Although upon his entrance he strove to appear cheerful, Mary's eye detected a concealed sadness.
The dress of Geronimo was simple in comparison with the rich attire of the other Italian nobles, his compatriots. He wore a felt hat ornamented with a long plume, a Spanish cloak, a cloth doublet lined with fur, violet satin breeches, and gray boots. His modest attire was relieved only by the sword which hung at his side; for the hilt glittered with precious stones, and the armorial bearings engraved upon it proved him to be of noble birth.
"Che la pace sia in quelle casa!" (May peace be in this house!) he said, as he entered the hall.
He bowed profoundly to Mr. Van de Werve, and saluted him most respectfully; but the traces of tears which he perceived on Mary's face so startled him that he interrupted his ceremonious greetings, and fixed his eyes inquiringly upon her. She had been weeping, and yet she smiled joyously.
"Mary is naturally very susceptible, Signor Geronimo," said Mr. Van de Werve. "I was speaking to her of her beloved mother, and she wept. You appear, and she smiles as though she knew no sorrow."
The young girl did not await the conclusion of this explanation; before her father had finished speaking, she led her lover to the window, pointed to the weathercock, and said: "Look, Geronimo, the wind is from the west."
"I noticed it last night," replied the young man, with an involuntary sigh.
"Rejoice then, for to-day your uncle may be in sight of the city."
"I do not think so; however, it is possible," said the young man, sadly.
"How coldly you speak, Geronimo!" exclaimed the young girl, in surprise; "what cloud obscures your soul?"