One morning she found a small portable scaffold or estrade of deals standing in one corner of the chapel; and, on inquiring for what purpose it had been placed there, she was told that it was to enable an artist to make a copy of some of the mosaics on the vault of the little apartment.  She learned further that the artist in question was a young Venetian lady:  that she was a protegee of the Marchese Lamberto; and that the permission to execute the copies in question, and to have that scaffolding placed there, had been obtained by him.

Then Violante knew right well who the Venetian artist was.  The worthy Assunta Fagiani had taken care that all the gossip of Ravenna which connected this girl’s name with that of Ludovico di Castelmare should reach her ears.  And she was glad of the easy opportunity which thus offered itself to her of gratifying her natural curiosity respecting the stranger—­the girl who could win that love which had been promised to her; but which she had been unable to inspire.

This Paolina Foscarelli—­she well knew her name—­was, in some sense, her rival.  Ludovico di Castelmare was bidden to love her, the Contessa Violante, and instead of doing so, had given his love, as she had been assured, to this Venetian.  She knew, indeed, quite well that had the stranger never come near Ravenna, Ludovico would not have loved her the more.  She did not love Ludovico.  She was anxious to be quit of the engagement it had been proposed to make between them; and it might be very likely that this girl might be serviceable to her, rather than otherwise, in helping to bring about such a consummation.

Nevertheless, there was a certain amount of bitterness—­such bitterness, more akin to self-depreciation, as could find place in the gentle heart of Violante—­in the thought of what might have been; in the thought that she was irrevocably excluded from that which it had been so easy for this poor stranger artist to attain; and, above all, there was a strong curiosity to see the beauty which had accomplished this; to hear the voice which had been able to charm; and, further, in her own interest, to ascertain, if that should be possible, whether the tie which she had been told existed between this girl and the man who had been assigned to her for a husband, was, or was not, of a nature likely to lead to a marriage between them.

At first sight this would have seemed impossible to the aristocratic notions of the Cardinal Legate’s niece.  But Assunta Fagiani, whose object had been simply to convince Violante that no union between herself and Ludovico would ever take place, despite all appearances to the contrary, had given her to understand that it was whispered as a thing not impossible—­such was Ludovico’s infatuation—­that he might even go the length of making such an alliance.

One morning, soon after the commencement of her work in the chapel, whither she had been escorted on her first going thither by the Marchese Lamberto himself in person, in accordance with his promise, Violante, on entering the chapel, saw that the little scaffold had been pulled out from its corner and placed immediately under one of the medallion portraits of the Apostles, on the vault of the building.  She looked up, and perceiving the artist above her at her work, paused, hesitating before kneeling at the footstool in front of the altar.