All blessed her, and muttered, "Bell’ Idolo!" as she passed forth: indeed, she appeared as enchanting as beauty of the most delicate caste, the richest attire, and most splendid diamonds could make her; and if always lovely, even in the plainest garb, imagine how she must have shone in her magnificent bridal dress, when her eyes beamed with delight and her soft cheek turned alternately deep red and deadly pale, as the blood came and went with the varying thoughts that agitated her—awe and modesty, love and exultation! "Giorno felice, indeed!" thought I; and springing into the carriage beside her, we drove off for the castello, as fast as four galloping horses could take us. The sonorous organ, the chanting priests, the ringing bells, the shouts and discharge of fire-arms, died away behind us; and accompanied by a gay cavalcade of the fairest and noblest in the province, our marriage train swept through the solitary vale of the Angistola at full speed, towards the castle: where a lordly fête awaited us, and from the tall windows of its hall a blaze of light was shed on the darkening scenery and winding river as we rode up the gloomy avenue. *CHAPTER VIII.* *THE TEMPEST—THE LAST OF THE HUNCHBACK.* Leaving Santugo and his bride with the duchess, we set out next day for Scylla; our calesso having an escort, without which, it was impossible to travel in such a country. Gask occupied the rumble beside Annina, while a chasseur with ten sbirri sent by the duchess, rode five in front and five in the rear; their leader riding some hundred yards in advance. All these men wore the duke’s livery; they were well mounted, and armed with carbines, sabres, and pistols. The calesso was furnished with a loop-hole, opening under the rumble, through which I could blaze away with my pistols, in case of having to retreat skirmishing. The scenery was now beginning to assume the brown warm tints of autumn; but the savage mountain gorges, the deep woods, the winding shore and beetling cliffs, through which the road lay, were not less beautiful than when I passed them before, with poor Castelermo. The ramparts of Monteleone, the bosky forest of Burello, the silver windings of Metramo, the famous vineyards of Rossarno and Gioja were all passed rapidly; and plunging down into the wilderness, between the Apennines and the sea, we had accomplished half our journey, when a tremendous storm overtook us. Our hearts were so full of happiness, and each was so much absorbed in the presence of the other, that we marked not the flight of time; and though our carriage rolled on through the most beautiful scenery of that wild province, we bestowed scarce a glance or a thought upon it. Yet we conversed very little; for an overwhelming sense of happiness had quite subdued Bianca’s vivacity.