hou here to die, stranger? See, thy brave
mantle of triple-pile and golden broidery will not save thee from the
gavocciolo. (The tumour that made the fatal symptom.) Ride on, ride
on;--today fit morsel for thy lady's kiss, tomorrow too foul for the rat
and worm!"

Replying not to this hideous welcome, Adrian, for it was he, pursued his
way. The gates stood wide open: this was the most appalling sign of all,
for, at first, the most jealous precaution had been taken against the
ingress of strangers. Now all care, all foresight, all vigilance, were
vain. And thrice nine warders had died at that single post, and the
officers to appoint their successors were dead too! Law and Police, and
the Tribunals of Health, and the Boards of Safety, Death had stopped
them all! And the Plague killed art itself, social union, the harmony
and mechanism of civilization, as if they had been bone and flesh!

So, mute and solitary, went on the lover, in his quest of love, resolved
to find and to save his betrothed, and guided (that faithful and loyal
knight!) through the Wilderness of Horror by the blessed hope of that
strange passion, noblest of all when noble, basest of all when base!
He came into a broad and spacious square lined with palaces, the usual
haunt of the best and most graceful nobility of Italy. The stranger
was alone now, and the tramp of his gallant steed sounded ghastly and
fearful in his own ears, when just as he turned the corner of one of the
streets that led from it, he saw a woman steal forth with a child in her
arms, while another, yet in infancy clung to her robe. She held a large
bunch of flowers to her nostrils, (the fancied and favourite mode to
prevent infection), and muttered to the children, who were moaning with
hunger,--"Yes, yes, you shall have food! Plenty of food now for the
stirring forth. But oh, that stirring forth!"--and she peered about and
round, lest any of the diseased might be near.

"My friend," said he, "can you direct me to the convent of--"

"Away, man, away!" shrieked the woman.

"Alas!" said Adrian, with a mournful smile, "can you not see that I am
not, as yet, one to spread contagion?"

But the woman, unheeding him, fled on; when, after a few paces, she was
arrested by the child that clung to her.

"Mother, mother!" it cried, "I am sick--I cannot stir."

The woman halted, tore aside the child's robe, saw under the arm the
fatal tumour, and, deserting her own flesh, fled with a shriek