ZICCI

A TALE. 

BOOK I. 

CHAPTER I. 

In the gardens at Naples, one summer evening in the last century, somefour or five gentlemen were seated under a tree drinking their sherbetand listening, in the intervals of conversation, to the music whichenlivened that gay and favorite resort of an indolent population. Oneof this little party was a young Englishman who had been the life of thewhole group, but who for the last few moments had sunk into a gloomy andabstracted revery. One of his countrymen observed this sudden gloom, and tapping him on the back, said, "Glyndon, why, what ails you? Areyou ill? You have grown quite pale; you tremble: is it a sudden chill?You had better go home; these Italian nights are often dangerous to ourEnglish constitutions. "

"No, I am well now, --it was but a passing shudder; I cannot account forit myself. "

A man apparently of about thirty years of age, and of a mien andcountenance strikingly superior to those around him, turned abruptly, and looked steadfastly at Glyndon. 

"I think I understand what you mean, " said he, --"and perhaps, " he added, with a grave smile, "I could explain it better than yourself. " Here, turning to the others, he added, "You must often have felt, gentlemen, --each and all of you, --especially when sitting alone at night, a strangeand unaccountable sensation of coldness and awe creep over you; yourblood curdles, and the heart stands still; the limbs shiver, the hairbristles; you are afraid to look up, to turn your eyes to the darkercorners of the room; you have a horrible fancy that something unearthlyis at hand. Presently the whole spell, if I may so call it, passesaway, and you are ready to laugh at your own weakness. Have you notoften felt what I have thus imperfectly described? If so, you canunderstand what our young friend has just experienced, even amidst thedelights of this magical scene, and amidst the balmy whispers of a Julynight. "

"Sir, " replied Glyndon, evidently much surprised, "you have definedexactly the nature of that shudder which came over me. But how could mymanner be so faithful an index to my impressions?"

"I know the signs of the visitation, " returned the stranger, gravely;"they are not to be mistaken by one of my experience. "

All the gentlemen present then declared that they could comprehend, andhad felt, what the stranger had described. "According to one of ournational superstitions, " said Merton, the Englishman who had firstaddressed Glyndon, "the moment you so feel your blood creep, and yourhair stand on end, some one is walking over the spot which shall be yourgrave. "

"There are in all lands different superstitions to account for so commonan occurrence, " replied the stranger; "one sect among the Arabians holdthat at that instant God is deciding the hour either of your death orthat of some one dear to you. The African savage, whose imagination isdarkened by the hideous rites of his gloomy idolatry, believes that theEvil Spirit is pulling you towards him by the hair. So do the Grotesqueand the Terrible mingle with each other. "

"It is evidently a mere physical accident, --a derangement of thestomach; a chill of the blood, " said a young Neapolitan. 

"Then why is it always coupled, in all nations, with some superstitiouspresentiment or terror, --some connection between the material frame andthe supposed world without us?" asked the stranger. "For my part, Ithink--"

"What do you think, sir?" asked Glyndon, curiously. 

"I think, " continued the stranger, "that it is the repugnance and horrorof that which is human about us to something indeed invisible, butantipathetic to our own nature, and from a knowledge of which we arehappily secured by the imperfection of our senses. "

"You are a believer in spirits, then?" asked Merton, with an increduloussmile. 

"Nay, I said not so. I can form no notion of a spirit, as themetaphysicians do, and certainly have no fear of one; but there may beforms of matter as invisible and impalpable to us as the animalculae towhich I have compared them. The monster that lives and dies in a dropof water, carniverous, insatiable, subsisting on the creatures minuterthan himself, is not less deadly in his wrath, less ferocious in hisnature, than the tiger of the desert. There may be things around usmalignant and hostile to men, if Providence had not placed a wallbetween them and us, merely by different modifications of matter. "

"And could that wall never be removed?" asked young Glyndon, abruptly. "Are the traditions of sorcerer and wizard, universal and immemorial asthey are, merely fables?"

"Perhaps yes; perhaps no, " answered the stranger, indifferently. "Butwho, in an age in which the reason has chosen its proper bounds, wouldbe mad enough to break the partition that divides him from the boa andthe lion, to repine at and rebel against the law of nature whichconfines the shark to the great deep? Enough of these idlespeculations. "

Here the stranger rose, summoned the attendant, paid for his sherbet, and, bowing slightly to the company, soon disappeared among the trees. 

"Who is that gentleman?" asked Glyndon, eagerly. 

The rest looked at each other, without replying, for some moments. 

"I never saw him before, " said Merton, at last. 

"Nor I. "

"Nor I. "

"I have met him often, " said the Neapolitan, who was named Count Cetoxa;"it was, if you remember, as my companion that he joined you. He hasbeen some months at Naples; he is very rich, --indeed enormously so. Ouracquaintance commenced in a strange way. "

"How was it?"

"I had been playing at a public gaming-house, and had lost considerably. I rose from the table, resolved no longer to tempt Fortune, when thisgentleman, who had hitherto been a spectator, laying his hand on my arm, said with politeness, 'Sir, I see you enjoy play, --I dislike it; but Iyet wish to have some interest in what is going on. Will you play thissum for me? The risk is mine, --the half-profits yours. ' I wasstartled, as you may suppose, at such an address; but the stranger hadan air and tone with him it was impossible to resist. Besides, I wasburning to recover my losses, and should not have risen had I had anymoney left about me. I told him I would accept his offer, provided weshared the risk as well as profits. 'As you will, ' said he, smiling, 'we need have no scruple, for you will be sure to win. ' I sat down, thestranger stood behind me; my luck rose, I invariably won. In fact, Irose from the table a rich man. "

"There can be no foul play at the public tables, especially when foulplay would make against the bank. "

"Certainly not, " replied the count. "But our good fortune was indeedmarvellous, --so extraordinary that a Sicilian (the Sicilians are allill-bred, bad-tempered fellows) grew angry and insolent. 'Sir, ' saidhe, turning to my new friend, 'you have no business to stand so near tothe table. I do not understand this; you have not acted fairly. ' Thespectator replied, with great composure, that he had done nothingagainst the rules; that he was very sorry that one man could not winwithout another man losing; and that he could not act unfairly even ifdisposed to do so. The Sicilian took the stranger's mildness forapprehension, --blustered more loudly, and at length fairly challengedhim. 'I never seek a quarrel, and I never shun a danger, ' returned mypartner; and six or seven of us adjourned to the garden behind thehouse. I was of course my partner's second. He took me aside. 'Thisman will die, ' said he; 'see that he is buried privately in the churchof St. Januario, by the side of his father. '

"'Did you know his family?' I asked with great surprise. He made noanswer, but drew his sword and walked deliberately to the spot we hadselected. The Sicilian was a renowned swordsman; nevertheless, in thethird pass he was run through the body. I went up to him; he couldscarcely speak. 'Have you any request to make, --any affairs to settle?'He shook his head. 'Where would you wish to be interred?' He pointedtowards the Sicilian coast. 'What!' said I, in surprise, 'not by theside of your father?' As I spoke, his face altered terribly, he uttereda piercing shriek; the blood gushed from his mouth, and he fell dead. The most strange part of the story is to come. We buried him in thechurch of St. Januario. In doing so, we took up his father's coffin;the lid came off in moving it, and the skeleton was visible. In thehollow of the skull we found a very slender wire of sharp steel; thiscaused great surprise and inquiry. The father, who was rich and amiser, had died suddenly and been buried in haste, owing, it was said, to the heat of the weather. Suspicion once awakened, the examinationbecame minute. The old man's servant was questioned, and at lastconfessed that the son had murdered the sire. The contrivance wasingenious; the wire was so slender that it pierced to the brain and drewbut one drop of blood, which the gray hairs concealed. The accomplicewas executed. "

"And this stranger, did he give evidence? Did he account for--"

"No, " interrupted the count, "he declared that he had by accidentvisited the church that morning; that he had observed the tombstone ofthe Count Salvolio; that his guide had told him the count's son was inNaples, --a spendthrift and a gambler. While we were at play, he hadheard the count mentioned by name at the table; and when the challengewas given and accepted, it had occured to him to name the place ofburial, by an instinct he could not account for. "

"A very lame story, " said Merton. 

"Yes, but we Italians are superstitious. The alleged instinct wasregarded as the whisper of Providence; the stranger became an object ofuniversal interest and curiosity. His wealth, his manner of living, hisextraordinary personal beauty, have assisted also to make him the rage. "

"What is his name?" asked Glyndon. 

"Zicci. Signor Zicci. "

"Is it not an Italian name? He speaks English like a native. "

"So he does French and German, as well as Italian, to my knowledge. Buthe declares himself a Corsican by birth, though I cannot hear of anyeminent Corsican family of that name. However, what matters his birthor parentage? He is rich, generous, and the best swordsman I ever sawin my life. Who would affront him?"

