the maid-servant, and the cook, and the ostler--the whole establishment,
in fact, collected at the open folding-doors, and watched with delight
the progress of this battle of words. Last of all, a poor little
trembling figure, with pale face and eyes big with fright, crept in, and
stood, hand on heart, a little in advance of the group. I slipped to her
side, and offered her a chair, but she neither answered me nor noticed
my presence. She was staring at her father as a bird stares at a snake,
and seemed unable to realise anything except the terrible fact that he
had followed and found her.

Presently the old man wheeled round, and became aware of his daughter.

"Unhappy girl!" he exclaimed, "what is this that you have done?"

I greatly fear that the marchese's paternal corrections must have
sometimes taken a more practical shape than mere verbal upbraidings; for
poor Bianca shrank back, throwing up one arm, as if to shield her face,
and, with a wild cry of "Alberto! come to me!" fell into the arms
of that tardy lover, who at that appropriate moment had made his
appearance, unobserved, upon the scene.

The polyglot disturbance that ensued baffles all description. Indeed,
I should be puzzled to say exactly what took place, or after how many
commands, defiances, threats, protestations, insults, and explanations,
a semblance of peace was finally restored. I only know that, at the
expiration of a certain time, three of us were sitting by the open
window, in a softened and subdued frame of mind, considerately turning
our backs upon the other two, who were bidding each other farewell at
the farther end of the room.

It was the faithless Johann, as I gathered, who was responsible for
this catastrophe. His heart, it appeared, had failed him when he had
discovered that nothing less than a bona-fide marriage was to be the
outcome of the meetings he had shown so much skill in contriving, and,
full of penitence and alarm, he had written to his old master, divulging
the whole project. It so happened that a recent storm in the mountains
had interrupted telegraphic communication, for the time, between Austria
and Venice, and the only course that had seemed open to Herr von Rosenau
was to start post-haste for the latter place, where, indeed, he would
have arrived a day too late had not Albrecht's colonel seen fit to
postpone his leave. In this latter circumstance also the hand of Johann
seemed discernible. As for the marchese, I sup