Not, however, to that hall did the party bend its way, but to the entrance which admitted to the private apartments of the palace.  And here the pomp, the gaud, the more than regal magnificence, of the residence of the Tribune, strongly contrasted the patriarchal simplicity which marked his justice court.

Even Ursula, not unaccustomed, of yore, to the luxurious state of Italian and French principalities, seemed roused into surprise at the hall crowded with retainers in costly liveries, the marble and gilded columns wreathed with flowers, and the gorgeous banners wrought with the blended arms of the Republican City and the Pontifical See, which blazed aloft and around.

Scarce knowing whom to address in such an assemblage, Ursula was relieved from her perplexity by an officer attired in a suit of crimson and gold, who, with a grave and formal decorum, which indeed reigned throughout the whole retinue, demanded, respectfully, whom she sought?  “The Signora Nina!” replied Ursula, drawing up her stately person, with a natural, though somewhat antiquated, dignity.  There was something foreign in the accent, which influenced the officer’s answer.

“Today, madam, I fear that the Signora receives only the Roman ladies.  Tomorrow is that appointed for all foreign dames of distinction.”

Ursula, with a slight impatience of tone, replied—­“My business is of that nature which is welcome on any day, at palaces.  I come, Signor, to lay certain presents at the Signora’s feet, which I trust she will deign to accept.”

“And say, Signor,” added the boy, abruptly, “that Angelo Villani, whom the Lady Nina honoured yesterday with her notice, is no stranger but a Roman; and comes, as she bade him, to proffer to the Signora his homage and devotion.”

The grave officer could not refrain a smile at the pert, yet not ungraceful, boldness of the boy.

“I remember me, Master Angelo Villani,” he replied, “that the Lady Nina spoke to you by the great staircase.  Madam, I will do your errand.  Please to follow me to an apartment more fitting your sex and seeming.”

With that the officer led the way across the hall to a broad staircase of white marble, along the centre of which were laid those rich Eastern carpets which at that day, when rushes strewed the chambers of an English monarch, were already common to the greater luxury of Italian palaces.  Opening a door at the first flight, he ushered Ursula and her young charge into a lofty ante-chamber, hung with arras of wrought velvets; while over the opposite door, through which the officer now vanished, were blazoned the armorial bearings which the Tribune so constantly introduced in all his pomp, not more from the love of show, than from his politic desire to mingle with the keys of the Pontiff the heraldic insignia of the Republic.

“Philip of Valois is not housed like this man!” muttered Ursula.  “If this last, I shall have done better for my charge than I recked of.”