The count paused.  He bowed his head toward the sarcophagus before which they were gathered, in a mute tribute of reverence.  After a few minutes of rapt silence he resumed: 

“When the multitude heard that name, ten thousand thousand voices echoed it.  ‘Father of his Country!’ resounded to the summits of the surrounding Apennines.  The mountain-tops tossed it to and fro—­the caves thundered it—­the very heavens bore it aloft to distant hemispheres!  Our great soldier, overcome by such overwhelming marks of affection, expressed in every look and gesture how deeply he was moved.  Before leaving the piazza, Castruccio was joined by his relative, young Paolo Guinigi!—­after his decease to become dictator, and Lord of Lucca.  Amid the clash of arms, the braying of trumpets, and the applause of thousands, they cordially embraced.  They were fast friends as well as cousins.  Our Castruccio was of a type incapable of jealousy.  Paolo was a patriot—­that was enough.  Together they proceeded to the cathedral of San Martino.  At the porch Castruccio was received by the archbishop and the assembled clergy.  He was placed in a chair of carved ivory, and carried in triumph up the nave to the chapel of the Holy Countenance.  Here he descended, and, while he prostrated himself before the miraculous image, hymns and songs of praise burst from the choir.”

“Such, Signorina Enrica,” said the count, turning toward her, “is a brief outline of the scene that passed within this city of Lucca, before that tomb held the illustrious dust it now contains.”

“Bravo, bravo, count!” exclaimed the mercurial Trenta, in a delighted tone. (He was ready to forgive all the count’s transgressions, in the fervor of the moment.) “That is how I love to hear you talk.  Now you do yourself justice.  Gesu mio! how seldom it is given to a man to be so eloquent!  How can he bring himself to employ such gifts against the infallible Church?” This last remark was addressed to Enrica in a tone too low to be overheard.

“And now,” said the old chamberlain, always on the lookout to marshal every one as he had marshaled every one at court—­“now we will leave the church, and proceed to the Guinigi Tower.”

CHAPTER III.

THE GUINIGI TOWER.

Count Marescotti, by reason of too much imagination, and Baldassare, by reason of too little, were both oblivious; consequently the key and the porter were neither of them forthcoming when the party arrived at the door of the tower, which opened from a side-street behind and apart from the palace.  Both the count and Baldassare ran off to find the man, leaving Trenta alone with Enrica.

“Ahi!” exclaimed the cavaliere, looking after them with a comical smile, “this youth of New Italy!  They have no more brains than a pin.  When I was young, and every city had its own ruler and its own court, I should not have escorted a lady and kept her waiting outside in the sun.  Bah! those were not the manners of my day.  At the court of the Duke of Lucca ladies were treated like divinities, but now the young men don’t know how to kiss a woman’s hand.”