The balls given by the Marchese Lamberto di Castelmare every Carnival were the grand and principal gaieties of Ravenna.  The whole of the “society” were invited, and to be prevented from going by illness or any other contretemps was a misfortune to be lamented during all the rest of the year.  At the Palazzo Castelmare people really did expect to enjoy themselves.  There was dancing for the young, cards for the old, and eating and drinking for all.  For the Palazzo Castelmare was the only house in Ravenna at which suppers were ever given.  There three balls and three handsome suppers were provided for all the society of Ravenna every year!  And the first of these always took place on the 2nd of January; the Capo d’Anno being left for the state reception at the Legate’s palace.

Well might little Signor Ercole Stadione say, what would become of Ravenna if anything were to happen to the Marchese Lamberto!

All the people came much about the same time; and there was then half an hour or so, before the dancing commenced, during which the main object and amusement of the assemblage was to escape from misfortune, which it was well known the Conte Leandro meditated inflicting on the society.  He was known to have written a poem for the opening of the new year, which was then in his pocket, and which he purposed reading aloud to the company, if he only could get a chance!  He was looking very pale, and more sodden and pasty about the face than usual, from the effects of his excesses at the Legate’s the night before.  But his friends had no hope that this would save them from the poem, if he could in anywise obtain a hearing.

“Take care, he is putting his hand in his coat-pocket!  That’s where it is, you know; he’ll have it out in half an instant, if we stop talking!  Oh, Contessina, you are always so ready!  Do invent something to stop him, for the love of heaven!” said a young man to a bright-looking girl next him.

“Oh, Signor Leandro, since you are riconciliato con bel sesso,” said the Contessina, alluding to words which, to the great amusement of all Ravenna, Leandro had written in the album of a lady who asked the poet for his autograph,—­“since you are reconciled to the fair sex, will you be very kind and see if I have left my fan where I put off my shawl in the ante-room?”

“Bravo, Contessina; now let us get to another part of the room, before he gets back.  Oh, Ludovico,” he continued, addressing the young Marchese Castelmare, whom they encountered as they were crossing the room, “for the love of heaven, let us begin!  Make the musicians strike up, or we shall have Leandro in full swing in another minute!”

“I assure you, Signor Ludovico, the danger is imminent!” said the Contessina.

“When I saw him at work last night at the Cardinal’s pastry, I thought he must have made himself too ill to come here to-night,” said the former speaker; “but I suppose poets can digest what would kill you or me!”