the
Marchesa Guinigi as a most awful lady. If Fra Pacifico had not caught
him within his little office near the _cafe_, rather than have faced
her, Ser Giacomo would have run away.

The door opened, and Enrica stood upon the threshold. There was an
air of innocent triumph about her. She had bound a blue ribbon in her
golden curls, and placed a rose in the band that encircled her slight
waist. Enrica was, in truth, but a common mortal, but she looked so
fresh, and bright, and young, with such tender, trusting eyes--there
was such an aureole of purity about her, she might have passed for a
virgin saint.

As he caught sight of Enrica, the moody expression on Count Nobili's
face changed, and broke into a smile. In her presence he forgot the
marchesa. Was not such a prize worthy of any battle? What did
it signify to him if Enrica were called Guinigi? And as to those
tumbledown palaces and heirlooms--what of them? He could buy scores
of old palaces any day if he chose. Quickly he stepped forward to meet
her as she entered. Fra Pacifico rose, and with great solemnity signed
them both with a thrice-repeated cross, then he placed Enrica's hand
in Nobili's. The count raised it to his lips, and kissed it fervently.

"My Enrica," he whispered, "this is a glorious day!"

"Oh, it is heavenly!" she answered back, softly.

The marchesa's white face darkened as she looked at Enrica. How dared
Enrica be so happy? But she repressed the reproaches that rose to
her lips, though her heart swelled to bursting, and the veins in her
forehead distended with rage.

"Can Enrica be of my flesh and blood?" exclaimed the marchesa in a low
voice to the cavaliere who now stood at her side. "Fool! she believes
in her lover! It is a horrible sacrifice! Mark my words--a horrible
sacrifice!"

Nobili and Enrica had taken their places behind the notary. The
slanting shadows from the open door struck upon them with deeper
gloom, and the low murmur of the fountain seemed now to form itself
into a moan.

"Do I sign here?" asked Count Nobili.

Ser Giacomo trembled like a leaf.

"Yes, excellency, you sign here," he stammered, pointing to the
precise spot; but Ser Giacomo looked so terrified that Nobili,
forgetting where he was, laughed out loud and turned to Enrica, who
laughed also.

"Stop that unseemly mirth," called out the marchesa from the sofa;
"it is most indecent. Let the act that buries a great name at least be
conducted with decorum."