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.




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