CHURCH OF SAN FREDIANO.
Count Marescotti was walking rapidly up and down in the shade before the Guinigi Palace when the cavaliere and Baldassare appeared. He was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he did not perceive them.
"I must speak to him as soon as possible about Enrica," was Trenta's thought on seeing him. "With this report going about, there is not an hour to lose."
"You have kept your appointment punctually, count," he said, laying his hand on Marescotti's shoulder.
"Punctual, my dear cavaliere? I never missed an appointment in my life when made with a lady. I was up long before daylight, looking over some books I have with me, in order to be able the better to describe any object of interest to the Signorina Enrica."
"An opportunity for you, my boy," said Trenta, nodding his head roguishly at Baldassare. "You will have a lesson in Lucchese history. Of course, you know nothing about it."
"Every man has his forte," observed the count, good-naturedly, seeing Baldassare's embarrassment at having his ignorance exposed. (The cavaliere never could leave poor Adonis alone.) "We all know your forte is the ballroom; there you beat us all."
"Taught by me, taught by me," muttered the cavaliere; "he owes it all to me."
Leaving the count and Baldassare standing together in the street, the cavaliere knocked at the door of the Guinigi Palace. When it was opened he entered the gloomy court. Within he found Enrica and Teresa awaiting his arrival.
At the sight of her whom he so much loved, and of whom he had just heard what he conceived to be such an atrocious calumny, the cavaliere was quite overcome. Tears gathered in his eyes; he could hardly reply to her when she addressed him.