h of
the man was gone; the happy smile contagious in its brightness; the
pleasant curl of the upper lip raising the fair mustache; the kindling
eye so capable of tenderness. His expression was of a man undergoing a
terrible ordeal; defiance, shame, anger, contended on his face.

There was something in the studied negligence of Count Nobili's
appearance that irritated the marchesa to the last degree of
endurance. She bridled with rage, and exchanged a significant glance
with Guglielmi.

Footsteps were now heard coming from the sala. It was Enrica, led
by the cavaliere. Enrica was whiter than her bridal veil. She had
suffered Pipa to array her as she pleased, without a word. Her hair
was arranged in a coronet upon her head; a whole sheaf of golden curls
hung down from it behind. There were the exquisite symmetry of form,
the natural grace, the dreamy beauty--all the soft harmony of color
upon her oval face--but the freshness of girlhood was gone. Enrica had
made a desperate effort to be calm. Nobili was under the same roof--in
the same room--Nobili was beside her. Would he not show some sign
that he still loved her?--Else why had he come?--One glance at him was
enough. Oh! he was changed!--She could not bear it. Enrica would have
fled had not Trenta held her. The marchesa, too, advanced a step or
two, and cast upon her a look so menacing that it filled her with
terror. Trembling all over, Enrica clung to the cavaliere. He led her
gently forward, and placed her beside Count Nobili standing at the
altar. Thus unsupported, Enrica tottered--she seemed about to fall. No
hand was stretched out to help her.

Nobili had turned visibly pale as Enrica entered. His face was
averted. The witnesses, Adamo and Silvestro, ranged themselves on
either side. The marchesa and Maestro Guglielmi drew nearer to the
altar. Angelo waved the censer, walking to and fro before the rails.
Pipa peeped in at the open doorway. Her eyes were red with weeping.
Pipa looked round aghast.

"What a marriage was this! More like a death than a marriage! She
would not have married so--not if it had cost her her life--no music,
no rose-leaves, no dance, no wine. None had even changed their clothes
but the cavaliere and the signorina. And a bridegroom like that!--a
statue--not a living man! And the signorina--poverina--hardly able to
stand upon her feet! The signorina would be sure to faint, she was so
weak."

Pipa had to muffle her face in her handkerchie