The dawn of the morrow found the Amedi family awake and stirring; and every member of it breathing deep and terrible vengeance against the faithless Buondlemonte. Late as it was when Guiseppo Leoni delivered the unpleasant communication of which he was the bearer, messengers had been dispatched to all the relatives of the house, to summon them to a council, which was fixed to meet at an early hour in the morning.

When Francesca Amedi learned what had happened her towering form grew more erect, her dark eyes flashed forth unutterable thoughts, and, as she grasped tightly the jeweled dagger that hung from her girdle, she muttered between her set teeth—

“He would not learn how deeply I could have loved, but he shall feel—he and his puny minion—how bitterly I can hate, and how fearfully I can avenge!”

“He is not married yet,” her brother menacingly observed.

“The saints be praised for that,” she replied; “There shall be more guests at the wedding than are bidden.”

She retired to her own apartment, and after a long interview with her principal attendant she gave directions that no one should be admitted to see her, and that no summons, from any source, should be communicated to her.

——