A Siren | Page 9

Bianca was not ready. Her maid came down to the
door with all sorts of apologies, and assurances that her mistress would
be ready in a few minutes. The few minutes, however, became half an
hour, as minutes will under such circumstances. And the result of this
delay was that Ludovico and his companion were not the first travellers
out of the Porta Nuova that morning.
During the whole of the past Carnival and the latter months of the
previous year there had been living in Ravenna a young girl,--an artist
from Venice, who had come to Ravenna with a commission given her
by a travelling Englishman to make copies of some of the more
remarkable of the very extraordinary and unique series of mosaics
which exist in the old imperial city. She had brought with her a letter of
introduction from her employer to the Marchese Lamberto,-- a
circumstance which had led to a degree of intimacy between the
Marchesino Ludovico and the extremely attractive young artist, which
threatened to stand more or less in the way of the match which had
been arranged by the high-contracting parties between Ludovico and
the Lady Violante, the great niece of the Cardinal. The girl's name was
Paolina Foscarelli.
It is probable that in due time and season the reader may become better
acquainted with Paolina. But at present there is no need of troubling
him with more particulars respecting her than the above, save to
mention that, having industriously and successfully completed the
greater portion of her task in the churches within the city, she had

determined to make her first visit to the strange old Basilica of St.
Apollinare in Classe, on that same Ash Wednesday morning. She did
not purpose beginning her task there on that day; but intended merely
to reconnoitre the ground, look to the needful preparations that had
been made for her work, and ascertain how far the spot was within her
powers of walking.
Paolina, too, had felt that the morning of Ash Wednesday was a
favourable time for the first experiment of an undertaking that a little
alarmed her. For she also had calculated that on such a morning she
should be little likely to meet anybody. It was just about six o'clock
when Paolina started on her proposed walk; and she passed through the
Porta Nuova, therefore, a little more than half- an-hour before
Ludovico and his companion passed, travelling in the same direction.
The road, which it was necessary for her to follow in order to reach St.
Apollinare in Classe, is the same for the whole of the distance between
the city and the ancient church as that which Ludovico and Bianca
would follow to reach the celebrated pine forest. The soil on which the
forest stands is composed of the accumulation of sand which the
rivers--mainly the Po--have brought from distant mountains, and
deposited in the bed of the Adriatic since the old church was built "in
Classe,"--where the fleet once used to be moored. The building thus
stands nearly at the edge of the forest, hardly more than a stone's throw
from the furthest advanced sentinels of the wood. The road coming out
from the city by the Porta Nuova, on its way to the little town of Cervia,
a few miles to the southward, traverses ground once thickly covered
with palaces, streets, and churches, now open fields,--and passes by the
western front and doorway of the almost deserted old Basilica, a little
before it reaches the turning off towards the left, which enters the
forest.
The walk before Paolina, when she had passed the city gate, was about
two miles or rather more. So that had La Bianca taken a few less
minutes to put the finishing touches to the charming morning toilette
which replaced the gorgeous Venetian costume she had taken off, the
bagarino which carried her and Ludovico would infallibly have

overtaken the young artist. As it was, however, having more than
half-an-hour's start of it, she reached the church before they came
within sight of it.
Little Paolina had felt rather nervous when first stepping into the cool
fresh morning air from the door of the lodging she occupied. But the
street was utterly empty, and she took courage. The first human beings
she saw on her way were the octroi officers at the gate. They sat
apparently half asleep at the doorway of their den, by the side of the
city gate, wrapped in huge cloaks; and took not even so much heed of
her as to say "Good morning."
The long bit of straight flat road outside the gate was equally deserted;
and Paolina, braced by the morning air, stepped out vigorously, and
began to enjoy her walk.
There is little enough, however, in the