darkened, till it was only by the dull lamp which gleamed through the
grimy windows from the yard without, that each saw the face of the other.

Night came on; they heard a clock from some distant church strike the
hours. The dim fire had long since burned out, and the air became
intensely cold. No one broke upon their solitude,--not a voice was heard
in the house. They felt neither cold nor hunger,--they felt but the
solitude, and the silence, and the dread of something that was to come.

At length, about midnight, a bell rang at the street door; then there was
the quick sound of steps, of sullen bolts withdrawn, of low, murmured
voices. Light streamed through the chinks of the door to the apartment,
the door itself opened. Two Italians bearing tapers entered, and the
Count di Peschiera followed.

Beatrice sprang up, and rushed towards her brother. He laid his hand
gently on her lips, and motioned to the Italians to withdraw. They
placed the lights on the table, and vanished without a word.

Peschiera then, putting aside his sister, approached Violante.

"Fair kinswoman," said he, with an air of easy but resolute assurance,
"there are things which no man can excuse, and no woman can pardon,
unless that love, which is beyond all laws, suggests excuse for the one,
and obtains pardon for the other. In a word, I have sworn to win you,
and I have had no opportunities to woo. Fear not; the worst that can
befall you is to be my bride! Stand aside, my sister, stand aside."

"Giulio Franzini, I stand between you and her; you shall strike me to the
earth before you can touch even the hem of her robe!"