"Not I, certainly, " said Merton, rising. "Come, Glyndon, shall we seekour hotel? It is almost daylight. Adieu, signor. "

"What think you of this story?" said Glyndon as the young men walkedhomeward. 

"Why, it is very clear that this Zicci is some impostor, some cleverrogue; and the Neapolitan shares booty, and puffs him off with all thehackneyed charlatanism of the marvellous. An unknown adventurer getsinto society by being made an object of awe and curiosity; he isdevilish handsome; and the women are quite content to receive himwithout any other recommendation than his own face and Cetoxa's fables. "

"I cannot agree with you. Cetoxa, though a gambler and a rake, is anobleman of birth and high repute for courage and honor. Besides, thisstranger, with his grand features and lofty air, --so calm, sounobtrusive, --has nothing in common with the forward garrulity of animpostor. "

"My dear Glyndon, pardon me, but you have not yet acquired any knowledgeof the world; the stranger makes the best of a fine person, and hisgrand air is but a trick of the trade. But to change the subject: howgets on the love affair?"

"Oh! Isabel could not see me to-night. The old woman gave me a note ofexcuse. "

"You must not marry her; what would they all say at home?"

"Let us enjoy the present, " said Glyndon, with vivacity; "we are young, rich, good-looking: let us not think of to-morrow. "

"Bravo, Glyndon! Here we are at the hotel. Sleep sound, and don'tdream of Signor Zicci. "

CHAPTER II. 

Clarence Glyndon was a young man of small but independent fortune. Hehad, early in life, evinced considerable promise in the art of painting, and rather from enthusiasm than the want of a profession, he hadresolved to devote himself to a career which in England has been seldomentered upon by persons who can live on their own means. Without beinga poet, Glyndon had also manifested a graceful faculty for verse, whichhad contributed to win his entry into society above his birth. Spoiledand flattered from his youth upward, his natural talents were in somemeasure relaxed by indolence and that worldly and selfish habit ofthought which frivolous companionship often engenders, and which iswithering alike to stern virtue and high genius. The luxuriance of hisfancy was unabated; but the affections, which are the life of fancy, hadgrown languid and inactive. His youth, his vanity, and a restlessdaring and thirst of adventure had from time to time involved him indangers and dilemmas, out of which, of late, he had always extricatedhimself with the ingenious felicity of a clever head and cool heart. Hehad left England for Rome with the avowed purpose and sincere resolutionof studying the divine masterpieces of art; but pleasure had soonallured him from ambition, and he quitted the gloomy palaces of Rome forthe gay shores and animated revelries of Naples. Here he had fallen inlove--deeply in love, as he said and thought--with a young personcelebrated at Naples, Isabel di Pisani. She was the only daughter of anItalian by an English mother. The father had known better days; in hisprosperity he had travelled, and won in England the affections of a ladyof some fortune. He had been induced to speculate; he lost his all; hesettled at Naples, and taught languages and music. His wife died whenIsabel, christened from her mother, was ten years old. At sixteen shecame out on the stage; two years afterwards her father departed thislife, and Isabel was an orphan. 

Glyndon, a man of pleasure and a regular attendant at the theatre, hadremarked the young actress behind the scenes; he fell in love with her, and he told her so. The girl listened to him, perhaps from vanity, perhaps from ambition, perhaps from coquetry; she listened, and allowedbut few stolen interviews, in which she permitted no favor to theEnglishman it was one reason why he loved her so much. 

The day following that on which our story opens, Glyndon was ridingalone by the shores of the Neapolitan sea, on the other side of theCavern of Pausilippo. It was past noon; the sun had lost its earlyfervor, and a cool breeze sprang voluptuously from the sparkling sea. Bending over a fragment of stone near the roadside, he perceived theform of a man; and when he approached he recognized Zicci. 

The Englishman saluted him courteously. "Have you discovered someantique?" said he, with a smile; "they are as common as pebbles on thisroad. "

"No, " replied Zicci; "it was but one of those antiques that have theirdate, indeed, from the beginning of the world, but which Natureeternally withers and renews. " So saying, he showed Glyndon a smallherb with a pale blue flower, and then placed it carefully in his bosom. 

"You are an herbalist?"

"I am. "

"It is, I am told, a study full of interest. "

"To those who understand it, doubtless. But, " continued Zicci, lookingup with a slight and cold smile, "why do you linger on your way toconverse with me on matters in which you neither have knowledge nordesire to obtain it? I read your heart, young Englishman: yourcuriosity is excited; you wish to know me, and not this humble herb. Pass on; your desire never can be satisfied. "

"You have not the politeness of your countrymen, " said Glyndon, somewhatdiscomposed. "Suppose I were desirous to cultivate your acquaintance, why should you reject my advances?"

"I reject no man's advances, " answered Zicci. "I must know them, ifthey so desire; but me, in return, they can never comprehend. If youask my acquaintance, it is yours; but I would warn you to shun me. "

"And why are you then so dangerous?"

"Some have found me so; if I were to predict your fortune by the vaincalculations of the astrologer, I should tell you, in their despicablejargon, that my planet sat darkly in your house of life. Cross me not, if you can avoid it. I warn you now for the first time and last. "

"You despise the astrologers, yet you utter a jargon as mysterious astheirs. I neither gamble nor quarrel: why then should I fear you?"

"As you will; I have done. "

"Let me speak frankly: your conversation last night interested andamused me. "

"I know it; minds like yours are attracted by mystery. "

Glyndon was piqued at those words, though in the tone in which they werespoken there was no contempt. 

"I see you do not consider me worthy of your friendship be it so. Goodday. "

Zicci coldly replied to the salutation, and as the Englishman rode on, returned to his botanical employment. 

The same night Glyndon went, as usual, to the theatre. He was standingbehind the scenes watching Isabel, who was on the stage in one of hermost brilliant parts. The house resounded with applause. Glyndon wastransported with a young man's passion and a young man's pride. "Thisglorious creature, " thought he, "may yet be mine. "

He felt, while thus rapt in delicious revery, a slight touch upon hisshoulder; he turned, and beheld Zicci. "You are in danger, " said thelatter. "Do not walk home to-night; or if you do, go not alone. "

Before Glyndon recovered from his surprise, Zicci disappeared; and whenthe Englishman saw him again, he was in the box of one of the Neapolitanministers, where Glyndon could not follow him. 

Isabel now left the stage, and Glyndon accosted her with impassionedgallantry. The actress was surprisingly beautiful; of fair complexionand golden hair, her countenance was relieved from the tame and gentleloveliness which the Italians suppose to be the characteristics ofEnglish beauty, by the contrast of dark eyes and lashes, by a foreheadof great height, to which the dark outline of the eyebrows gave something of majesty and command. In spite of the slightness of virginyouth, her proportions had the nobleness, blent with the delicacy, thatbelongs to the masterpieces of ancient sculpture; and there was aconscious pride in her step, and in the swanlike bend of her statelyhead, as she turned with an evident impatience from the address of herlover. Taking aside an old woman, who was her constant and confidentialattendant at the theatre, she said, in an earnest whisper, --

"Oh, Gionetta, he is here again! I have seen him again! And again, healone of the whole theatre withholds from me his applause. He scarcelyseems to notice me; his indifference mortifies me to the soul, --I couldweep for rage and sorrow. "

"Which is he, my darling?" said the old woman, with fondness in hervoice. "He must be dull, --not worth thy thoughts. "

The actress drew Gionetta nearer to the stage, and pointed out to her aman in one of the nearer boxes, conspicuous amongst all else by thesimplicity of his dress and the extraordinary beauty of his features. 

"Not worth a thought, Gionetta, " repeated Isabel, --"not worth a thought!Saw you ever one so noble, so godlike?"

"By the Holy Mother!" answered Gionetta, "he is a proper man, and hasthe air of a prince. "

The prompter summoned the Signora Pisani. "Find out his name, Gionetta, " said she, sweeping on to the stage, and passing by Glyndon, who gazed at her with a look of sorrowful reproach. 

The scene on which the actress now entered was that of the finalcatastrophe, wherein all her remarkable powers of voice and art werepre-eminently called forth. The house hung on every word withbreathless worship, but the eyes of Isabel sought only those of one calmand unmoved spectator; she exerted herself as if inspired. The strangerlistened, and observed her with an attentive gaze, but no approvalescaped his lips, no emotion changed the expression of his cold andhalf-disdainful aspect. Isabel, who was in the character of a jealousand abandoned mistress, never felt so acutely the part she played. Hertears were truthful; her passion that of nature: it was almost tooterrible to behold. She was borne from the stage, exhausted andinsensible, amidst such a tempest of admiring rapture as Continentalaudiences alone can raise. The crowd stood up, handkerchiefs waved, garlands and flowers were thrown on the stage, men wiped their eyes, andwomen sobbed aloud. 

