nobility of Florence flocked to the bridal of its wealthy lord. It was a
fair sight to see the stately mirrors which spread their shining
surfaces between pillars of polished marble reflecting the gay
assemblage, that, radiant with jewels, promenaded the saloon, or
wreathed the dance to the witching music of the most skilful minstrels
in all Tuscany. Every lattice was open, and the eye, far as it could
reach, wandered through illuminated gardens, tenanted by gay groups,
where the flush of the roses, the silver stars of the jasmine, the
crimson, purple, orange, and blue of the variegated parterre were
revealed as if the brightest blaze of day flashed upon their silken
leaves. Amid all this pomp of beauty and splendour the bride moved
along, surpassing all that was fair and resplendent around her by the
exceeding loveliness of a face and form to which every eye and every
heart paid involuntary homage. At her side appeared the exulting
bridegroom, to whom, however, more it should seem through diffidence
than aversion, her eyes were never raised; for though Count Alberoni had
advanced beyond the middle age of life, yet he still retained the
majestic port and commanding lineaments for which he had been
distinguished in early youth; his riches rendered him all potent in
Florence, and none dared dispute with him the possession of its fairest
flower. Intoxicated with the pleasures offered at the banquet and the
ball, whatever of envy or of jealousy might have been hidden in the
bosoms of the guests while contemplating the treasure which the
triumphant Alberoni had snatched from contending suitors, it was
concealed, and the most cheerful hilarity prevailed. Yet, amid the
general expression of happiness, there were two persons who, attracting
notice by the meanness of their attire, and the melancholy gloom upon
their countenances, seemed to be out of place in so stately and so
joyous an assembly. They were brother and sister, the descendants of
Ghibellines who had died in exile, and distant relations of the Count,