“A noble column of a noble house!” answered the Queen.  “For us, respecting whom your curiosity may perhaps be aroused, know that we six ladies of Florence, deserted by or deprived of our kin and protectors, formed the resolution to retire to this palace, where, if death comes, it comes stripped of half its horrors; and as the learned tell us that sadness engenders the awful malady, so you see us sworn foes to sadness.  Six cavaliers of our acquaintance agreed to join us.  We pass our days, whether many or few, in whatever diversions we can find or invent.  Music and the dance, merry tales and lively songs, with such slight change of scene as from sward to shade, from alley to fountain, fill up our time, and prepare us for peaceful sleep and happy dreams.  Each lady is by turns Queen of our fairy court, as is my lot this day.  One law forms the code of our constitution—­that nothing sad shall be admitted.  We would live as if yonder city were not, and as if (added the fair Queen, with a slight sigh) youth, grace, and beauty, could endure for ever.  One of our knights madly left us for a day, promising to return; we have seen him no more; we will not guess what hath chanced to him.  It became necessary to fill up his place; we drew lots who should seek his substitute; it fell upon the ladies who have—­not, I trust, to your displeasure—­brought you hither.  Fair sir, my explanation is made.”

“Alas, lovely Queen,” said Adrian, wrestling strongly, but vainly, with the bitter disappointment he felt—­“I cannot be one of your happy circle; I am in myself a violation of your law.  I am filled with but one sad and anxious thought, to which all mirth would seem impiety.  I am a seeker amongst the living and the dead for one being of whose fate I am uncertain; and it was only by the words that fell from my fair conductor, that I have been decoyed hither from my mournful task.  Suffer me, gracious lady, to return to Florence.”

The Queen looked in mute vexation towards the dark-eyed Mariana, who returned the glance by one equally expressive, and then suddenly stepping up to Adrian she said,—­

“But, Signor, if I should still keep my promise, if I should be able to satisfy thee of the health and safety of—­of Irene.”

“Irene!” echoed Adrian in surprise, forgetful at the moment that he had before revealed the name of her he sought—­“Irene—­Irene di Gabrini, sister of the once renowned Rienzi!”

“The same,” replied Mariana, quickly; “I know her, as I told you.  Nay, Signor, I do not deceive thee.  It is true that I cannot bring thee to her; but better as it is,—­she went away many days ago to one of the towns of Lombardy, which, they say, the Pestilence has not yet pierced.  Now, noble sir, is not your heart lightened? and will you so soon be a deserter from the Court of Loveliness; and perhaps,” she added, with a soft look from her large dark eyes, “of Love?”

“Dare I, in truth, believe you, Lady?” said Adrian, all delighted, yet still half doubting.