"Bravo, my lad!" exclaimed Sartello. "I find that you are of the true
stuff. So come along; the hour is already near, when she is to change
her name. I feared at first to tell you the tale, but am glad to learn
that my fears were needless."

Gulielmo's burning cheek might have sown the pain which raged within his
breast: but, nevertheless, he accompanied Sartello with a firm and
confident stop till they reached the inn where the guests had already
begun to assemble. In the porch, by the side of Jean Maret, sat Rosa,
with a few flowers in her hair, her countenance as sweet to view as the
first blush of a May morn. But when she met the fiery glance which
Gulielmo cast upon her, she seemed abashed, and half turned toward her
companion, with a silent appeal of the eyes. The priest now arrived, and
all was made ready, Gulielmo looking on with a heated brain, and a
feverish sickness gnawing at his heart. He was only able to see a single
lovely face, in which a sudden sadness seemed to dim its former smiling
grace.

"Why wait we?" bluffly exclaimed Jean Maret. "The priest awaits, the
bride is ready. Gulielmo Massani, come forward; Rosa has chosen you as
bridesman."

"Scoundrel!" replied Gulielmo, "dare no jests with me, else your life
may fail you before your wedding is over."

"My wedding may be near at hand," returned Jean; "but I fear much that
Rosa will hardly be my bride. Go, fair maid, and lead this stubborn
youth hither. If all else fail, I think that thou wilt be able to hold
him captive."