Around the white neck of Bianca, I threw the riband with the gold medal presented to me by Cardinal York, whose kindness had restored Francesca to light and life; and the sweet girl kissed it, promising to treasure it for his sake and mine. She appeared so beautiful, so blooming and happy, as she hung upon my shoulder in the recess of a lofty window, with the light of the western sky streaming on her bright curls and glittering dress; and Santugo seemed so much absorbed in the presence of her sister, who was seated between him and his mother, with a hand clasped fondly by each; that I was loath to disturb the happy group and blight their general joy, by speaking of Guelfo: but the appearance of Gismondo’s company marching along the marino, and the advanced hour of the evening, made it imperative that arrangements should be made for fighting or flying. All changed colour when I mentioned Castelguelfo: Santugo’s brow grew black, and his mother burst into tears. "O, Luigi! to remain would be madness, when Giacomo and all our people are serving as soldiers at Reggio!" she exclaimed. "It ill beseems you, signora, to counsel me to my dishonour;" replied the fierce young man, with singular hauteur, while his lip quivered and his dark eyes shone with fire. "Like all the family of Amato, Dionisio is a coward at heart, and a rebel Buonapartist; and shall I, who am esteemed among the bravest and most patriotic of our noblesse, fly before a base leaguer with banditti? Never! With Gismondo’s Calabri, and the armed men I can collect on an hour’s notice, to the last will I defend my father-house; fighting from chamber to chamber and story to story, and die rather than yield, even should Guelfo involve the whole fabric in flames and destruction." "Ammirando!" exclaimed Gismondo, entering, "you speak as I expected to hear the son of my old comrade; whose honours you will never tarnish. Courage, ladies! One hundred and fifty bayonets are here, under my orders; and with Madonna’s blessing, and our own hands, the Wolf may fall into as great a snare as old Amadeo did in the days of poor Campanella." The viscontessa shuddered: but her son took down his sword from the wall. "Dundas," said he; "to you, who are a soldier of greater experience than any here (not even excepting our old guerilla, Gismondo), I look principally for advice during this night’s uproar. Come, signor, leave Bianca, and loosen your sabre in its sheath. Ladies, away to your mandolins and embroidery, or to ave and credo; your presence alone unmans me. Ola, Zaccheo! where the devil is my old courier tarrying now? Bolt and barricade every door and window, and muster and arm the valets. Even the little ragazzo must handle a musket to-night." "Had we not better send a horseman to the Royal Reggitore of Nicastro for aid?" "An insolent Sicilian dog!" replied Santugo. "No, no; we must trust to Heaven and our own bravery."