open to her
lord, that he might not be curious. As Francesca opened the door, Paolo
found to his dismay that the edge of his cloak had caught upon a nail;
so that when Gianciotto, red with anger, burst into the room, the fatal
secret was disclosed. Grasping his dagger, without a moment's
hesitation, he stepped quickly to the window and would have slain his
brother with a single mighty blow, but Francesca, throwing herself
before him,