"By heavens!" said a Neapolitan of great rank, "she has fired me beyondendurance. To-night, this very night, she shall be mine! You havearranged all, Mascari?"

"All, signor. And if this young Englishman should accompany her home?"

"The presuming barbarian! At all events let him bleed for his folly. Ihear that she admits him to secret interviews. I will have no rival. "

"But an Englishman! There is always a search after the bodies of theEnglish. "

"Fool! Is not the sea deep enough, or the earth secret enough, to hideone dead man? Our ruffians are silent as the grave itself. And I, --whowould dare to suspect, to arraign, the Prince di --? See to it, --lethim be watched, and the fitting occasion taken. I trust him to you, --robbers murder him; you understand: the country swarms with them. Plunder and strip him. Take three men; the rest shall be my escort. "

Mascari shrugged his shoulders, and bowed submissively. MeanwhileGlyndon besought Isabel, who recovered but slowly, to return home in hiscarriage. (1) She had done so once or twice before, though she hadnever permitted him to accompany her. This time she refused, and withsome petulance. Glyndon, offended, was retiring sullenly, when Gionettastopped him. "Stay, signor, " said she, coaxingly, "the dear signora isnot well: do not be angry with her; I will make her accept your offer. "

Glyndon stayed, and after a few moments spent in expostulation on thepart of Gionetta, and resistance on that of Isabel, the offer wasaccepted; the actress, with a mixture of naivete and coquetry, gave herhandy to her lover, who kissed it with delight. Gionetta and her chargeentered the carriage, and Glyndon was left at the door of the theatre, to return home on foot. The mysterious warning of Zicci then suddenlyoccurred to him; he had forgotten it in the interest of his lover'squarrel with Isabel. He thought it now advisable to guard againstdanger foretold by lips so mysterious; he looked round for some one heknew. The theatre was disgorging its crowds, who hustled and jostledand pressed upon him; but he recognized no familiar countenances. Whilepausing irresolute, he heard Merton's voice calling on him, and to hisgreat relief discovered his friend making his way through the throng. 

"I have secured you a place in the Count Cetoxa's carriage, " said he. "Come along, he is waiting for us. "

"How kind in you! How did you find me out?"

"I met Zicci in the passage. 'Your friend is at the door of thetheatre, ' said he; 'do not let him go home alone to-night the streets ofNaples are not always safe. ' I immediately remembered that some of theCalabrian bravos had been busy within the city the last few weeks, andasked Cetoxa, who was with me, to accompany you. "

Further explanation was forbidden, for they now joined the count. AsGlyndon entered the carriage and drew up the glass, he saw four menstanding apart by the pavement, who seemed to eye him with attention. 

"Cospetto!" cried one; "ecco Inglese!" Glyndon imperfectly heard theexclamation as the carriage drove on. He reached home in safety. 

"Have you discovered who he is?" asked the actress, as she was now alonein the carriage with Gionetta. 

"Yes, he is the celebrated Signor Zicci, about whom the court has runmad. They say he is so rich, --oh, so much richer than any of theInglese! But a bird in the hand, my angel, is better than--"

"Cease, " interrupted the young actress. "Zicci! Speak of theEnglishman no more. "

The carriage was now entering that more lonely and remote part of thecity in which Isabel's house was situated, when it suddenly stopped. 

Gionetta, in alarm, thrust her head out of window, and perceived by thepale light of the moon that the driver, torn from his seat, was alreadypinioned in the arms of two men; the next moment the door was openedviolently, and a tall figure, masked and mantled, appeared. 

"Fear not, fairest Pisani, " said he, gently, "no ill shall befall you. "As he spoke, he wound his arms round the form of the fair actress, andendeavored to lift her from the carriage. But the Signora Pisani wasnot an ordinary person; she had been before exposed to all the dangersto which the beauty of the low-born was subjected amongst a lawless andprofligate nobility. She thrust back the assailant with a power thatsurprised him, and in the next moment the blade of a dagger gleamedbefore his eyes. "Touch me, " said she, drawing herself to the fartherend of the carriage, "and I strike!"

The mask drew back. 

"By the body of Bacchus, a bold spirit!" said he, half laughing and halfalarmed. "Here, Luigi, Giovanni! disarm and seize her. Harm her not. "

The mask retired from the door, and another and yet taller formpresented itself. "Be calm, Isabel di Pisani, " said he, in a low voice;"with me you are indeed safe!" He lifted his mask as he spoke, andshowed the noble features of Zicci. "Be calm, be hushed; I can saveyou. " He vanished, leaving Isabel lost in surprise, agitation, anddelight. There were in all nine masks: two were engaged with thedriver; one stood at the head of the carriage-horses; a third guardedthe well-trained steeds of the party; three others, besides Zicci andthe one who had first accosted Isabel, stood apart by a carriage drawnto the side of the road. To these Zicci motioned: they advanced; hepointed towards the first mask, who was in fact the Prince di --, and tohis unspeakable astonishment the Prince was suddenly seized from behind. 

"Treason, " he cried, "treason among my own men! What means this?"

"Place him in his carriage. If he resist, shoot him!" said Zicci, calmly. 

He approached the men who had detained the coachman. "You areoutnumbered and outwitted, " said he. "Join your lord; you are threemen, --we six, armed to the teeth. Thank our mercy that we spare yourlives. Go!"

The men gave way, dismayed. The driver remounted. "Cut the traces oftheir carriage and the bridles of their horses, " said Zicci, as heentered the vehicle containing Isabel, and which now drove on rapidly, leaving the discomfited ravisher in a state of rage and stuporimpossible to describe. 

"Allow me to explain this mystery to you, " said Zicci. "I discoveredthe plot against you, --no matter how. I frustrated it thus: the head ofthis design is a nobleman who has long persecuted you in vain. He andtwo of his creatures watched you from the entrance of the theatre, having directed six others to await him on the spot where you wereattacked; myself and five of my servants supplied their place, and weremistaken for his own followers. I had previously ridden alone to thespot where the men were waiting, and informed them that their masterwould not require their services that night. They believed me, for Ishowed them his signet-ring, and accordingly dispersed; I then joined myown band, whom I had left in the rear. You know all. We are at yourdoor. "

(1) At that time in Naples carriages were both cheaper to hire, and morenecessary for strangers than they are now. 

CHAPTER III. 

Zicci was left alone with the young Italian. She had thrown aside hercloak and head-gear; her hair, somewhat dishevelled, fell down her ivoryneck, which the dress partially displayed; she seemed, as she sat inthat low and humble chamber, a very vision of light and glory. 

Zicci gazed at her with an admiration mingled with compassion; hemuttered a few words to himself, and then addressed her aloud:--

"Isabel di Pisani, I have saved you from a great peril, --not fromdishonor only, but perhaps from death. The Prince di --, under the weakgovernment of a royal child and a venal administration, is a man abovethe law. He is capable of every crime; but amongst his passions he hassuch prudence as belongs to ambition: if you were not to reconcileyourself to your shame, you would never enter the world again to tellyour tale. The ravisher has no heart for repentance, but he has ahand that can murder. I have saved thee, Isabel di Pisani. Perhapsyou would ask me wherefore?" Zicci paused, and smiled mournfully as headded: "My life is not that of others, but I am still human, --I knowpity; and more, Isabel, I can feel gratitude for affection. You loveme; it was my fate to fascinate your eye, to arouse your vanity, toinflame your imagination. It was to warn you from this folly that Iconsented for a few minutes to become your guest. The Englishman, Glyndon, loves thee well, --better than I can ever love; he may wed thee, he may bear thee to his own free and happy land, --the land of thymother's kin. Forget me, teach thyself to return and to deserve hislove; and I tell thee that thou wilt be honored and be happy. "

Isabel listened with silent wonder and deep blushes to this strangeaddress; and when the voice ceased, she covered her face with her handsand wept. 

Zicci rose. "I have fulfilled my duty to you, and I depart. Rememberthat you are still in danger from the prince; be wary, and be cautious. Your best precaution is in flight; farewell. "

"Oh, do not leave me yet! You have read a secret of which I myself wasscarcely conscious: you despise me, --you, my preserver! Ah! do notmisjudge me; I am better, higher than I seem. Since I saw thee I havebeen a new being. " The poor girl clasped her hands passionately as shespoke, and her tears streamed down her cheeks. 

"What would you that I should answer?" said Zicci, pausing, but with acold severity in his eye. 

"Say that you do not despise, --say that you do not think me light andshameless. "

"Willingly, Isabel. I know your heart and your history you are capableof great virtues; you have the seeds of a rare and powerful genius. Youmay pass through the brief period of your human life with a proud stepand a cheerful heart, if you listen to my advice. You have beenneglected from your childhood; you have been thrown among nations atonce frivolous and coarse; your nobler dispositions, your higherqualities, are not developed. You were pleased with the admiration ofGlyndon; you thought that the passionate stranger might marry you, whileothers had only uttered the vows that dishonor. Poor child, it was theinstinctive desire of right within thee that made thee listen to him;and if my fatal shadow had not crossed thy path, thou wouldst have lovedhim well enough, at least, for content. Return to that hope, and nurseagain that innocent affection: this is my answer to thee. Art thoucontented?"

