t with their
keen susceptibilities) caused them first to cast off the draperies and
clothing, which might retain additional infection. She then despatched
them for new furniture, and for whatsoever leech money might yet bribe
to a duty, now chiefly abandoned to those heroic Brotherhoods who,
however vilified in modern judgment by the crimes of some unworthy
members, were yet, in the dark times, the best, the bravest, and the
holiest agents, to whom God ever delegated the power to resist the
oppressor--to feed the hungry--to minister to woe; and who, alone,
amidst that fiery Pestilence, (loosed, as it were, a demon from the
abyss, to shiver into atoms all that binds the world to Virtue and to
Law,) seemed to awaken, as by the sound of an angel's trumpet, to that
noblest Chivalry of the Cross--whose faith is the scorn of self--whose
hope is beyond the Lazar-house--whose feet, already winded for
immortality, trample, with a conqueror's march, upon the graves of
Death!

While this the ministry and the office of love,--along that street in
which Adrian and Irene had met at last--came singing, reeling, roaring,
the dissolute and abandoned crew who had fixed their quarters in the
Convent of Santa Maria de' Pazzi, their bravo chief at their head, and
a nun (no longer in nun's garments) upon either arm. "A health to the
Plague!" shouted the ruffian: "A health to the Plague!" echoed his
frantic Bacchanals.

"A health to the Plague, may she ever, as now, Loose the rogue from his
chain, and the nun from her vow; To the gaoler a sword--to the captive a
key, Hurrah for Earth's Curse! 'tis a blessing to me."

"Holla!" cried the chief, stopping; "here, Margherita; here's a brave
cloak for thee, my girl: silver enow on it to fill thy purse, if it ever
grow empty; which it may, if ever the Plague grow slack."

"Nay," said the girl, who, amidst all the havoc of debauch, retained
much of youth and beauty in her form and face; "nay, Guidotto; perhaps it
has infection."

"Pooh, child, silver never infects. Clap it on, clap it on. Besides,
fate is fate, and when it is thine hour there will be other means
besides the gavocciolo."

So saying, he seized the mantle, threw it roughly over her shoulders,
and dragged her on as before, half pleased with the finery, half
frightened with the danger; while gradually died away, along the lurid
air and the mournful streets, the chant of that most miserable mirth.

Chapter 6.V. The Error.

F