“It was towards the end of the reign of Cosmo the Great, about the commencement of the year 1563, that a young man named Pietro Bonaventuri, the issue of a family respectable, though poor, left Florence to seek his fortune in Venice.  An uncle who bore the same name as himself, and who had lived in the latter city for twenty years, recommended him to the bank of the Salviati, of which he himself was one of the managers.  The youth was received in the capacity of clerk.

“Opposite the bank of the Salviati lived a rich Venetian nobleman, head of the house of the Capelli.  He had one son and one daughter, but not by his wife then living, who, in consequence, was stepmother to his children.  With the son, our narrative is not concerned; the daughter, Bianca Capello, was a charming girl of the age of fifteen or sixteen, of a pale complexion, on which the blood, at every emotion, would appear, and pass like a roseate cloud; her hair, of that rich flaxen which Raphael has made so beautiful; her eyes dark and full of lustre, her figure slight and flexile, but of that flexibility which denotes no weakness, but force of character; prompt, as another Juliet, to love, and waiting only till some Romeo should cross her path, to say, like the maid of Verona—­’I will be to thee or to the tomb!’

“She saw Pietro Bonaventuri:  the window of his chamber looked out upon hers; they exchanged glances, signs, promises of love.  Arrived at this point, the distance from each other was their sole obstacle:  this obstacle Bianca was the first to overcome.

“Each night, when all had retired to rest in the house of the Salviati, when the nurse who had reared Bianca, had betaken herself to the next chamber, and the young girl, standing listening against the partition, had assured herself that this last Argus was asleep, she threw over her shoulders a dark cloak to be the less visible in the night, descended on tiptoe, and light as a shadow, the marble stairs of the paternal palace, unbarred the gate, and crossed the street.  On the threshold of the opposite door, her lover was standing to receive her; and the two together, with stifled breath and silent caresses, ascended the stairs that led to the little chamber of Pietro.  Before the break of day, Bianca retired in the same manner to her own room, where her nurse found her in the morning, in a sleep as profound at least as the sleep of innocence.

“One night whilst our Juliet was with her Romeo, a baker’s boy, who had just been to light his oven in the neighbourhood, saw a gate half open, and thought he did good service by closing it.  Ten minutes afterwards, Bianca descended, and saw that it was impossible to re-enter her father’s house.

“Bianca was one of those energetic spirits whose resolutions are taken at once, and for ever.  She saw that her whole future destiny was changed by this one accident, and she accepted