"No! ah, no! Severe as thou art, I love better to hear theethan, than--What am I saying? And now you have saved me, I shall prayfor you, bless you, think of you; and am I never to see you more? Alas!the moment you leave me, danger and dread will darken round me. Let mebe your servant, your slave; with you I should have no fear. "

A dark shade fell over Zicci's brow; he looked from the ground, on whichhis eyes had rested while she spoke, upon the earnest and imploring faceof the beautiful creature that now knelt before him, with all thepassions of an ardent and pure, but wholly untutored and half-savage, nature speaking from the tearful eyes and trembling lips. He looked ather with an aspect she could not interpret; in his eyes were kindness, sorrow, and even something, she thought, of love: yet the brow frowned, and the lip was stern. 

"It is in vain that we struggle with our doom, " said he, calmly; "listento me yet. I am a man, Isabel, in whom there are some good impulses yetleft, but whose life is, on the whole, devoted to a systematic andselfish desire to enjoy whatever life can afford. To me it is given towarn: the warning neglected, I interfere no more; I leave her victoriesto that Fate that I cannot baffle of her prey. You do not understandme; no matter: what I am now about to say will be more easy tocomprehend. I tell thee to tear from thy heart all thought of me: thouhast yet the power. If thou wilt not obey me, thou must reap the seedsthat thou wilt sow. Glyndon, if thou acceptest his homage, will lovethee throughout life; I, too, can love thee. "

"You, you--"

"But with a lukewarm and selfish love, and one that cannot last. Thouwilt be a flower in my path; I inhale thy sweetness and pass on, caringnot what wind shall sup thee, or what step shall tread thee to the dust. Which is the love thou wouldst prefer?"

"But do you, can you love me, --you, you, Zicci, --even for an hour? Sayit again. "

"Yes, Isabel; I am not dead to beauty, and yours is that rarely given tothe daughters of men. Yes, Isabel, I could love thee"

Isabel uttered a cry of joy, seized his hand, and kissed it throughburning and impassioned tears. Zicci raised her in his arms andimprinted one kiss upon her forehead. 

"Do not deceive thyself, " he said; "consider well. I tell thee againthat my love is subjected to the certain curse of change. For my part, I shall seek thee no more. Thy fate shall be thine own, and not mine. For the rest, fear not the Prince di --. At present, I can save theefrom every harm. " With these words he withdrew himself from herembrace, and had gained the outer door just as Gionetta came from thekitchen with her hands full of such cheer as she had managed to collecttogether. Zicci laid his hand on the old woman's arm. 

"Signor Glyndon, " said he, "loves Isabel; he may wed her. You love yourmistress: plead for him. Disabuse her, if you can, of any caprice forme. I am a bird ever on the wing. " He dropped a purse, heavy withgold, into Gionetta's bosom, and was gone. 

CHAPTER IV. 

The palace of Zicci was among the noblest in Naples. It still stands, though ruined and dismantled, in one of those antique streets from whichthe old races of the Norman and the Spaniard have long since vanished. 

He ascended the vast staircase, and entered the rooms reserved for hisprivate hours. They were no wise remarkable except for their luxury andsplendor, and the absence of what men so learned as Zicci was reputed, generally prize, namely, books. Zicci seemed to know everything thatbooks can teach; yet of books themselves he spoke and thought with themost profound contempt. 

He threw himself on a sofa, and dismissed his attendants for the night;and here it may be observed that Zicci had no one servant who knewanything of his origin, birth, or history. Some of his attendants hehad brought with him from other cities; the rest he had engaged atNaples. He hired those only whom wealth can make subservient. Hisexpenditure was most lavish, his generosity, regal; but his orders wereever given as those of a general to his army. The least disobedience, the least hesitation, and the offender was at once dismissed. He was aman who sought tools, and never made confidants. 

Zicci remained for a considerable time motionless and thoughtful. Thehand of the clock before him pointed to the first hour of morning. Thesolemn voice of the timepiece aroused him from his revery. 

"One sand more out of the mighty hour-glass, " said he, rising; "one hournearer to the last! I am weary of humanity. I will enter into one ofthe countless worlds around me. " He lifted the arras that clothed thewalls, and touching a strong iron door (then made visible) with a minutekey which he wore in a ring, passed into an inner apartment lighted by asingle lamp of extraordinary lustre. The room was small; a few phialsand some dried herbs were ranged in shelves on the wall, which was hungwith snow-white cloth of coarse texture. From the shelves Zicciselected one of the phials, and poured the contents into a crystal cup. The liquid was colorless, and sparkled rapidly up in bubbles of light;it almost seemed to evaporate ere it reached his lips. But when thestrange beverage was quaffed, a sudden change was visible in thecountenance of Zicci: his beauty became yet more dazzling, his eyesshone with intense fire, and his form seemed to grow more youthful andethereal. 

CHAPTER V. 

The next day, Glyndon bent his steps towards Zicci's palace. The youngman's imagination, naturally inflammable, was singularly excited by thelittle he had seen and heard of this strange being; a spell he couldneither master nor account for, attracted him towards the stranger. Zicci's power seemed mysterious and great, his motives kindly andbenevolent, yet his manners chilling and repellant. Why at one momentreject Glyndon's acquaintance, at another save him from danger? How hadZicci thus acquired the knowledge of enemies unknown to Glyndon himself?His interest was deeply roused, his gratitude appealed to; he resolvedto make another effort to conciliate Zicci. 

The signor was at home, and Glyndon was admitted into a lofty saloon, where in a few moments Zicci joined him. 

"I am come to thank you for your warning last night, " said he, "and toentreat you to complete my obligation by informing me of the quarter towhich I may look for enmity and peril. "

"You are a gallant, Mr. Glyndon, " said Zicci, with a smile; "and do youknow so little of the South as not to be aware that gallants have alwaysrivals?"

"Are you serious?" said Glyndon, coloring. 

"Most serious. You love Isabel di Pisani; you have for rival one of themost powerful and relentless of the Neapolitan princes. Your danger isindeed great. "

"But, pardon me, how came it known to you?"

"I give no account of myself to mortal man, " replied Zicci, haughtily;"and to me it matters not whether you regard or scorn my warning. "

"Well, if I may not question you, be it so; but at least advise me whatto do. "

"You will not follow my advice. "

"You wrong me! Why?"

"Because you are constitutionally brave; you are fond of excitement andmystery; you like to be the hero of a romance. I should advise you toleave Naples, and you will disdain to do so while Naples contains a foeto shun or a mistress to pursue. "

"You are right, " said the young Englishman, with energy; "and you cannotreproach me for such a resolution. "

"No, there is another course left to you. Do you love Isabel di Pisanitruly and fervently? If so, marry her, and take a bride to your nativeland. "

"Nay, " answered Glyndon, embarrassed. "Isabel is not of my rank; hercharacter is strange and self-willed; her education neglected. I amenslaved by her beauty, but I cannot wed her. "

Zicci frowned. 

"Your love, then, is but selfish lust; and by that love you will bebetrayed. Young man, Destiny is less inexorable than it appears. Theresources of the great Ruler of the Universe are not so scanty and sostern as to deny to men the divine privilege of Free Will; all of us cancarve out our own way, and God can make our very contradictionsharmonize with His solemn ends. You have before you an option. Honorable and generous love may even now work out your happiness andeffect your escape; a frantic and interested passion will but lead youto misery and doom. "

"Do you pretend, then, to read the Future?"

"I have said all that it pleases me to utter. "

"While you assume the moralist to me, Signor Zicci, " said Glyndon, witha smile, "if report says true you do not yourself reject the allurementsof unfettered love. "

"If it were necessary that practice square with precept, " said Zicci, with a sneer, "our pulpits would be empty. Do you think it matters, inthe great aggregate of human destinies, what one man's conduct may be?Nothing, --not a grain of dust; but it matters much what are thesentiments he propagates. His acts are limited and momentary; hissentiments may pervade the universe, and inspire generations till theday of doom. All our virtues, all our laws, are drawn from books andmaxims, which are sentiments, not from deeds. Our opinions, youngEnglishman, are the angel part of us; our acts the earthly. "

"You have reflected deeply, for an Italian, " said Glyndon. 

"Who told you I was an Italian?"

"Are you not of Corsica?"

"Tush!" said Zicci, impatiently turning away. Then, after a pause, heresumed, in a mild voice: "Glyndon, do you renounce Isabel di Pisani?Will you take three days to consider of what I have said?"

"Renounce her, --never!"

"Then you will marry her?"

