But, had the room in itself seemed somewhat too fantastic and overcharged in its prodigal ornaments, the form and face of Nina would at once have rendered all appropriate; so completely did she seem the natural Spirit of the Place; so wonderfully did her beauty, elated as it now was with contented love, gratified vanity, exultant hope, body forth the brightest vision that ever floated before the eyes of Tasso, when he wrought into one immortal shape the glory of the Enchantress with the allurements of the Woman.

Nina half rose as she saw Ursula, whose sedate and mournful features involuntarily testified her surprise and admiration at a loveliness so rare and striking, but who, undazzled by the splendour around, soon recovered her wonted self-composure, and seated herself on the cushion to which Nina pointed, while the young visitor remained standing, and spell-bound by childish wonder, in the centre of the apartment.  Nina recognised him with a smile.

“Ah, my pretty boy, whose quick eye and bold air caught my fancy yesterday!  Have you come to accept my offer?  Is it you, madam, who claim this fair child?”

“Lady,” replied Ursula, “my business here is brief:  by a train of events, needless to weary you with narrating, this boy from his infancy fell to my charge—­a weighty and anxious trust to one whose thoughts are beyond the barrier of life.  I have reared him as became a youth of gentle blood; for on both sides, lady, he is noble, though an orphan, motherless and sireless.”

“Poor child!” said Nina, compassionately.

“Growing now,” continued Ursula, “oppressed by years, and desirous only to make my peace with Heaven, I journeyed hither some months since, in the design to place the boy with a relation of mine; and, that trust fulfilled, to take the vows in the City of the Apostle.  Alas!  I found my kinsman dead, and a baron of wild and dissolute character was his heir.  Here remaining, perplexed and anxious, it seemed to me the voice of Providence when, yester-evening, the child told me you had been pleased to honour him with your notice.  Like the rest of Rome, he has already learned enthusiasm for the Tribune—­devotion to the Tribune’s bride.  Will you, in truth, admit him of your household?  He will not dishonour your protection by his blood, nor, I trust, by his bearing.”

“I would take his face for his guarantee, madam, even without so distinguished a recommendation as your own.  Is he Roman?  His name then must be known to me.”

“Pardon me, lady,” replied Ursula:  “He bears the name of Angelo Villani—­not that of his sire or mother.  The honour of a noble house for ever condemns his parentage to rest unknown.  He is the offspring of a love unsanctioned by the church.”

“He is the more to be loved, then, and to be pitied—­victim of sin not his own!” answered Nina, with moistened eyes, as she saw the deep and burning blush that covered the boy’s cheeks.  “With the Tribune’s reign commences a new era of nobility, when rank and knighthood shall be won by a man’s own merit—­not that of his ancestors.  Fear not, madam:  in my house he shall know no slight.”