She did not venture to resist, for he spoke in a tone she had heard once before, and she knew that when he used it he would bear no opposition. But a few minutes after, a cry ran through the rooms that the Countess Visconti had fainted. "Bear her to my daughter's saloon!" cried Ramiro d'Orco, as Lorenzo caught up Eloise in his arms; "bear her to my daughter's saloon! She will soon recover. Here, follow me--make way, gentlemen! All the lady requires is cooler air; the rooms are too crowded." "This way, Signor Visconti," said Leonora; and in a few moments Eloise was laid upon a couch, and the door closed to prevent the intrusion of the crowd. It was very like death; and Lorenzo and Leonora looked upon her with strange and mingled sensations. There lay the only obstacle to their happiness, pale and ashy as a faded flower. Seldom has the slumber of the grave been better mocked; and yet the sight had a saddening and heart-purifying effect on both. So young--so beautiful--so sweet and innocent-looking in that still sleep! They could not, they did not wish that so bright a link in the chain which bound both to the pillar of an evil destiny should be rudely severed. The maids who had been called tried in vain to bring her back to consciousness; and Ramiro d'Orco, who had been gazing too with sensations differing from any in the breasts of those around him, called the girls aside, and bade them seek the friar. "He is skilled in medicinal arts," he said; "fetch him instantly." Leonora pointed to the inanimate form of her lover's wife, and said in a low tone-- "Look there, Lorenzo! Is it not sad? There is but one thing to be done. I will take refuge in a convent, lest evil dreams should come into our hearts." "O forbear! forbear yet awhile!" said Lorenzo; but, ere he could add more, Ramiro d'Orco had returned to their side; and a few minutes after, Friar Peter was in the room. He approached the couch with a quiet, stealthy step, gazed on the face of Eloise, laid his hand upon the pulse, and, taking a cup of water from one of the maids, dropped some pale fluid into it from a phial, and, raising the head of his patient, poured it into her mouth. "She will revive in a moment," he said; "that is a sovereign cure for such affections of this bodily frame. Oppression of the spirit may be harder to reach, and, I should think, in this case there is something weighing heavy on the heart or mind." Lorenzo kept silence, though he thought that the friar had perhaps divined aright. At all events, his remedy, whatever it was, proved effectual. After about a minute, Eloise opened her eyes, and looked around her faintly. "Where am I?" she said. "Oh, is that you, Leonora?" "How are you, madame," said Ramiro d'Orco; "you have swooned from the crowded rooms and overheated air. I trust you will be quite well shortly." "I am better," she said, "much better, but very weak; I would fain go home. Let some one bring my litter."