But the nobleman was not disposed to endure this offensive sport.

Pausing in the middle of the square, he released his arm with a contemptuous gesture, saying: "The lute-player, or I, my fair one; you can decide----" The Venetian laughed loudly, laid her hand on Ulrich's arm and said: "The rest of the Shrove-Tuesday night shall be yours, my merry singer." Ulrich joined in her gayety, and taking the lute from his neck, offered it to the cavalier, with a defiant gesture, exclaiming: "It's at your disposal, Mask; we have changed parts.

But please hold it firmer than you held your lady." High play went on in the gaming hall; Claudia was lucky with the artist's gold.
At midnight the banker laid down the cards.

It was Ash-Wednesday, the hall must be cleared; the quiet Lenten season had begun.
The players withdrew into the adjoining rooms, among them the much-envied couple.
Claudia threw herself upon a couch; Ulrich left her to procure a gondola.
As soon as he was gone, she was surrounded by a motley throng of suitors.
How the beautiful woman's dark eyes sparkled, how the gems on her full neck and dazzling arms glittered, how readily she uttered a witty repartee to each gay sally.
"Claudia unaccompanied!" cried a young noble.

"The strangest sight at this remarkable carnival!" "I am fasting," she answered gaily; "and now that I long for meagre food, you come! What a lucky chance!" "Heavy Grimani has also become a very light man, with your assistance." "That's why he flew away.