Geronimo had never before seen Mary dressed in this style.  On the contrary, she generally wore dark or unobtrusive colors.  Decked as she now was in pure white, she had the appearance of a bride.  It was, of course, by her father’s request; but what did it mean?  Did he intend by this to make it known that Mary was betrothed, and would soon be wedded?  Such thoughts as these agitated Geronimo as the young girl accompanied her father into the room.

The old Deodati rose and advanced to meet her.  Simon Turchi took advantage of this movement to retire a short distance; for, as his eye fell on the beautiful girl, rage filled his heart as he reflected that this noble and pure woman would have been his wife had not Geronimo blasted the happiness of his life.

The lightning-like glance of hate and envy which he cast upon Geronimo was a sinister menace of death.  Happily for him, all eyes were turned towards the young girl, otherwise many a one might have read the dark soul of Simon Turchi and discovered the horrible design he had conceived.

Mr. Van de Werve introduced his daughter to his guests.  All expressed in courteous terms their admiration and their pleasure in her society.

The noble young girl received the felicitations and compliments addressed to her with a gentle and dignified self-possession.  There were in her manner and tone of voice a rare modesty and reserve, and at the same time an exquisite politeness.  Still more astonishing was her rich and varied knowledge.  Whether conversing with a Spaniard, Frenchman, Italian, or German, she spoke to each in his own tongue; but the beautiful Italian language assumed additional sweetness on her lips.

When presented to the old Deodati, she took both his hands and spoke to him so tenderly and affectionately that, overcome by emotion, he could only say a few grateful words in acknowledgment.

Passing by Simon Turchi, she said cheerfully: 

“God be praised, Signor Turchi, that your health is so soon restored!  I am happy to see you here this evening.  I am sincerely grateful to you, signor, for the friendship you manifest to the nephew of Signor Deodati.  You have a good and generous heart, and I thank God for having given so devoted a friend to Geronimo and his uncle!”

The gentle words of the young girl were intolerable torture to Turchi; the wound on his face, betraying his emotion, became of a deep-red color.  And yet it was absolutely necessary for him to appear calm, and to reply cordially to the kind salutation of the young girl; for there were at least twenty persons near him and within hearing of what passed.

By a powerful effort he mastered his emotion, referring it to the impression made upon him by her appearance.  He spoke also of sacrifices, which, even when voluntarily made, painfully wound the heart; of a self-abnegation which could find its consolation in the happiness of a friend, but which failed not to leave a sting in the soul that had cherished fallacious hopes.