No great lover of state or state costume at any time, he was generally, towards the close of an evening, completely in dishabille, and in this condition he now presented himself to his subjects. She reminded him sometimes of the one holy and ineffable Madonna, at others of Berode, the great courtezan of her day, who had sent kings away from her doors, and had just announced her intention of ending her life in a convent. “I’m thirsty. ’ ‘Who is that?’ demanded Lucilla eagerly. All the turnkeys rose to salute the thief-taker, whose habitually-sullen countenance looked gloomier than usual. She watched her friend rise and go towards her affianced husband, a look of mischief in her face. She thought of her father in the garden, and of her aunt with her Patience, as she had seen them—how many ages was it ago? Just one day intervened.
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