The knight in rusty armour having concluded his story, all three sat for some time silent and meditative,--till at length Theobaldo began to speak. “The cureless wounds of unfortunate love; the loss, or, much more, the changed heart of one whom we held most dear, and to whom, though changed, we yet feel an unconquerable attachment, are indeed among the most fearful causes of distress to which we are in this life subjected. I remember a story somewhat alike in this respect to that which we have now heard; and if my worthy companions are inclined to listen, am ready to narrate it.” Both knights assured him that they would be deeply attentive, and he proceeded as follows:--“It may be about twenty-five or thirty years since there lived, in my native town of Milan, a young maiden, who was not only amiable in temper, but such a paragon of beauty, as only some great master in painting, or sculpture, could imagine in a summer night’s dream. At the same time she was modest, quiet, retired, and humble; though, notwithstanding this disposition, as a diamond will shine even amid the deepest shade, she became known and admired through the whole town, under the name of the beautiful Lisberta. This flower of the Milanese damsels was one day invited to make her appearance, adorned with garlands and in festal attire, at a religious procession, in order that her extraordinary charms might heighten its effect on beholders; and, as she considered this but as the fulfilment of a pious duty, she agreed to the request which had been urged upon her. She, therefore, adorned herself in the best manner with the richest dress, flowers, jewels, rings, and gold chains,--finishing her toilette, however, long before the procession was ready to commence; so that, having some time at her own disposal, and invited by the pleasant fragrant air of spring, she resolved to take a walk in the garden, which had been tastefully laid out round her father’s house, who was one of the richest men in Milan.