It must be remembered, too, that he was very young; that his early life had been clouded with misfortune, teaching the young heart the sad lesson of apprehension; that, since fortune had smiled upon him again, he had found none to love till he had met with the dear girl who had given her whole soul to him, and to whom his whole soul had been given in return; that by the very intensity of their passion they stood, as it were, alone and separate from the rest of mankind, relying, dependent upon, and wrapped up in each other, and that for four long months they had neither seen nor held any communication with each other. It will be easily understood how, on the return of his courier from Florence, agitation shook him to the very soul. He would gladly have started up and run down to meet the messenger; but fear of the laugh of his companions restrained him, and he sat mastering his emotions as best he could. Antonio was not long ere he ascended, however. His horse's bridle was thrown over the hook in the wall, a few brief words with the servant in the gateway followed, and then his light, agile step was heard coming up the stairs. "God save you, my lord!" said Antonio, entering the room, "here is a packet from your fair lady." "Did you see her? Is she well? Is she happy?" asked Lorenzo, cutting the silken threads, which bound the letter, with his dagger. "I did see her, my lord, and she is quite well, but not happy, thank God!" said Antonio, in his usual quaint way. "Not happy?" said Lorenzo, pausing just as he had begun to read; "not happy?" "Yes, my lord, not happy. Heaven forbid that she should be over happy while you are away. Oh, she told me a long and very pitiful tale of how miserable she had been, thinking of how often you had been killed and wounded in the great battles and sieges that never took place between Rome and Naples. Seven times she dreamed you were dead, and had all the trouble of burying you over and over again." "Hush, hush, my good friend Antonio; I am in no mood for such bantering just now," said Lorenzo, and turned to his letter again. But the pertinacious Antonio, though he left his young lord to read, could not help pouring forth some of the joyful fun, which welled up in his heart whenever he was the bearer of good news, upon his master's young friend, De Terrail. "By the bones of St. Barnabas!" he said, "the lady was looking sad enough when I first found her out, perched up on the high terrace overlooking the Mugnione, but when she saw me, she had nearly jumped out of the window with joy. But when I told her my lord was well, and that I had brought her a letter from him, I thought she would have kissed me--all for joy too. Well, she did not, or I should not have dared to come back again, for murder and kisses will come out some way."