hurriedly on, unconscious of the time, the place, and even the
rude glances bestowed upon her by many who gazed at her with an insolent
admiration. What an armor is innocence! how proof against the venomed
dart of malice? Kate never knew the ordeal through which she was
passing. She neither saw the looks nor heard the comments of those
that passed. If her mind ever turned from the throng of thoughts that
oppressed it, it was when some momentary difficulty of the way recalled
her to herself; for, as she escaped from the smaller streets, the crowd
and crash increased, and she found herself borne along as in a strong
current.

"Does this lead to the Piazza Annunziata?" asked she of a woman at a
fruit-stall.

"Tell her, Giacomo," said the woman to a youth, who, with a water-melon
in his hand, lay at full length on the pavement.

"Per Baccho! but she 's handsome!" said he, holding up the paper lantern
to gaze at her. And Kate hurried on in terror.

CHAPTER XXXVI. A STREET RENCONTRE

LADY HESTER ONSLOW had passed a day of martyrdom. There was scarcely
a single contrariety in the long catalogue of annoyances which had not
fallen to her share. Her servants, habitually disciplined to perfection,
had admitted every bore of her acquaintance, while, to the few she
really wished to see, admittance had been denied. The rumor of an
approaching departure had got wind through the servants, and the
hall and the courtyard were crowded with creditors, duns, and begging
impostors of every age and class and country. It seemed as if every
one with a petition or a bill, an unsatisfied complaint or an unsettled
balance, had given each other a general rendezvous that morning at the
Mazzarini Palace.

It is well known how the most obsequious tradespeople grow peremptory
when passports are signed and posthorses are harnessed. The bland
courteousness with which they receive "your Ladyship's orders" undergoes
a terrible change. Departure is the next thing to death. Another country
sounds like another world. The deferential bashfulness that could not
hint at the mention of money, now talks boldly of his debt. The solvent
creditor, who said always "at your convenience," has suddenly a most
pressing call "to make up a large sum by Saturday."

All the little cajoleries and coquetries, all the little seductions and
temptations of trade, are given up. The invitations to buy are converted
into suggestions for "cash payment." It is very provok