ta! Annunciata!" he rushed downstairs. The old man picked
himself up and stole towards Annunciata's apartments, his heart on fire
with the torments of hell. All was quiet, as still as the grave. He
knocked; a strange maid opened the door--not the one who was in the
habit of sleeping near Annunciata's chamber. "What does my princely
husband command at this late and unusual hour?" asked Annunciata in a
calm and sweetly gentle tone, for she had meanwhile thrown on a light
night-robe and was now come forward. Old Falieri stared at her
speechless; then, raising both hands above his head, he cried, "No, it
is not possible, it is not possible." "What is not possible, my
princely sir?" asked Annunciata, startled at the deep solemn tones of
the old man's voice. But Falieri, without answering her question,
turned to the maid, "Why are _you_ sleeping here? why does not Luigia
sleep here as usual?" "Oh!" replied the little one, "Luigia would make
me exchange places with her to-night; she is sleeping in the ante-room
close by the stairs." "Close by the stairs!" echoed Falieri, delighted;
and he hurried away to the ante-room. At his loud knocking Luigia
opened the door; and when she saw the Doge, her master's face inflamed
with rage, and his flashing eyes, she threw herself upon her bare knees
and confessed her shame, which was set beyond all doubt by a pair of
elegant gentleman's gloves lying on the easy-chair, whilst the sweet
scent about them betrayed their dandified owner. Hotly incensed at
Steno's unheard-of impudence, the Doge wrote to him next morning,
forbidding him, on pain of banishment from the town, to approach the
Ducal Palace, or the presence of the Doge and Dogess.

Michele Steno was wild with fury at the failure of his well-planned
scheme, and at the disgrace of being thus banished from the presence of
his idol. Now when he had to see from a distance how gently and kindly
the Dogess spoke to other young men of the Seignory--that was indeed
her natural manner--his envy and the violence of his passion filled his
mind with evil thoughts. The Dogess had without doubt only scorned him
because he had been anticipated by others with better luck; and he had
the hardihood to utter his thoughts openly and publicly. Now whether it
was that old Falieri had tidings of this shameless talk, or whether he
came to look upon the occurrence of that memorable night as the warning
finger of destiny, or whether now, in spite of all his calm