ayed too long;
only Enrica had so absorbed him. Nera would have heard the town-talk.
How would she take it? Would she be glad, or sorry, he wondered? Then
came a longing upon Nobili he could not resist, to know if Nera still
loved him. If so, what constancy! It deserved reward. He had treated
her shamefully. How sweet her company would be if she would see him!
At all events, he could but try. At this point he rose and rang the
bell.

When the servant came, Nobili ordered his dinner. He was hungry, he
said, and would eat at once. His carriage he should require later.

CHAPTER IX.

NERA.

Close to the Church of San Michele, where a brazen archangel with
outstretched wings flaunts in the blue sky, is the narrow, crypt-like
street of San Salvador. Here stands the Boccarini Palace. It is an
ancient structure, square and large, with an overhanging roof and
open, pillared gallery. On the first floor there is a stone balcony.
Four rows of windows divide the front. The lower ones, barred with
iron, are dismal to the eye. Over the principal entrance are the
Boccarini arms, carved on a stone escutcheon, supported by two angels,
the whole so moss-eaten the details cannot be traced. Above is a
marquis's coronet in which a swallow has built its nest. Both in and
out it is a house where poverty has set its seal. The family is dying
out. When Marchesa Boccarini dies, the palace will be sold, and the
money divided among her daughters.

As dusk was settling into night a carriage rattled along the deserted
street. The horses--a pair of splendid bays--struck sparks out of the
granite pavement. With a bang they draw up at the entrance, under an
archway, guarded by a _grille_ of rusty iron. A bell is rung; it only
echoes through the gloomy court. The bell was rung again, but no one
came. At last steps were heard, and a dried-up old man, with a face
like parchment, and little ferret eyes, appeared, hastily dragging his
arms into a coat much too large for him.

He shuffled to the front and bowed. Taking a key from his pocket he
unlocked the iron gates, then planted himself on the threshold, and
turned his ear toward the well-appointed brougham, and Count Nobili
seated within.

"Do the ladies receive?" Nobili called out. The old man nodded,
bringing his best ear and ferret eyes to bear upon him.

"Yes, the ladies do receive. Will the excellency descend?"

Count Nobili jumped out and hurried through the archway into a court