"Impossible. "

"Be it so; she will then renounce you. I tell you that you haverivals. "

"Yes, the Prince di --; but I do not fear him. "

"You have another, whom you will fear more. "

"And who is he?"

"Myself. "

Glyndon turned pale, and started from his seat. 

"You, Signor Zicci, you, --and you dare to tell me so?"

"Dare! Alas! you know there is nothing on earth left me to fear!"

These words were not uttered arrogantly, but in a tone of the mostmournful dejection. Glyndon was enraged, confounded, and yet awed. However, he had a brave English heart within his breast, and herecovered himself quickly. 

"Signor, " said he, calmly, "I am not to be duped by these solemn phrasesand these mystical sympathies. You may have power which I cannotcomprehend or emulate, or you may be but a keen impostor. "

"Well, sir, your logical position is not ill-taken; proceed. "

"I mean then, " continued Glyndon, resolutely, though somewhatdisconcerted, "I mean you to understand, that, though I am not to bepersuaded or compelled by a stranger to marry Isabel di Pisani, I am notthe less determined never tamely to yield her to another. "

Zicci looked gravely at the young man, whose sparkling eyes andheightened color testified the spirit to support his words, and replied:"So bold! well, it becomes you. You have courage, then; I thought it. Perhaps it may be put to a sharper test than you dream of. But take myadvice: wait three days, and tell me then if you will marry this youngperson. "

"But if you love her, why, why--"

"Why am I anxious that she should wed another? To save her from myself!Listen to me. That girl, humble and uneducated though she be, has inher the seeds of the most lofty qualities and virtues. She can be allto the man she loves, --all that man can desire in wife or mistress. Hersoul, developed by affection, will elevate your own; it will influenceyour fortunes, exalt your destiny; you will become a great andprosperous man. If, on the contrary, she fall to me, I know not whatmay be her lot; but I know that few can pass the ordeal, and hitherto nowoman has survived the struggle. "

As Zicci spoke, his face became livid, and there was something in hisvoice that froze the warm blood of his listener. 

"What is this mystery which surrounds you?" exclaimed Glyndon, unable torepress his emotion. "Are you, in truth, different from other men?Have you passed the boundary of lawful knowledge? Are you, as somedeclare, a sorcerer, only a--"

"Hush!" interrupted Zicci, gently, and with a smile of singular butmelancholy sweetness: "have you earned the right to ask me thesequestions? The clays of torture and persecution are over; and a man maylive as he pleases, and talk as it suits him, without fear of the stakeand the rack. Since I can defy persecution, pardon me if I do notsuccumb to curiosity. "

Glyndon blushed, and rose. In spite of his love for Isabel, and hisnatural terror of such a rival, he felt himself irresistibly drawntowards the very man he had most cause to suspect and dread. It waslike the fascination of the basilisk. He held out his hand to Zicci, saying, "Well, then, if we are to be rivals, our swords must settle ourrights; till then I would fain be friends. "

"Friends! Pardon me, I like you too well to give you my friendship. You know not what you ask. "

"Enigmas again!"

"Enigmas!" cried Zicci, passionately, "Nay: can you dare to solve them!Would you brave all that human heart can conceive of peril and ofhorror, so that you at last might stand separated from this visibleuniverse side by side with me? When you can dare this, and when you arefit to dare it, I may give you my right hand and call you friend. "

"I could dare everything and all things for the attainment of superhumanwisdom, " said Glyndon; and his countenance was lighted up with wild andintense enthusiasm. 

Zicci observed him in thoughtful silence. 

"He may be worthy, " he muttered; "he may, yet--" He broke off abruptly;then, speaking aloud, "Go, Glyndon, " said he; "in three days we shallmeet again. "

"Where?"

"Perhaps where you can least anticipate. In any case, we shall meet. "

CHAPTER VI. 

Glyndon thought seriously and deeply over all that the mysterious Ziccihad said to him relative to Isabel. His imagination was inflamed by thevague and splendid promises that were connected with his marriage withthe poor actress. His fears, too, were naturally aroused by the threatthat by marriage alone could he save himself from the rivalry of Zicci, --Zicci, born to dazzle and command; Zicci, who united to the apparentwealth of a monarch the beauty of a god; Zicci, whose eye seemed toforesee, whose hand to frustrate, every danger. What a rival, and whata foe!

But Glyndon's pride, as well as jealousy, was aroused. He was bravecomme son epee. Should he shrink from the power or the enmity of a manmortal as himself? And why should Zicci desire him to give his name andstation to one of a calling so equivocal? Might there not be motives hecould not fathom? Might not the actress and the Corsican be in leaguewith each other? Might not all this jargon of prophecy--and menace bebut artifices to dupe him, --the tool, perhaps, of a mountebank and hismistress! Mistress, --ah, no! If ever maidenhood wrote its modestcharacters externally, that pure eye, that noble forehead, that mien andmanner so ingenuous even in their coquetry, their pride, assured himthat Isabel was not the base and guilty thing he had dared for a momentto suspect her. Lost in a labyrinth of doubts and surmises, Glyndonturned on the practical sense of the sober Merton to assist andenlighten him. 

As may be well supposed, his friend listened to his account of hisinterview with Zicci with a half-suppressed and ironical smile. 

"Excellent, my dear friend! This Zicci is another Apollonius of Tyana, --nothing less will satisfy you. What! is it possible that you are theClarence Glyndon of whose career such glowing hopes are entertained, --you the man whose genius has been extolled by all the graybeards? Not aboy turned out from a village school but would laugh you to scorn. Andso because Signor Zicci tells you that you will be a marvellously greatman if you revolt all your friends and blight all your prospects bymarrying a Neapolitan actress, you begin already to think of--By Jupiter! I cannot talk patiently on the subject. Let the girlalone, --that would be the proper plan; or else--"

"You talk very sensibly, " interrupted Glyndon, "but you distract me. Iwill go to Isabel's house; I will see her; I will judge for myself. "

"That is certainly the best way to forget her, " said Merton. Glyndonseized his hat and sword, and was gone. 

CHAPTER VII. 

She was seated outside her door, the young actress. The sea, which inthat heavenly bay literally seems to sleep in the arms of the shore, bounded the view in front; while to the right, not far off, rose thedark and tangled crags to which the traveller of to-day is daily broughtto gaze on the tomb of Virgil, or compare with the Cavern of Pausilippothe archway of Highgate Hill. There were a few fishermen loitering bythe cliffs, on which their nets were hung up to dry; and, at a distance, the sound of some rustic pipe (more common at that day than in this), mingled now and then with the bells of the lazy mules, broke thevoluptuous silence, --the silence of declining noon on the shores ofNaples. Never till you have enjoyed it, never till you have felt itsenervating but delicious charm, believe that you can comprehend all themeaning of the dolce far niente; and when that luxury has been known, when you have breathed the atmosphere of fairy land, then you will nolonger wonder why the heart ripens with so sudden and wild a powerbeneath the rosy skies and amidst the glorious foliage of the South. 

The young actress was seated by the door of her house; overhead a rudecanvas awning sheltered her from the sun; on her lap lay the manuscriptof a new part in which she was shortly to appear. By her side was theguitar on which she had been practising the airs that were to ravish theears of the cognoscenti. But the guitar had been thrown aside indespair; her voice this morning did not obey her will. The manuscriptlay unheeded, and the eyes of the actress were fixed on the broad, bluedeep beyond. In the unwonted negligence of her dress might be tracedthe abstraction of her mind. Her beautiful hair was gathered uploosely, and partially bandaged by a kerchief, whose purple color seemedto deepen the golden hue of the tresses. A stray curl escaped, and felldown the graceful neck. A loose morning robe, girded by a sash, leftthe breeze that came ever and anon from the sea to die upon the busthalf disclosed, and the tiny slipper, that Cinderella might have worn, seemed a world too wide for the tiny foot which it scarcely covered. Itmight be the heat of the day that deepened the soft bloom of the cheeksand gave an unwonted languor to the large dark eyes. In all the pomp ofher stage attire, in all the flush of excitement before the intoxicatinglamps, never had Isabel looked so lovely. 

By the side of the actress, and filling up the threshold, stoodGionetta, with her hands thrust up to the elbow in two huge recesses oneither side her gown, --pockets, indeed, they might be called bycourtesy; such pockets as Beelzebub's grandmother might have shaped forherself, bottomless pits in miniature. 

"But I assure you, " said the nurse, in that sharp, quick, earsplittingtone in which the old women of the South are more than a match for thoseof the North, --"but I assure you, my darling, that there is not a finercavalier in all Naples, nor a more beautiful, than this Inglese; and Iam told that all the Inglesi are much richer than they seem. Thoughthey have no trees in their country, poor people, and instead of twenty-four they have only twelve hours to the day, yet I hear, cospetto! thatthey shoe their horses with steak; and since they cannot (the poorheretics!) turn grapes into wine, for they have no grapes, they turngold into physic, and take a glass or two of pistoles whenever they aretroubled with the colic. But you don't hear me! Little pupil of myeyes, you don't hear me!"

