He said, and rushed out of the apartment. Andreas shook his head; while Rosabella sank upon her uncle’s bosom, and wept bitterly.
CHAPTER III.
THE MIDNIGHT MEETING.
“Victory!” shouted Parozzi, as he rushed into the Cardinal Gonzaga’s chamber, where the chief conspirators were all assembled; “our work goes on bravely. Flodoardo returned this morning to Venice, and Abellino has already received the required sum.”
Gonzaga.—Flodoardo does not want talents; I had rather he should live and join our party. He is seldom off his guard—
Parozzi.—Such vagabonds may well be cautious; they must not forget themselves, who have so much to conceal from others.
Falieri.—Rosabella, as I understand, by no means sees this Florentine with unfavourable eyes.
Parozzi.—Oh, wait till to-morrow, and then he may make love to the devil and his grandmother, if he likes it. Abellino by that time will have wrung his neck round, I warrant you.
Contarino.—It is strange that, in spite of all inquiries, I can learn but little at Florence respecting this Flodoardo. My letters inform me that some time ago there did exist a family of that name; but it has been long extinct, or if any of its descendants are still in being at Florence, their existence is quite a secret.
Gonzaga.—Are you all invited to the Doge’s to-morrow?
Contarino.—All of us, without exception.