The eyes of the assembly were bent upon him, and in wonder, too, at
the threadbare coat and emaciated countenance, which told but too
plainly the tale of hunger and want he had suffered. And so it was,
as the reader has seen. Carlton was too proud to make known his
necessities, and he had suffered most incredibly from want.

Hardly had Carlton spoken in answer to the question of the duke,
when there was a visible commotion among the high-born dames that
surrounded his seat, and one was carried by the attendants from the
apartment fainting. It was the duke's, ward, the Signora Florinda.
The surprise and delight which crowded itself upon her gentle
sensibility, was too much for her to bear, and she sank insensible
into the arms of those about her.

"What so strangely affected the Signora Florinda?" asked the duke.

"We know not, your highness," replied one of her late companions.
"She seemed regarding this young artist at the moment when she was
taken ill."

"Singular."

"Very, your highness."

"Hasten after her, and return and let me know how she is."

"Si, excellenza."

"Say I will join her anon."