me, Nicolo."

The kinsman urged in vain. The dialogue, which was carried on in under
tones, now enforced by animated action, began to attract attention.
The procession was moving forward. The high anthem began to swell, and
Giovanni, wrought to the highest pitch of frenzy by the progress of
events, and by the opposition of Nicolo, now broke away from all
restraint, and hurried through the crowd. The circle, dense and deep,
had already gathered closely about the altar-place, to behold the
ceremony. The desperate youth made his way through it. The crowd gave
way at his approach, and under the decisive pressure of his person.
They knew his mournful history--for when does the history of love's
denial and defeat fail to find its way to the world's curious hearing.
Giovanni was beloved in Venice. Such a history as his and Francesca's
was sure to beget sympathy, particularly with all those who could find
no rich lovers for themselves or daughters, such as Ulric Barberigo.
The fate of the youthful lovers drew all eyes upon the two. A tearful
interest in the event began to pervade the assembly, and Giovanni
really found no such difficulty as would have attended the efforts of
any other person to approach the sacred centre of the bridal circle.
He made his way directly for the spot where Francesca stood. She felt
his approach and presence by the most natural instincts, though
without ever daring to lift her eye to his person. A more deadly
paleness than ever came over her, and as she heard the first sounds of
his voice, she faltered and grasped a column for support. The
Patriarch, startled by the sounds of confusion, rose from the sacred
cushions, and spread his hands over the assembly for silence; but as
yet he failed to conceive the occasion for commotion. Meanwhile, the
parents and relatives of Francesca had gathered around her person, as
if to guard her from an enemy. Ulric Barberigo, the millionaire, put
on the aspect of a man whose word was law on 'change. He, too, had his
retainers, all looking daggers at the intruder. Fortunately for
Giovanni, they were permitted to wear none at these peaceful
ceremonials. Their looks of wrath did not discourage the approach of
our lover. He did not seem, indeed, to see them, but gently putting
them by, he drew near to the scarcely conscious maiden. He lifted the
almost lifeless hand from her side, and pressing it within both his
own, a proceeding which her mother vainly endeavored to pre