The Lady Adelaide stood at the eastern window of the Purple Room--so called from its magnificent hangings--watching eagerly for the appearance of her husband, it being the day and hour of his expected return. So had she stood since the morning. Ah! what pleasure is there in this world like that of watching for a beloved one! At the opposite end of the apartment were her ladies, engaged upon some fancy work, in those times violently in vogue, like that eternal knitting or crotchet-work is in ours. "Come hither, Lucrezia," said the lady, at length. "Discern you yon trees--groups of them scattered about, and through which an occasional glimpse of the highway may be distinguished? Nay, not there; far, far away in the distance. See you aught?" "Nothing but the road, my lady. And yet, now I look attentively, there seems to be a movement, as of a body of horsemen, Ah! now there is an open space, and they are more distinct. It should be the count, madam, and his followers." "I think it is, Lucrezia," said the Lady Adelaide, calmly, not suffering her emotion to appear in the presence of her maidens, for that haughty girl brooked not that others should read her deep love for Giovanni. "You may return to your embroidery." The Count di Visinara rode at a sharp trot towards his home, followed by his retainers; but when he discerned the form of his wife at the window, he quickened the pace to a gallop, after taking off his plumed cap, and waving his hand towards her in the distance. She pressed her heart to still its throbbing, and waited his approach. She heard him rattle over the drawbridge, and was turning to leave the apartment to welcome him home, when he entered, so great haste had he made. Without observing that she was not alone, he advanced, and, throwing his arms round her, drew aside her fair golden curls, and kissed her repeatedly, like many a man possessed of a lovely wife will kiss, though his love may be far away from her. But she shrank from his embrace, the glowing crimson overspreading her face; and then the count turned and saw they were not alone. At the extreme end of the apartment, out of hearing, but within sight, were the damsels seated over their embroidery. "Gina," murmured one of the girls, still pursuing her work, "what has made you turn so pale? You are as white as Juliette's dress." "Is the Signora Montani ill?" demanded Lucrezia, sharply, for she liked not Gina. "A sudden pain--a spasm in my side," gasped Gina. "It is over now." "Is he not an attractive man?" whispered another of the ladies in Gina's ear. "He?" "The Count di Visinara: _you_ never saw him before. They are well matched for beauty, he and the Lady Adelaide." "Pray attend to your work, and let this gossiping cease," exclaimed Lucrezia, angrily.