ress a
turbulent assemblage of citizens that seemed bent on immediate battle.
Yet the lady Beatrice spoke to all those fierce and eager people as
sweetly and as quietly as if she had been welcoming her father's guests
in her father's house. What she said was to the effect that she
entreated all those that were about her to have patience, even as she
would have patience. She further said that a great wrong had been done
to her, for it was indeed true that she had plighted her troth to Messer
Dante there present, though this had been done in secret, for which
secrecy she now asked her father's forgiveness, but that when her father
desired her to marry Messer Simone, she had refused to wed another than
the man she loved, whatever might come of it. Then she said she had been
told of Dante's death, and had no further strength left in her to
disobey her father's wishes, seeing that if her lover were indeed dead,
she had no care for what might become of her. Now she appealed to her
father and to the people of her city to take her strange and sad case
into their hands, and to protect her until it was made plain that she
had been wrought upon by fraud and cunning, and forced by false
representations into a marriage that should never have taken place and
should now be annulled.

All the people marvelled to hear her speak so calmly and so wisely, and
the most part of them applauded her when she had done speaking, and
Messer Folco, for all his anger and his wounded pride, was touched by
her words, and extended his hand to her, and she came to him and stood
by his side. But Messer Simone and Messer Simone's people would have
none of the proposal, and shouted loudly against it, and it seemed as if
the brawl were likely to begin again on the instant, and I am very sure
it would have done so had it not been for the arrival of the Priors of
the city with an armed following. These kept the two opposing parties
asunder, and the Captain of the People of the city demanded to know the
meaning of what had happened, and Messer Guido Cavalcanti began to tell
him the tale.

Now, while he did so, and while all were listening to him in silence,
Messer Dante, who was standing very still and stern, with his hands
resting upon the hilt of his sword, felt that one plucked him by the
garment, and, turning, found that a woman stood at his side with a hood
drawn closely over her face. This woman told him, in a low voice that
seemed to him familiar, tha