Beneath the balcony, she recognized a familiar and fondly remembered
face. The spirit of the hour and the scene exercised its influence over
her quick and sensitive nature; she caught up one of the rosebuds that
had been showered upon her, and aimed it at the sculptor; It hit the
mark; he turned his sad eyes upward, and there was Hilda, in whose
gentle presence his own secret sorrow and the obtrusive uproar of the
Carnival alike died away from his perception.
That night, the lamp beneath the Virgin's shrine burned as brightly as
if it had never been extinguished; and though the one faithful dove had
gone to her melancholy perch, she greeted Hilda rapturously the next
morning, and summoned her less constant companions, whithersoever they
had flown, to renew their homage.