happen in the world, which, perhaps, might be forgiven, if we knew the particular circumstances by which they were caused.’—‘Nay,’ said I, ‘but it unluckily happens that the Duke seems to offer no excuse whatever for his conduct;’ but I desisted from these suggestions, as I perceived that the Count was determined, at all hazards, to proceed with this alliance, from which I should have so gladly dissuaded him.
“After this rencontre, the betrothing was appointed without any new interruption; but at the festival, though there was no want of luxury and magnificence, yet the guests were far from being very cheerful or convivial. Even the ball in the evening did not seem to rouse their spirits; only Marino danced incessantly, and he alone seemed extravagant in his mirth. ‘By good luck,’ said he, as he passed me during a quadrille, and laughed aloud; ‘by good luck, no ghost has come to interrupt our festival, as in your Venetian story!’—‘Nay, nay,’ said I, ‘don’t rejoice too soon my Lord Duke; misfortune comes on with cautious, noiseless steps. Often we know nothing of our danger, till it is already close upon us.’ Contrary to my expectations, he did not venture to
