"What!" cried the signora, her cheeks inflamed, and her brow darkening, "do you dare to avow your shame to my face?" "It is no shame," answered Gina, sadly; there is nothing of guilt in such a love as mine." "Follow me," repeated Lucrezia. "You have no time to waste in lamentations." "By whose orders do I die?" demanded the indignant girl. "Not by _his_; and no one else has a right to condemn me." Lucrezia expected this, and was prepared. Alas, that the Lord of Visinara should that day have left his signet ring behind him! "Do you know this ring!" demanded Lucrezia, holding out the jewel. "Too well. It is the Count of Visinara’s." "You may then know who has condemned you." "Oh, Giovanni!" wailed Gina, as she sank prostrate on the floor in her anguish, "this from you!" All idea of resistance vanished with the thought that it was him she so loved who doomed her to destruction. "I thought he was still at the Capella Palace," she inquired, looking up at Lucrezia, a doubt possibly finding its way to her heart. "When did he return?" "I came not to waste the moments in idle words," returned Lucrezia, as she prepared to utter the falsehood; "it is sufficient for you to know that he _has_ returned, and has given the orders that you seem inclined to resist." "Implore him to come to me for one moment, for a last farewell." "I may not ask it. He is with the Lady Adelaide." "First, my happiness, then, my life, sacrificed to appease the Lady Adelaide! Oh, Giovanni! false, but dear Giovanni—" "I have no orders to call those who will use violence," interrupted the signora, "but I must do so if you delay to follow me." "I am about to dress myself," returned Gina. "The dress you have on will serve as well as another—and better, for a night-gown bears some resemblance to a shroud." "One moment for prayer," was the next imploring petition. "Prayer for you!" broke contemptuously from the signora. "A single moment for prayer," reiterated the victim. "If I am, indeed, about to meet my Maker, I stand awfully in need of it; for I have of late worshipped but one, but it has not been Him." "Prayer for _you_, a _heretic_!" repeated Lucrezia; "you may as well offer it up to blocks of wood or stone. The creed you profess forfeits all inheritance for you in heaven." Yet still Gina repeated it—"A few moments for prayer, in mercy!" "Then pray away where you are going," returned Lucrezia, impatiently. "You will have time enough, and to spare—minutes, and hours, and days, perhaps."