“Ah! lady, no need hast thou to teach me this! I see her near me always—gentle, loving, pure; she is my guardian angel. When I would do ill, she comes upon me in my dreams, and smiles a welcome to me.”
“I hear footsteps, I must leave thee.”
“Why shouldst thou tremble?”
’Twas Orsini and the friends coming to seek for Gennaro. The youth Maffio, seeing a lady near his friend, ran gaily forward to them; but within a few paces, and just as the lady was rising her mask to her face, he saw her—saw her, to start and turn pale, brave as he was; saw her, to call on Heaven, and ask himself her name.
He ran back to his companions, uttered but two words, and each man was amazed. One laid his hand upon the spot where his dagger would have been, but that at fêtes all arms were rendered at the door. Another placed his hand upon his mouth and gazed in horror.
“Gennaro,” whispered the unknown lady, “I must leave thee.”
“Yet deign to tell who thou art?”
“One whose life is loving thee.”
“Thy name!”
“I will reveal it,” cried Orsini, coming forward, and speaking savagely, unmercifully.