Giovanni and his wife remained at the window, with their backs towards the damsels. She suffered her hand to remain in his--they could not see _that_--and conversed with him in a confidential tone. Then she began chattering to him of her new attendant, telling how lovely she was, when a servant entered and announced the mid-day meal. "Now you shall see my favorite," she exclaimed, as he took her hand to conduct her to the banquet-hall. "I will stop as I pass them, to look at their work, and you shall tell me if you do not think her very beautiful." "Scarcely, Adelaide, when beside you." "She is about my age," ran on Adelaide, whose spirits were raised to exuberance. But it had never entered the mind of that haughty lady to imagine the possibility of the Lord of Visinara, _her husband_, looking upon an attendant of hers with an eye of real admiration; or she might not have discussed their personal merits. "How do you get on with the work, Lucrezia?" demanded the Lady Adelaide, stopping close to her attendants. "Favorably, madam," answered the signora, rising from her seat. "That is a beautiful part that you are engaged upon, Gina. Bring it forward, that we may exhibit our handiwork." Gina Montani, without raising her eyes, and trembling inwardly and outwardly, rose, and advanced with the embroidery. The Signora Lucrezia eyed her, covertly. "Is it not a handsome pattern?" exclaimed Adelaide, her thoughts now really occupied with the beauty of the work. "And I was so industrious while you were away, Giovanni. I did a good portion of this myself--I did, indeed; all the shadings of the rosebuds are my doing, and those interlaces of silver." The Lady Adelaide stopped, for, on looking to his face for approbation, she was startled by the frightful pallor which had overspread it. "Oh, Giovanni, you are ill!--my husband, what is it? Giovanni--" "It is nothing," interrupted the count, leading her hurriedly from the room. "I rode hard, and the sun was hot. A cup of wine will restore me." But not less awake to this emotion of the count's than she had been to Gina's, was the Signora Lucrezia, and she came to the conclusion that there was some unaccountable mystery at the bottom of it, which she determined to do all in her power to find out. VII. Days passed. The count had not yet seen Gina alone, though he had sought for the opportunity; but one morning when he entered the Lady Adelaide's embroidery room--so called--Gina sat there alone, sorting silks. He did not observe her at the first moment, and, being in search of his wife, called to her, "Adelaide!" "The Lady Adelaide is not here, signor," was Gina's reply, as she rose from her seat. "Gina," he said, advancing cautiously, and speaking in an under tone, "what in the name of all the saints brought you here--an inmate of my castle--the attendant of the Lady Adelaide?"