And so it was; old Niccolo was gone to Rome as he had said. But he
had given nobody any address by which to find him in the Eternal
City. And a little jealousy, perhaps, was felt at the good fortune
which had thus befallen one out of several who would have liked the
same. But all admitted that it was a remarkable proof of the
thoughtful kindness of the Marchese in the midst of his own
troubles.
And how terribly those troubles pressed on him was evident to the
whole household; and, by means of their reports, to the entire city.
Everybody in Ravenna knew with how heavy a hand affliction had
fallen upon the Marchese Lamberto. And everybody talked of it.
Sympathizing pity and blame were mingled in the judgments which were
being passed on the Marchese every hour, and in every place where
men or women met; and the proportions in which they were mingled
differed greatly. None, however, could fail to see and to admit that
the fall from the high pinnacle, on which the Marchese had stood,
had been a very terrible one. It was felt that it was a fall from
which he could never, under any circumstances, entirely recover.
The women were, for the most part, more indulgent to him than the
men. As for the unfortunate Bianca, they held that a righteous and
deserved judgment had fallen upon her, in which the operation of the
finger of Providence was distinctly visible.
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