Return we now to the fair city of flowers--to thee, delightful Florence--vine crowned queen of Tuscany! The summer has come, and the gardens are brilliant with dyes and hues of infinite variety; the hills and the valleys are clothed in their brightest emerald garment--and the Arno winds its peaceful way between banks blushing with choicest fruits of the earth. But, though gay that July scene--though glorious in its splendor that unclouded summer sun, though gorgeous the balconies filled with flowers, and brilliant the parterres of Tuscan roses, yet gloomy was the countenance and dark were the thoughts of the Count of Arestino, as he paced with agitated steps one of the splendid apartments of his palace. The old man was actually endowed with a good, a generous, a kind and forgiving disposition; but the infidelity of his wife, the being on whom he had so doted, and who was once his joy and his pride--that infidelity had warped his best feelings, soured his temper, and aroused the dark spirit of vengeance. "She lives! she lives!" he murmured to himself, pausing for a moment to press his feverish hand to his heated brow; "she lives! and doubtless under the protection of her paramour! But I shall know more presently. Antonio is faithful--he will not deceive me!" And the count resumed his agitated walk up and down the room. A few minutes elapsed, when the door opened slowly, and Antonio, whom the reader may remember to have been a valet in the service of the Riverola family, made his appearance. The count hastened toward him, exclaiming: "What news, Antonio? Speak--hast thou learnt aught more of--of _her_?" "My lord," answered the valet, closing the door behind him, "I have ascertained everything. The individual who spoke darkly and mysteriously to me last evening, has within this hour made me acquainted with many strange things." "But the countess?--I mean the guilty, fallen creature who once bore my name?" ejaculated the old nobleman, his voice trembling with impatience. "There is no doubt, my lord, that her ladyship lives, and that she is still in Florence," answered Antonio. "The shameless woman," cried the Count of Arestino, his usually pale face becoming perfectly death-like through the violence of his inward emotions. "But how know you all this?" demanded his lordship, suddenly turning toward the dependent; "who is your informant--and can he be relied on? Remember I took thee into my service at thine own solicitation--I have no guarantee for thy fidelity, and I am influential to punish as well as rich to reward!" "Your lordship has bound me to you by ties of gratitude," responded Antonio, "for when discarded suddenly by the young Count of Riverola, I found an asylum and employment in your lordship's palace. It is your lordship's bounty which has enabled me to give bread to my aged mother; and I should be a villain were I to deceive you."