"Gionetta, is he not god-like?"

"Sancta Maria! he is handsome, bellissimo; and when you are his wife, --for they say these English are never satisfied unless they marry--"

"Wife! English! Whom are you talking of?"

"Why, the young English signor, to be sure. "

"Chut! I thought you spoke of Zicci. "

"Oh! Signor Zicci is very rich and very generous; but hewants to be your cavalier, not your husband. I see that, --leave mealone. When you are married, then you will see how amiable Signor Zicciwill be. Oh, per fede! but he will be as close to your husband as theyolk to the white; that he will. 

"Silence, Gionetta! How wretched I am to have no one else to speak to--to advise me. Oh, beautiful sun!" and the girl pressed her hand to herheart with wild energy, "why do you light every spot but this? Dark, dark! And a little while ago I was so calm, so innocent, so gay. I didnot hate you then, Gionetta, hateful as your talk was; I hate you now. Go in; leave me alone--leave me. "

"And indeed it is time I should leave you, for the polenta will bespoiled, and you have eaten nothing all day. If you don't eat you willlose your beauty, my darling, and then nobody will care for you. Nobodycares for us when we grow ugly, --I know that; and then you must, likeold Gionetta, get some Isabel of your own to spoil. I'll go and see tothe polenta. "

"Since I have known this man, " said the actress, half aloud, "since hisdark eyes have fascinated me, I am no longer the same. I long to escapefrom myself, --to glide with the sunbeam over the hill-tops; to becomesomething that is not of earth. Is it, indeed, that he is a sorcerer, as I have heard? Phantoms float before me at night, and a flutteringlike the wing of a bird within my heart seems as if the spirit wereterrified, and would break its cage. "

While murmuring these incoherent rhapsodies, a step that she did nothear approached the actress, and a light hand touched her arm. 

"Isabella! carissima! Isabella!"

She turned, and saw Glyndon. The sight of his fair young face calmedher at once. She did not love him, yet his sight gave her pleasure. She had for him a kind and grateful feeling. Ah, if she had neverbeheld Zicci!

"Isabel, " said the Englishman, drawing her again to the bench from whichshe had risen, and seating himself beside her, "you know howpassionately I love thee. Hitherto thou hast played with my impatienceand my ardor, thou hast sometimes smiled, sometimes frowned away myimportunities for a reply to my suit; but this day--I know not how itis--I feel a more sustained and settled courage to address thee, andlearn the happiest or the worst. I have rivals, I know, --rivals who aremore powerful than the poor artist. Are they also more favored?"

Isabel blushed faintly, but her countenance was grave and distressed. Looking down, and marking some hieroglyphical figures in the dust withthe point of her slipper, she said, with some hesitation and a vainattempt to be gay, "Signor, whoever wastes his thoughts on an actressmust submit to have rivals. It is our unhappy destiny not to be sacredeven to ourselves. "

"But you have told me, Isabel, that you do not love this destiny, glittering though it seem, --that your heart is not in the vocation whichyour talents adorn. "

"Ah, no!" said the actress, her eyes filling with tears, "it is amiserable lot to be slave to a multitude. "

"Fly then with me, " said the artist, passionately. "Quit forever thecalling that divides that heart I would have all my own. Share my fatenow and forever, --my pride, my delight, my ideal! Thou shalt inspire mycanvas and my song, thy beauty shall be made at once holy and renowned. In the galleries of princes crowds shall gather round the effigy of aVenus or a saint, and a whisper shall break forth, 'It is Isabel diPisani!' Ah! Isabel, I adore thee: tell me that I do not worship invain. "

"Thou art good and fair, " said Isabel, gazing on her lover as he pressedhis cheek nearer to hers, and clasped her hand in his. "But what shouldI give thee in return?"

"Love, love; only love!"

"A sister's love?"

"Ah, speak not with such cruel coldness!"

"It is all I have for thee. Listen to me, signor. When I look on yourface, when I hear your voice, a certain serene and tranquil calm creepsover and lulls thoughts, oh, how feverish, how wild! When thou artgone, the day seems a shade more dark; but the shadow soon flies. Imiss thee not, I think not of thee, --no, I love thee not; and I willgive myself only where I love. "

"But I would teach thee to love me, --fear it not. Nay, such love asthou now describest in our tranquil climates is the love of innocenceand youth. "

"And it is the innocence he would destroy, " said Isabel, rather toherself than to him. 

Glyndon drew back, conscience-stricken. 

"No, it may not be!" she said, rising, and extricating her hand gentlyfrom his grasp. "Leave me, and forget me. You do not understand, youcould not comprehend, the nature of her whom you think to love. From mychildhood upward, I have felt as if I were marked out for some strangeand preternatural doom; as if I were singled from my kind. This feeling(and, oh! at times it is one of delirious and vague delight, at othersof the darkest gloom) deepens with me day by day. It is like the shadowof twilight, spreading slowly and solemnly round. My hour approaches; alittle while, and it will be night!"

As she spoke, Glyndon listened with visible emotion and perturbation. "Isabel!" he exclaimed, as she ceased, "your words more than everenchain me to you. As you feel, I feel. I, too, have been ever hauntedwith a chill and unearthly foreboding. Amidst the crowds of men I havefelt alone. In all my pleasures, my toils, my pursuits, a warning voicehas murmured in my ear, 'Time has a dark mystery in store for thymanhood. ' When you spoke it was as the voice of my own soul. "

Isabel gazed upon him in wonder and fear. Her countenance was as whiteas marble, and those features, so divine in their rare symmetry, mighthave served the Greek with a study for the Pythoness when, from themystic cavern and the bubbling spring, she first hears the voice of theinspiring god. Gradually the rigor and tension of that wonderful facerelaxed, the color returned, the pulse beat, the heart animated theframe. 

"Tell me, " she said, turning partially aside, "tell me, have you seen, do you know, a stranger in this city, --one of whom wild stories areafloat?"

"You speak of Zicci. I have seen him; I know him! And you? Ah! he, too, would be my rival, --he, too, would bear thee from me!"

"You err, " said Isabel, hastily and with a deep sigh, --"he pleads foryou; he informed me of your love; he besought me not--not to reject it. "

"Strange being, incomprehensible enigma, why did you name him?"

"Why? Ah! I would have asked whether, when you first saw him, theforeboding, the instinct, of which you spoke came on you more fearfully, more intelligibly than before; whether you felt at once repelled fromhim, yet attracted towards him; whether you felt [and the actress spokewith hurried animation] that with Him was connected the secret of yourlife!"

"All this I felt, " answered Glyndon, in a trembling voice, "the firsttime I was in his presence. Though all around me was gay, --music, amidst lamp-lit trees, light converse near, and heaven without a cloudabove, --my knees knocked together, my hair bristled, and my bloodcurdled like ice; since then he has divided my thoughts with thee. "

"No more, no more, " said Isabel, in a stifled tone; "there must be thehand of Fate in this. I can speak no more to you now; farewell. "

She sprang past him into the house and closed the door. Glyndon did notdare to follow her, nor, strange as it may seem, was he so inclined. The thought and recollection of that moonlight hour in the gardens, ofthe strange address of Zicci, froze up all human passion; Isabelherself, if not forgotten, shrank back like a shadow into the recessesof his breast. He shivered as he stepped into the sunlight, andmusingly retraced his steps into the more populous parts of thatliveliest of Italian cities. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

It was a small cabinet; the walls were covered with pictures, one ofwhich was worth more than the whole lineage of the owner of the palace. Is not Art a wonderful thing? A Venetian noble might be a fribble or anassassin, a scoundrel, or a dolt, worthless, or worse than worthless;yet he might have sat to Titian, and his portrait may be inestimable, --afew inches of painted canvas a thousand times more valuable than a manwith his veins and muscles, brain, will, heart, and intellect!

In this cabinet sat a man of about three and forty, --dark-eyed, sallow, with short, prominent features, a massive conformation of jaw, andthick, sensual, but resolute lips; this man was the Prince di --. Hisform, middle-sized, but rather inclined to corpulence, was clothed in aloose dressing-robe of rich brocade; on a table before him lay his swordand hat, a mask, dice and dice-box, a portfolio, and an inkstand ofsilver curiously carved. 

"Well, Mascari, " said the Prince, looking up towards his parasite, whostood by the embrasure of the deep-set barricaded window, "well, youcannot even guess who this insolent meddler was? A pretty person you toact the part of a Prince's Ruffiano!"

"Am I to be blamed for dulness in not being able to conjecture who hadthe courage to thwart the projects of the Prince di --. As well blameme for not accounting for miracles. "

"I will tell thee who it was, most sapient Mascari. "

"Who, your Excellency?"

