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Updated: June 6, 2025
Two days afterward Count Borelloni sat in his study, musing upon the strange occurrences of the few past months. His thoughts dwelt upon Mario, who thrice had been his benefactor. "I cannot account for it. How intense, how absorbing, how wonderful must be his love for my daughter. He has treated my scorn with kindness. When I forbade him the house, he never came here.
Lights gleamed in dazzling rows within the long halls where all the flower of Tuscan nobility, and all the lords and barons and great men of other lands were assembled. For this was the day when the Count Fostello led to the altar the lovely Stella Borelloni. The Grand Duke condescended to be the head groomsman.
No, not so," answered the duke. "No longer obscure, you are the greatest in the land, and none shall call you otherwise. I name you count-and in a week your title shall be formally bestowed, so henceforth, Count Fostello, you may not be obscure." A week afterward the palace of Borelloni was all festivity.
"I will raise myself to an equality with her, and then Borelloni shall not refuse." It was summer, and the sun glanced brightly, gloriously, over the silver waters of Thrasymene's lake, for such we love to call the lake which the Italians name Perugia.
"Mario is no mercenary man. He despises rewards of that kind. I will tell you. He loves the count's daughter." "Ah," said all. "And he deserves her. But for him she would not have lived to have his love, nor would Borelloni have been living to refuse." "Does he refuse?" said they. "Mario said nothing to the count. It is an old story. He has loved her long.
"Mario!" "Yes, and if he had not been guilty of such great presumption, my palace and my esteem would have been thrown open to him always-first, because he is chief of artists, and especially because he saved my darling's life." "Yet is he so presumptuous, my father?" "My daughter! Stella Borelloni, can an obscure man aspire to the hand of the fairest in Tuscany?" "He may not always be obscure."
The gloomy palaces of the middle ages, the magnificent churches of early times, towers and colonnades, statues and fountains, arrest the eye and charm the beholder. All is joyousness and beauty. Among the throngs of carriages which rode along the Lung' Arno and down to the Casino, none was more noticed than that of the Count Borelloni.
"I heard his contemptuous words as I passed the carriage, and know the scorn which he feels for me. But Count Borelloni," he exclaimed, raising his hand, "I will make you know that birth alone does not constitute greatness. I will make you know that a lofty soul can struggle upwards."
Come, and Stella shall he the reward which you shall receive as the best and most priceless gift of the grateful BORELLONI." He rose from his chair and called for Stella. She came to him speedily. "Stella," said he, "I have at last found one to whom I can confide you, who will be your protector when I am gone. What do you say to that? You change color-you tremble." "O father, why now?
"Yes, a large number," replied the gentleman, looking somewhat anxiously at the horses. After a few moments he rode away. "Your excellency?" said the coachman to the count. "Well?" he replied. "Your excellency's horses are unmanageable, or will be so soon. They are not used to these crowded streets." "If they do not become so soon, they never will be," said Borelloni.
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