drove on. He reached home in
safety.

The familiar and endearing intimacy which always exists in Italy between
the nurse and the child she has reared, and which the "Romeo and Juliet"
of Shakespeare in no way exaggerates, could not but be drawn yet closer
than usual, in a situation so friendless as that of the orphan-actress.
In all that concerned the weaknesses of the heart, Gionetta had large
experience; and when, three nights before, Viola, on returning from the
theatre, had wept bitterly, the nurse had succeeded in extracting from
her a confession that she had seen one,--not seen for two weary and
eventful years,--but never forgotten, and who, alas! had not evinced the
slightest recognition of herself. Gionetta could not comprehend all the
vague and innocent emotions that swelled this sorrow; but she resolved
them all, with her plain, blunt understanding, to the one sentiment
of love. And here, she was well fitted to sympathise and console.
Confidante to Viola's entire and deep heart she never could be,--for
that heart never could have words for all its secrets. But such
confidence as she could obtain, she was ready to repay by the most
unreproving pity and the most ready service.

"Have you discovered who he is?" asked Viola, as she was now alone in
the carriage with Gionetta.

"Yes; he is the celebrated Signor Zanoni, about whom all the great
ladies have gone mad. They say he is so rich!--oh! so much richer than
any of the Inglesi!--not but what the Signor Glyndon--"

"Cease!" interrupted the young actress. "Zanoni! Speak of the Englishman
no more."

The carriage was now entering that more lonely and remote part of the
city in which Viola's house was situated, when it suddenly stopped.

Gionetta, in alarm, thrust her head out of the window, and perceived,
by the pale light of the moon, that the driver, torn from his seat, was
already pinioned in the arms of two men; the next moment the door was
opened violently, and a tall figure, masked and mantled, appeared.

"Fear not, fairest Pisani," said he, gently; "no ill shall befall you."
As he spoke, he wound his arm round the form of the fair actress, and
endeavoured to lift her from the carriage. But Gionetta was no ordinary
ally,--she thrust back the assailant with a force that astonished him,
and followed the shock by a volley of the most energetic reprobation.

The mask drew back, and composed his disordered mantle.

"By the body of Bacchus!" said he, hal