"Zicci. "

"Ah! he has the daring of the devil. But why does your Excellency feelso assured, --does he court the actress?"

"I know not; but there is a tone in that foreigner's voice that I nevercan mistake, --so clear, and yet so hollow; when I hear it I almost fancythere is such a thing as conscience. However, we must rid ourselves ofan impertinent. Mascari, Signor Zicci hath not yet honored our poorhouse with his presence. He is a distinguished stranger, --we must givea banquet in his honor. "

"Ah! and the cypress wine! The cypress is the proper emblem of thegrave. "

"But this anon. I am superstitious; there are strange stories of hispower and foresight, --remember the Sicilian quackery! But meanwhile thePisani--"

"Your Excellency is infatuated. The actress has bewitched you. "

"Mascari, " said the Prince, with a haughty smile, "through these veinsrolls the blood of the old Visconti, --of those who boasted that no womanever escaped their lust, and no man their resentment. The crown of myfathers has shrunk into a gewgaw and a toy, --their ambition and theirspirit are undecayed. My honor is now enlisted in this pursuit: Isabelmust be mine. "

"Another ambuscade?" said Mascari, inquiringly. 

"Nay, why not enter the house itself? The situation is lonely, and thedoor is not made of iron. "

Before Mascari could reply, the gentleman of the chamber announced theSignor Zicci. 

The Prince involuntarily laid his hand on the sword placed on the table;then, with a smile at his own impulse, rose, and met the foreigner atthe threshold with all the profuse and respectful courtesy of Italiansimulation. 

"This is an honor highly prized, " said the Prince; "I have long desiredthe friendship of one so distinguished--"

"And I have come to give you that friendship, " replied Zicci, in a sweetbut chilling voice. "To no man yet in Naples have I extended this hand:permit it, Prince, to grasp your own. "

The Neapolitan bowed over the hand he pressed; but as he touched it, ashiver came over him, and his heart stood still. 

Zicci bent on him his dark, smiling eyes, and then seated himself with afamiliar air. 

"Thus it is signed and sealed, --I mean our friendship, noble Prince. And now I will tell you the object of my visit. I find, yourExcellency, that, unconsciously perhaps, we are rivals. Can we notaccommodate our pretensions? A girl of no moment, an actress, bah! itis not worth a quarrel. Shall we throw for her? He who casts thelowest shall resign his claim?"

Mascari opened his small eyes to their widest extent; the Prince, noless surprised, but far too well world-read even to show what he felt, laughed aloud. 

"And were you, then, the cavalier who spoiled my night's chase androbbed me of my white doe? By Bacchus, it was prettily done. "

"You must forgive me, my Prince; I knew not who it was, or my respectwould have silenced my gallantry. "

"All stratagems fair in love, as in war. Of course you profited by mydefeat, and did not content yourself with leaving the little actress ather threshold?"

"She is Diana for me, " answered Zicci, lightly; "whoever wins the wreathwill not find a flower faded. "

"And now you would cast for her, --well; but they tell me you are ever asure player. "

"Let Signor Mascari cast for us. "

"Be it so. Mascari, the dice. "

Surprised and perplexed, the parasite took up the three dice, depositedthem gravely in the box, and rattled them noisily, while Zicci threwhimself back carelessly in his chair and said, "I give the first chanceto your Excellency. "

Mascari interchanged a glance with his patron and threw the numbers weresixteen. 

"It is a high throw, " said Zicci, calmly; "nevertheless, Signor Mascari, I do not despond. "

Mascari gathered up the dice, shook the box, and rolled the contentsonce more upon the table; the number was the highest that can bethrown, --eighteen. 

The Prince darted a glance of fire at his minion, who stoodwith gaping mouth staring at the dice, and shaking his head in puzzledwonder. 

"I have won, you see, " said Zicci: "may we be friends still?"

"Signor, " said the Prince, obviously struggling with angel andconfusion, "the victory is already yours. But, pardon me, you havespoken lightly of this young girl, --will anything tempt you to yieldyour claim?"

"Ah, do not think so ill of my gallantry. "

"Enough, " said the Prince, forcing a smile, "I yield. Let me prove thatI do not yield ungraciously: will you honor me with your presence at alittle feast I propose to give on the royal birthday?"

"It is indeed a happiness to hear one command of yours which I canobey. "

Zicci then turned the conversation, talked lightly and gayly and soonafterwards departed. 

"Villain, " then exclaimed the Prince, grasping Mascari by the collar, "you have betrayed me!"

"I assure your Excellency that the dice were properly arranged, --heshould have thrown twelve; but he is the Devil, and that's the end ofit. "

"There is no time to be lost, " said the Prince, quitting hold of hisparasite, who quietly resettled his cravat. 

"My blood is up! I will win this girl, if I die for it. Who laughed?Mascari, didst thou laugh?"

"I, your Excellency, --I laugh?"

"It sounded behind me, " said the Prince, gazing round. 

CHAPTER IX. 

It was the day on which Zicci had told Glyndon that he should ask forhis decision in respect to Isabel, --the third day since their lastmeeting. The Englishman could not come to a resolution. Ambition, hitherto the leading passion of his soul, could not yet be silenced bylove, and that love, such as it was, unreturned, beset by suspicions anddoubts which vanished in the presence of Isabel, and returned when herbright face shone on his eyes no more, for les absents ont toujourstort. Perhaps had he been quite alone, his feelings of honor, ofcompassion, of virtue, might have triumphed, and he would have resolvedeither to fly from Isabel or to offer the love that has no shame. ButMerton, cold, cautious, experienced, wary (such a nature has ever powerover the imaginative and the impassioned), was at hand to ridicule theimpression produced by Zicci, and the notion of delicacy and honortowards an Italian actress. It is true that Merton, who was noprofligate, advised him to quit all pursuit of Isabel; but then theadvice was precisely of that character which, if it deadens love, stimulates passion. By representing Isabel as one who sought to play apart with him, he excused to Glyndon his own selfishness, --he enlistedthe Englishman's vanity and pride on the side of his pursuit. Whyshould not he beat an adventuress at her own weapons?

Glyndon not only felt indisposed on that day to meet Zicci, but he feltalso a strong desire to defeat the mysterious prophecy that the meetingshould take place. Into this wish Merton readily entered. The youngmen agreed to be absent from Naples that day. Early in the morning theymounted their horses and took the road to Baiae. Glyndon left word athis hotel that if Signor Zicci sought him, it was in the neighborhood ofthe once celebrated watering-place of the ancients that he should befound. 

They passed by Isabel's house; but Glyndon resisted the temptation ofpausing there, and threading the grotto of Pausilippo, they wound by acircuitous route back into the suburbs of the city, and took theopposite road, which conducts to Portici and Pompeii. It was late atnoon when they arrived at the former of these places. Here they haltedto dine; for Merton had heard much of the excellence of the macaroni atPortici, and Merton was a bon vivant. 

They put up at an inn of very humble pretensions, and dined under anawning. Merton was more than usually gay; he pressed the lacryma uponhis friend, and conversed gayly. "Well, my dear friend, we have foiledSignor Zicci in one of his predictions at least. You will have no faithin him hereafter. "

"The Ides are come, not gone. "

"Tush! if he is a soothsayer, you are not Caesar. It is your vanitythat makes you credulous. Thank Heaven, I do not think myself of suchimportance that the operations of Nature should be changed in order tofrighten me. "

"But why should the operations of Nature be changed? There may be adeeper philosophy than we dream of, --a philosophy that discovers thesecrets of Nature, but does not alter, by penetrating, its courses. "

"Ah! you suppose Zicci to be a prophet, --a reader of the future; perhapsan associate of Genii and Spirits!"

"I know not what to conjecture; but I see no reason why he should seek, even if an impostor, to impose on me. An impostor must have some motivefor deluding us, --either ambition or avarice. I am neither rich norpowerful; Zicci spends more in a week than I do in a year. Nay, aNeapolitan banker told me that the sums invested by Zicci in his hands, were enough to purchase half the lands of the Neapolitan noblesse. "

"Grant this to be true: do you suppose the love to dazzle and mystify isnot as strong with some natures as that of gold and power with others?Zicci has a moral ostentation; and the same character that makes himrival kings in expenditure makes him not disdain to be wondered at evenby a humble Englishman. "

Here the landlord, a little, fat, oily fellow, came up with a freshbottle of lacryma. He hoped their Excellencies were pleased. He wasmost touched, --touched to the heart that they liked the macaroni. Weretheir Excellencies going to Vesuvius? There was a slight eruption; theycould not see it where they were, but it was pretty, and would beprettier still after sunset. 

"A capital idea, " cried Merton. "What say you, Glyndon?"

"I have not yet seen an eruption; I should like it much. "

"But is there no danger?" said the prudent Merton. 

