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Updated: June 3, 2025
She is a stunner." After Orazio had ventured this observation about Nera Boccarini, Prince Ruspoli brought his small, steely eyes to bear upon him with a fixed stare. Orazio affected total unconsciousness, but he quailed inwardly. The others silently watched Ruspoli.
Something Nobili understood of what was passing within her, but not all. He had yet to learn the treasures of faith and love shut up in the bosom of that silent girl to learn how much she loved him only him. Neither spoke, but wandered up and down in vague delight. Why was it that at this moment Nobili's thoughts strayed to Lucca, and to Nera Boccarini?
Nera's eyelids tremble; she opens her eyes, her lips move. "Nera, my child, my darling, speak to me!" cries Madame Boccarini. "Tell me that you can hear me." Nera tries to raise her head, but in vain. It falls back upon the cushion. "Home, mamma home!" her lips feebly whisper. At the sound of her voice Nobili starts up; he brushes away the tears that still roll down his cheeks.
The Marchesa Boccarini had already arrived, accompanied by her three daughters. They are seated near the door leading from the first saloon, where Countess Orsetti is stationed. In front of them is a group of flowering plants and palm-trees. Madame Boccarini peers through the leaves, glass in eye.
Half an hour before the time appointed he appeared at the Palazzo Trenta. The cavaliere was ready, and they went out into the street together. "If you have not been asleep since the ball, Baldassare which is probable perhaps you can tell me how Nera Boccarini is this morning?" "She is quite well, I understand," answered Adonis, with an air of great mystery, as he smoothed his scented beard.
The type of the Lucchese nobleman is dark, short, and commonplace rustic is the word. There is the usual crowding in doorways, and appropriation of seats whence arrivals can be seen and criticised. But there is no line of melancholy young girls wanting partners. The gentlemen decidedly predominate, and all the ladies, except Teresa Ottolini and the Boccarini, are married.
Nera Boccarini, of course," responded two or three voices, amid a general titter. "I don't think Nobili cares a straw about Nera," put in the languid Franchi, drawling out his words. "I have heard quite another story about Nobili. Give Nera to Ruspoli. He seems about to take her for life. I wish him joy!" with a sneer. "Ruspoli likes English manners.
The "golden youth" offer bets as to Nera's recovery; the ladies, who are jealous, back freely against it. In half an hour, however, Countess Orsetti is able to announce that "Nera Boccarini is better, and that, beyond the shock, it is hoped that she is not seriously hurt." "You see, Malatesta, I was right," drawls out the languid Franchi as he descends the stairs.
"No, not the cause," answered Marchesa Boccarini. The elder sisters echoed "Not the cause." "It was the ribbon," continued the marchesa. "Nera was entangled with the ribbon when she rose; she did not know it." "I ought to have held her up," returned Nobili with a glance at Nera, who, with a kind of queenly calm, looked him full in the face with her bold, black eyes.
The cavaliere shrugged his shoulders contemptuously. "We talked of the accident," continued Baldassare, affecting not to notice his sneers, "and we talked of Nobili. Many said, as you do, that Nobili is in love with Nera Boccarini, and that he would certainly marry her. Malatesta laughed, as is his way, then he swore a little. Nobili would do no such thing, he declared, he would answer for it.
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