belle sought his side-nay, even leaned upon his arm, as he strolled through the gorgeous rooms of the palace.  They were sufficiently disguised by their masks to remove any fear of personal recognition; and therefore, those who knew him not, save by the late scene of winning the prize, besought his escort for the dance-a piece of forwardness quite allowable during the masked part of the ball.  Many were the eyes that were bent upon him; and more than one glance of jealousy was shot towards him by s young nobles, as they saw the belles drawn to his side.

[See engraving.]

Carlton was naturally graceful, dignified and handsome, and bore his new position as though he had ever filled it-now chatting gaily with this lady, now with that, but all the while striving to detect through the many disguises of dresses and masks, the one form that was to him all in all-the queen of his heart and his love, Signorina Florinda.  He was himself unmasked, and wore a rich Grecian head-dress, a tunic of dark velvet, trimmed with rich ermine, and clasped close about the throat with checks of gold.  His silken hose, and velvet shoes faced with silver thread, set off his fine limbs to perfection.  A light, graceful dirk hung at his silver girdle, finishing a costume of great simplicity and beauty.  On his right arm there now leans the peerless figure of a countess, with whom he promenades and chats in his gay and spirited way, while she is evidently much captivated with him-indeed, so much is this apparent, that a figure of less height, dressed in a simple peasant’s garb and masked, steals up to his side and whispers some words into his ear; but though the reader may easily guess who that peasant girl really was, for the moment Carlton knew her not, and gently declining some proposal from her lips, he turns and walks on with the countess through the blaze of light and grandeur.

“That fellow carries it with a high hand,” said one young noble to another, referring to Carlton.

“Ay, but he has the full countenance and favor of the duke, and none can gainsay him.”

“Well, he is deuced clever,” said the English consul, who was talking with the other two.

“Is it a fact that he is American?” asked the first speaker, still regarding him.

“Undoubtedly.  You know he was announced as such when he won the duke’s prize.”

“How the ladies take to him,” said the English consul.

“And he to them,” added another.

“The Signora Florinda is said particularly to affect him, and he may win a prize there,” said one of the group.

“That would be too bad-the richest heiress in Florence to throw herself away thus!”

“’There’s many a slip ‘twixt the cup and the lip,’” quoted the English consul, and then walking away.

And thus Carlton was the unconscious theme of comment to a large portion of the assembly.  But the hour approaches when the heavy bell of the palace strikes the midnight hour, and the masquerade will be broken up, and each and all appear before each other in their true characters.  Peasant girls will don the attire more fitting their station; kings and queens will descend to their true estates; brigands will lay by the threatening paraphernalia of the mountain-robber, and hooded monks will assume a more worldly attire.  The hour is struck, and the scene changes!