upon any argument which Mr. Strelley can advance——­” when a friar opened the door and ushered in a lieutenant of police and his guard.  The officer saluted the company in general and myself in particular.  “Sir,” he said politely to me, “I have the honour to arrest you, in the Grand Duke’s name, for the barbarous murder of the most illustrious Marchese Deifobo Semifonte, for the attempted murder of his Excellency Count Amadeo Giraldi, and for contravention of the law of duelling.  By express command of the Syndic I am to put your honour in irons.  Corporal, do your duty.”

I said nothing in reply, but took leave of my host with all the proper form of society, assuring him that I should take with me whithersover I went a grateful memory of his beautiful and peaceful retirement; I bowed to my fellow-guest, and then suffered the corporal to chain my hands behind me.  A coach was awaiting me at the gate; I entered it with the lieutenant and was driven to the Bargello.

I was not ill-treated by any means.  I had a small but decent chamber assigned to me, and I was alone.  When I demanded that my accusation should be read over, in order that I might engage a lawyer for my defence, I was assured that this would not be at all necessary, as there would be no trial.  In that case, I begged them to leave me to repose and meditation, which they were so good as to do.  I had an excellent night’s rest, and was very ready for my chocolate at eight o’clock in the morning.

Whilst I was sipping this, expecting every moment the arrival of my servant with my clothes, clean linen, letters, and a barber, I heard the key turn in the lock, and made sure that it was Federigo.  But the warder introduced a muffled figure of a woman, who, when he had retired, came quickly towards me, as if she was about to stab me.  “Miserable young man!” she said fiercely.  It was Aurelia!

I sprang up, took, saluted her hand, “Madam,” I said, “this is a condescension which I am far from deserving.  I have done nothing but my duty.”

Her eyes were very bright, and she was distressed for breath; but there was an intensity in her manner—­a fire, a flame—­which made her vehement.

“Your duty, indeed!” she cried.  “When may I expect you to find your duty elsewhere than in my affairs?  Am I never to have paid off my original debt to your lordship?  It is not enough, it appears, that you make love to me—­but you must tell my husband all about it!  It is not enough that he drives me out of doors and that you refuse to come with me—­no, but you must wander about by yourself, telling all the world what you have done.  It is not enough that you make me love you, but you must needs intrigue with a low-born girl, a thing of naught!  And now, finally, you come galloping into Florence again, and you—­you——­Oh, Heavens, I have no patience left to speak of such things!  How did you dare”—­she stamped her foot furiously, her cheeks were flame-red—­“How