"Oh! not at all; the mountain is very civil at present. It only plays alittle, just to amuse their Excellencies the English. "

"Well, order the horses, and bring the bill; we will go before it isdark. Clarence, my friend, nunc est bibendum; but take care of the pedelibero, which won't do for walking on lava!"

The bottle was finished, the bill paid, the gentlemen mounted, thelandlord bowed, and they bent their way in the cool of the delightfulevening towards Resina. 

The wine animated Glyndon, whose unequal spirits were at times high andbrilliant as those of a school-boy released; and the laughter of theNorthern tourists sounded oft and merrily along the melancholy domainsof buried cities. 

Hesperus had lighted his lamp amidst the rosy skies as they arrived atResina. Here they quitted their horses and took mules and a guide. As the sky grew darker and more dark, the Mountain Fire burned with anintense lustre. In various streaks and streamlets the fountain of flamerolled down the dark summit, then undiminished by the eruption of 1822, and the Englishmen began to feel increase upon them, as they ascended, that sensation of solemnity and awe which makes the very atmosphere thatsurrounds the giant of the Plains of the Antique Hades. 

It was night when, leaving the mules, they ascended on foot, accompaniedby their guide and a peasant, who bore a rude torch. Their guide was aconversable, garrulous fellow, like most of his country and his calling;and Merton, whose chief characteristics were a sociable temper and ahardy commonsense, loved to amuse or to instruct himself on everyincidental occasion. 

"Ah, Excellency, " said the guide, "your countrymen have a strong passionfor the volcano. Long life to them; they bring us plenty of money. Ifour fortunes depended on the Neapolitans, we should starve. "

"True, they have no curiosity, " said Merton. "Do you remember, Glyndon, the contempt with which that old count said to us, 'You will go toVesuvius, I suppose. I have never been: why should I go? You havecold, you have hunger, you have fatigue, you have danger, and all fornothing but to see fire, which looks just as well in a brazier as amountain. ' Ha! ha! the old fellow was right. "

"But, Excellency, " said the guide, "that is not all: some cavaliersthink to ascend the mountain without our help. I am sure they deserveto tumble into the crater. "

"They must be bold fellows to go alone: you don't often find such?"

"Sometimes among the French, signor. But the other night--I never wasso frightened. I had been with an English party, and a lady had left apocket-book on the mountain where she had been sketching. She offeredme a handsome sum to return for it, and bring it to her at Naples; so Iwent in the evening. I found it sure enough, and was about to return, when I saw a figure that seemed to emerge from the crater itself. Theair was so pestiferous that I could not have conceived a human creaturecould breathe it and live. I was so astounded that I stood as still asa stone, till the figure came over the hot ashes and stood before meface to face. Sancta Maria, what a head!"

"What, hideous?"

"No, so beautiful, but so terrible. It had nothing human in itsaspect. "

"And what said the salamander?"

"Nothing! It did not even seem to perceive me, though I was as near asI am to you; but its eyes seemed prying into the air. It passed by mequickly, and, walking across a stream of burning lava, soon vanished onthe other side of the mountain. I was curious and foolhardy, andresolved to see if I could bear the atmosphere which this visitor hadleft; but though I did not advance within thirty yards of the spot atwhich he had first appeared, I was driven back by a vapor that well-nighstifled me. Cospetto! I have spit blood ever since. "

"It must be Zicci, " whispered Glyndon. 

"I knew you would say so, " returned Merton, laughing. 

The little party had now arrived nearly at the summit of the mountain;and unspeakably grand was the spectacle on which they gazed. From thecrater arose a vapor, intensely dark, that overspread the wholebackground of the heavens, in the centre whereof rose a flame thatassumed a form singularly beautiful. It might have been compared to acrest of gigantic feathers, the diadem of the mountain, high arched, anddrooping downward, with the hues delicately shaded off, and the wholeshifting and tremulous as the plumage on a warrior's helm. The glare ofthe flame spread, luminous and crimson, over the dark and rugged groundon which they stood, and drew an innumerable variety of shadows fromcrag and hollow. An oppressive and sulphureous exhalation served toincrease the gloomy and sublime terror of the place. But on turningfrom the mountain, and towards the distant and unseen ocean, thecontrast was wonderfully great: the heavens serene and blue, the starsstill and calm as the eyes of Divine Love. It was as if the realms ofthe opposing principles of Evil and Good were brought in one view beforethe gaze of man! Glyndon--the enthusiast, the poet, the artist, thedreamer--was enchained and entranced by emotions vague and undefinable, half of delight and half of pain. Leaning on the shoulder of hisfriend, he gazed around him, and heard, with deepening awe, the rumblingof the earth below, the wheels and voices of the Ministry of Nature inher darkest and most inscrutable recess. Suddenly, as a bomb from ashell, a huge stone was flung hundreds of yards up from the jaws of thecrater, and falling with a mighty crash upon the rock below, split intoten thousand fragments, which bounded down the sides of the mountain, sparkling and groaning as they went. One of these, the largestfragment, struck the narrow space of soil between the Englishman and theguide, not three feet from the spot where the former stood. Mertonuttered an exclamation of terror, and Glyndon held his breath andshuddered. "Diavolo!" cried the guide; "descend, Excellencies, descend! We have not a moment to lose; follow me close. "

So saying, the guide and the peasant fled with as much swiftness as theywere able to bring to bear. Merton, ever more prompt and ready than hisfriend, imitated their example; and Glyndon, more confused than alarmed, followed close. But they had not gone many yards before, with a rushingand sudden blast, came from the crater an enormous volume of vapor. Itpursued, it overtook, it overspread them; it swept the light from theheavens. All was abrupt and utter darkness, and through the gloom washeard the shout of the guide, already distant, and lost in an instantamidst the sound of the rushing gust and the groans of the earthbeneath. Glyndon paused. He was separated from his friend, from theguide. He was alone with the Darkness and the Terror. The vapor rolledsullenly away; the form of the plumed fire was again dimly visible, andits struggling and perturbed reflection again shed a glow over thehorrors of the path. Glyndon recovered himself, and sped onward. Below, he heard the voice of Merton calling on him, though he no longersaw his form. The sound served as a guide. Dizzy and breathless, hebounded forward, when hark! a sullen, slow, rolling sound in his ear!He halted, and turned back to gaze. The fire had overflowed its course;it had opened itself a channel amidst the furrows of the mountain. Thestream pursued him fast, fast, and the hot breath of the chasing andpreternatural foe came closer and closer upon his cheek. He turnedaside; he climbed desperately, with hands and feet, upon a crag that, tothe right, broke the scathed and blasted level of the soil. The streamrolled beside and beneath him, and then, taking a sudden wind round thespot on which he stood, interposed its liquid fire--a broad andimpassable barrier--between his resting-place and escape. There hestood, cut off from descent, and with no alternative but to retrace hissteps towards the crater, and thence seek--without guide or clew--someother pathway. 

For a moment his courage left him; he cried in despair, and in thatover-strained pitch of voice which is never heard afar off, to theguide, to Merton, to return, to aid him. 

No answer came; and the Englishman, thus abandoned solely to his ownresources, felt his spirit and energy rise against the danger. Heturned back, and ventured as far towards the crater as the noxiousexhalation would permit; then, gazing below, carefully and deliberatelyhe chalked out for himself a path, by which he trusted to shun thedirection the fire-stream had taken, and trod firmly and quickly overthe crumbling and heated strata. 

He had proceeded about fifty yards when he halted abruptly: anunspeakable and unaccountable horror, not hitherto felt amidst all hisperil, came over him. He shook in every limb; his muscles refused hiswill; he felt, as it were, palsied and death-stricken. The horror, Isay, was unaccountable, for the path seemed clear and safe. The fire, above and behind, burned out clear and far; and beyond, the stars lenthim their cheering guidance. No obstacle was visible, no danger seemedat hand. As thus, spell-bound and panic-stricken, he stood chained tothe soil--his breast heaving, large drops rolling down his brow, and hiseyes starting wildly from their sockets--he saw before him, at somedistance, gradually shaping itself more and more distinctly to his gaze, a Colossal Shadow, --a shadow that seemed partially borrowed from thehuman shape, but immeasurably above the human stature, vague, dark, almost formless and differing--he could not tell where or why--not onlyfrom the proportions, but also from the limbs and outline of man. 

The glare of the volcano, that seemed to shrink and collapse from thisgigantic and appalling apparition, nevertheless threw its light, redlyand steadily, upon another shape that stood beside, quiet andmotionless; and it was perhaps the contrast of these two things--theBeing and the Shadow--that impressed the beholder with the differencebetween them, --the Man and the Superhuman. It was but for a moment, nay, for the tenth part of a moment, that this sight was permitted tothe wanderer. A second eddy of sulphureous vapors from the volcano, yetmore rapidly, yet more densely than its predecessor, rolled over themountain; and either the nature of the exhalation, or the excess of hisown dread, was such that Glyndon, after one wild gasp for breath, fellsenseless on the earth.