the life so rapidly hurrying away cannot but be
felt as having a certain degree of solemnity
attached to it. And men "keep it," accordingly,
with observances which differ as their temperaments
and characters differ. It becomes a
festival or a fast, not as the retrospect of the
year that is already so rapidly floating away
down the stream into the gulf of the infinite
past is in any degree satisfactory or the
reverse, but as it is Heraclitus or Democritus who
makes it.

The Church pronounces the day a fast-day, in
that it is the vigil of the feast-day of the new
year. And all those good sons of the Church
who make a point of complying with her
ordinances, especially the pious confraternities,
whose scope and usages have been described,
obediently observe it as such accordingly. On
such an occasion it might be supposed that the
devout Duke of San Giuliano, whose attendance
at the meetings of his confraternity had
been so exemplarily regular, would not have
failed to avail himself of the opportunity of
assuming his penitential gown and hood as
usual. But he did not do so. And it would
seem that the certainty that he would not visit the
Via dei Pilastri on that night, was the occasion
for which the duchess was waiting for the further
prosecution of her "little comedy." For,
notwithstanding what she had said to Bartolommeo
about the exposure and shame she intended to
inflict upon Caterina, it did not appear to enter
into her plans, whatever they were, to put them
in execution when the duke was there. In any
case, it is certain that Salviati was not in the
house of his mistress on the night of that 31st
of December, 1638, and that he did on that night
sleep at home, in Villa Salviati.

It is further especially recorded by the
contemporary chroniclers that Signore Vincenzo
Carlini and Siguore Jacopo Serselli were with
Caterina in Casa Canacci on that evening. Under all
the circumstances of the case, it certainly
appears strange that they should have been there,
especially in Salviati's absence. The fact may
be taken as an illustration the more, of the social
habits and feelings of the time. But it probably
should not be understood to cast any further
reproach on the unfortunate Caterina than is
inseparable from the mere circumstance of her
permitting these men, situated as she was with
regard to them, to come there to sup and make
merry. Salviati, it might be thought, ought to
have protected her against any such associations
—more especially as there does not seem any
reason to believe that their presence there was
kept secret from him.

Be this as it may, on that night Carlini and
Serselli were with Caterina in Casa Canacci, and
the aged husband was fast asleep up-stairs as
usual, when, about the third hour after the Ave
Maria, a knocking was heard at the door. The
servant-girl, Nina—who was such a treasure, we
remember—went up-stairs to a window from
which, she could look down over the door, and
called out to ask who was there. People in those
days in Florence did not open their doors after
sundown without precautions.

"A friend!" cried the voice of Bartolommeo
from below, making the customary reply to the
question. "Open the door, Nina; it's all
right."

"Ah, but Signor Bartolommeo, it is not always
all right when you come to the house o' nights at
such hours. Are you sure you are sober?—that
is to say, as near sober as ever you are. Will you
behave yourself decently, and not wake up the
old man?"

"Don't you see I am as sober as a bishop? A
great deal soberer than some of them are at
this moment, I'll be bound."

"But what is it you want, Signor Bartolommeo?
It is getting late, and my mistress will
be going to bed directly," persisted Nina, who
seemed to have more misgiving than usual about
letting her master's son into the house, although
in obedience to the suggestions of the duchess he
had, in his recent visits, taken unusual care to
behave inoffensively.

"What do I want?" returned Bartolommeo,
speaking in apparently perfect good temper;
"why to pay my compliments to the Signora
Caterina on this of all nights in the year. Come,
Nina, open the door, there is a good girl, and
don't keep me standing here in the cold any
longer. I told the Signora Caterina that I
should look in, this evening."

Now Nina knew very well that when
Bartolommeo came thus to the door, the usual
alternative was to admit him or to have a dreadful
disturbance in the street, calling the neighbours
to their windows, and generally waking up old
Signor Giustino: all which would have been
exceedingly inconvenient, for many reasons, under
the circumstances. So she replied from the
window:

"Well, then, Signor Bartolommeo, if you will
promise not to wake Signor Giustino .... He
was fractious enough to-night, I can tell you, and
the Holy Virgin knows the trouble we had in
getting him to sleep!.... I will come down
to the door directly. The fact is, the signora has
some friends to supper to-night, and— "

"I know that very well! I know all about it!
For whom do you take me? I shall only drink
just one cup in all good fellowship with Signor
Carlini and his friend."

"Well, I am coming," returned Nina, cautiously
shutting the window from which she had
held the colloquy.

She ran first, however, into the room down
stairs, where Caterina and her guests were seated
at the supper-table, to warn them of the
intruder's coming.

"There's Signor Bartolommeo at the door,
my lady, seeking admittance. I tried to send
him away, but it was no use. He seems sober,
for a wonder. He knows that these gentlemen
are here, and says he only wants to drink a cup
in good fellowship with them, and pay his