It would not have taken her long, as she had said to herself, to get her things together and make them ready for being fetched away.  But in the chapel she found the Lady Violante on her knees on the fald-stool before the altar.  It was the first day in Lent, and, accordingly, a period of extra devotion.  The sins, the excesses, the frivolities, of the Carnival had to be atoned for by extra prayers and religious exercises; and if Violante had herself been guilty of no sins, excesses, or frivolities, during the festive season, yet there was abundant need of her prayers for those who had.

On hearing a light footfall behind her she looked round; and, on seeing Paolina, rose from her knees, and advanced a step to meet her.

“You are come to take away your things, cara mia.  The scaffolding has already been removed.  I suppose you are very glad that your task here is done; and it would be selfish, therefore, to say that I am sorry.  How often it happens, Paolina, that we are tempted to wish what we ought not to wish.”

“I don’t think, Signorina, that I often wish what my conscience tells me I ought not to desire; and I should have thought that such a thing had never occurred to you.  I wished very much to do something this morning, and I began to do it; but then I thought that I ought not to do it, and I did not.”

“Then, my child, you are all the happier.  It is a happy day for you.”

Paolina sighed a great sigh, and dropped her eyes to the ground.

“Then I suppose the evil wish was not wholly conquered,” said Violante, looking into her companion’s eyes with a grave smile.

“It was this, Signora:  I walked out very early this morning to St. Apollinare in Classe, where I am to make some copies of the Mosaics, which I hope to begin to-morrow.  A scaffolding has been prepared for me; and I went to see that all was ready.”

And then poor little Paolina was tempted to pour out all her heart and its troubles to her gravely kind and gentle friend.  And Violante spoke such words of comfort as her conscience would allow her to speak in the matter.  And the talk between the two girls ran on; and the minutes ran on, too.  And poor old Orsola Steno, at the end of her stock of patience at last, had taken the step that has been narrated.

And thus it had come to pass that Paolina had played the truant, and that her protracted absence had led to Signor Fortini’s momentary doubt as to the identity of the corpse he had seen brought into the city.

BOOK V

Who Did the Deed?

CHAPTER I

At the City Gate

Bianca Lalli lay dead at the city gate.  Fresh from her triumphs, her successes, her schemes, her hopes, her frolic, at the full tide of her fame, and her matchless beauty, the poor Diva was—­dead!