Intoxicated with the pleasures offered at the banquet and the
ball, whatever of envy or of jealousy might have been hidden in the
bosoms of the guests while contemplating the treasure which the
triumphant Alberoni had snatched from contending suitors, it was
concealed, and the most cheerful hilarity prevailed. Yet, amid the
general expression of happiness, there were two persons who, attracting
notice by the meanness of their attire, and the melancholy gloom upon
their countenances, seemed to be out of place in so stately and so
joyous an assembly. They were brother and sister, the descendants of
Ghibellines who had died in exile, and distant relations of the Count,
who though not choosing to regard them as his heirs, had, when the
abolition of a severe law enabled the proscribed faction to return to
Florence, accorded them shelter and protection. Meanly clad in vestments
of coarse serge, there were yet no cavaliers who fluttered in silk and
velvet who could compare in personal beauty with Francesco Gonzago; and
the bride alone, of all the beauties who shone in gold and silver,
appeared superior in feminine charms to the lovely Beatrice,
notwithstanding that her cumbrous robe of grey stuff obscured the
delicate proportions of her sylph-like form. Buoyant in spirit, and
animated by the scene before her, occasionally a gleam of sunshine would
irradiate her brow as she gazed upon the sparkling throng who formed the
brilliant pageant which so much delighted her; but as she turned to
express her feelings to her brother, his pale pensive features and the
recollection of the intense anguish which wrung his heart, subdued her
gaiety, the smile passed away from her lip, the rose deserted her cheek,
and she stood by his side sad and sorrowful as some monumental statue.
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