The uncle could hardly realize the present state of affairs, so unexpected was it to him, Was it to this end he had played the hypocrite so many years, that he had given away to all the caprices of a wayward girl, and humored her most annoying fancies?  He could scarcely contain himself.  Here was a denouement for the proud old noble-his niece engaged to an American artist; his Italian blood boiled at the thought.  Petro, too, as we have intimated, little dreamed of the fire that had been kindled in Florinda’s heart-a flame that all the coldness of her uncle, ay, and his assumed authority, too, could not possibly quench.

She was an inmate now of her uncle’s household, or rather, he had full charge of her father’s house, where she resided; and though in many respects entirely independent of him, still, in the matter of forming so important a connection, she hardly dared to proceed openly and at once contrary to his expressed wish, and even orders.  Immediately on her uncle’s return to Florence, Florinda had removed from the duke’s palace to that of her forefathers, in order to assume, in some degree, the direction of her own affairs.  Here Carlton was peremptorily refused admittance by the directions of her uncle; and thus poor Florinda was little less than a prisoner, in her own house, not daring to meet Carlton, if she could have done so.  Thus commenced a drama which was to have a tragical end; and Florinda and Carlton found a sudden end to their late happy and joyful intercourse which neither had anticipated.

“Signor Latrezzi,” said the duke one day to Florinda’s uncle, “this young American is a noble fellow.”

“Doubtless, if your highness thinks so.”

“Think so-I know so, signor!”

“Your highness has much befriended him.”

“No more than his merit deserves.”

Signor Latrezzi bowed, but said nothing.

“Signor, you have observed his intimacy with Florinda?”

“Excellenza, yes.”

“A fine couple they would make.”

“Does your excellenza think so?”

“To be sure I do; and if I mistake not, so does the lady.”

“I know not that, excellenza.”

“Ask her then, Signor Latrezzi.  Either I cannot read the language of her fair face, or she loves the artist.”

“But he’s a foreigner, excellenza.”

“What of that?”

“Nothing, save that Florinda is nobly born, and bears some of the best and oldest blood of Italy.”

“Time will settle the matter,” said the duke, turning away.

Signor Latrezzi having ascertained that the duke favored the alliance of his niece with the American artist, was too good a subject-or rather, too experienced a courtier-to attempt openly before his master to oppose the matter, taking good care to avoid any interference with one whose wish, when expressed, was law.  His opposition to the proposed marriage was, however, none the less rigorous; and he determined, on such occasions as he could do so, to exercise his spirit with impunity, and he was often heard to say that the affair should never take place, even if he was himself obliged to call out the young American to single combat.