It was only for a moment.

The old ardour and impetuosity were nearly worn out.

Her head sank; she sighed heavily as she unlocked a desk which stood on the table.

Opening a drawer in the desk, she took out a leaf of vellum, covered with faded writing.

Some ragged ends of silken thread were still attached to the leaf, as if it had been torn out of a book.
'Can you read Italian ?' she asked, handing the leaf to Agnes.
Agnes answered silently by an inclination of her head.
'The leaf,' the Countess proceeded, 'once belonged to a book in the old library of the palace, while this building was still a palace.