STORIES BY ENGLISH AUTHORS

ITALY

CONTENTS

 A FAITHFUL RETAINER James Payn BIANCA W. E. Norris GONERIL A. Mary F. Robinson THE BRIGAND'S BRIDE Laurence Oliphant MRS. GENERAL TALBOYS Anthony Trollope

A FAITHFUL RETAINER, By James Payn

When I lived in the country, --which was a long time ago, --our nearestneighbours were the Luscombes. They were very great personages in thecountry indeed, and the family were greatly "respected"; though not, so far as I could discern, for any particular reason, except fromtheir having been there for several generations. People are supposed toimprove, like wine, from keeping--even if they are rather "ordinary" atstarting; and the Luscombes, at the time I knew them, were consideredquite a "vintage" family. They had begun in Charles II. 's time, anddated their descent from greatness in the female line. That they hadmanaged to keep a great estate not very much impaired so long wascertainly a proof of great cleverness, since there had been manyspend-thrifts among them; but fortunately there had been a miser or two, who had restored the average, and their fortunes. 

Mr. Roger Luscombe, the present proprietor, was neither the one nor theother, but he was inclined to frugality, and no wonder; a burnt childdreads the fire, even though he may have had nothing to do with lightingit himself, and his father had kicked down a good many thousands withthe help of "the bones" (as dice were called in his day) and "thedevil's books" (which was the name for cards with those that disapprovedof them) and race-horses; there was plenty left, but it made the oldgentleman careful and especially solicitous to keep it. There was nostint, however, of any kind at the Court, which to me, who lived in thelittle vicarage of Dalton with my father, seemed a palace. 

It was indeed a very fine place, with statues in the hall and picturesin the gallery and peacocks on the terrace. Lady Jane, the daughter ofa wealthy peer, who had almost put things on their old footing with herample dowry, was a very great lady, and had been used, I was told, toan even more splendid home; but to me, who had no mother, she was simplythe kindest and most gracious woman I had ever known. 

My connection with the Luscombes arose from their only son Richardbeing my father's pupil. We were both brought up at home, but for verydifferent reasons. In my case it was from economy: the living was smalland our family was large, though, as it happened, I had no brothers. Richard was too precious to his parents to be trusted to the tendermercies of a public school. He was in delicate health, not so muchnatural to him as caused by an excess of care--coddling. Though he and Iwere very good friends, unless when we were quarreling, it must be ownedthat he was a spoiled boy. 

There is a good deal of nonsense talked of young gentlemen who arebrought up from their cradles in an atmosphere of flattery _not_being spoiled; but unless they are angels--which is a very exceptionalcase--it cannot be otherwise. Richard Luscombe was a good fellow inmany ways; liberal with his money (indeed, apt to be lavish), andkind-hearted, but self-willed, effeminate, and impulsive. He hadalso--which was a source of great alarm and grief to his father--amarked taste for speculation. 

After the age of "alley tors and commoneys, " of albert-rock andhard-bake, in which we both gambled frightfully, I could afford him noopportunities of gratifying this passion; but if he could get a littlemoney "on" anything, there was nothing that pleased him better--notthat he cared for the money, but for the delight of winning it. The nextmoment he would give it away to a beggar. Numbers of good people lookupon gambling with even greater horror than it deserves, because theycannot understand this; the attraction of risk, and the wild joy of"pulling off" something when the chances are against one, are unknown tothem. It is the same with the love of liquor. Richard Luscombe had nota spark of that (his father left him one of the best cellars in England, but he never touches even a glass of claret after dinner; "I should assoon think, " he says, "of eating when I am not hungry"); but he dearlyliked what he called a "spec. " Never shall I forget the first time herealised anything that could be termed a stake. 

When he was about sixteen, he and I had driven over to some littlecountry races a few miles away from Dalton, without, I fear, announcingour intention of so doing. Fresh air was good for "our dear Richard, "and since pedestrian exercise (which he also hated) exhausted him, hehad a groom and dog-cart always at his own disposal. It was a day ofgreat excitement for me, who had never before seen a race-course. Theflags, the grand stand (a rude erection of planks, which came down, by-the-bye, the next year during the race for the cup, and reduced thesporting population), the insinuating gipsies, the bawling card-sellers, and especially the shining horses with their twisted manes, all excitedmy admiration. 

I was well acquainted with them in fiction; and these illustrations ofthe books I loved so well delighted me. Richard, who had read less andseen more, was bent on business. 

He was tall for his age, but very slight and youthful-looking, and thecontrast of his appearance with that of the company in the little ring, composed as it was of a choice selection of the roughest blackguards inEngland, was very striking. 

Many of these knew who he was, and were very glad to see him, but onlyone of the book-makers secured his patronage. The fact was, MasterRichard had but one five-pound note to lay; he had been saving up hispocket-money for weeks for this very purpose, and he took ten to oneabout an outsider, "Don Sebastian, "--a name I shall remember when allother historical knowledge has departed from me, --not because he knewanything of the horse, but because the longest odds were laid againsthim. 

I didn't like the look of the "gentleman sportsman" who took custodyof that five-pound note, but Richard (who had never seen him before)assured me, with his usual confidence, that he was "straight as a die"and "as honest as the day. "

The race excited me exceedingly; Richard had lent me a field-glass (foreverything he had was in duplicate, if not triplicate), and I watchedthe progress of that running rainbow with a beating heart. At firstYellow Cap (the Don) seemed completely out of it, the last of all; butpresently he began to creep up, and as they drew near the winning-post, shouts of "Yellow Cap wins!" "Yellow Cap wins!" rent the air. He didwin by a head, and with a well-pleased flush on my face at my friend'smarvellous good fortune, I turned to congratulate him. He was gone. Thetumult and confusion were excessive; but looking toward the exit gate, Ijust caught a glimpse of the book-maker passing rapidly through it, andthen of Richard in pursuit of him. 

A stout young farmer, whom I knew, was standing behind me, and in a fewhurried words I told him what had happened. "Come with me, " he said, and off we ran, as though we had been entered for the cup ourselves. Theother two were already a field ahead, and far away from the course; but, fast as the book-maker ran, the delicate Richard had come up with him. Icould imagine how pumped he was, but the idea of having been swindled bythis scoundrel, who was running off with his five-pound note, as well asthe fifty pounds he owed him, had no doubt lent him wings. It could not, however, lend him strength, nor teach him the art of self-defence, and after a few moments, passed doubtless in polite request and bluntrefusal, we saw the miscreant strike out from the shoulder and Richardgo down. 

The time thus lost, however, short-lived as was the combat, was fatalto the victor. There were few better runners in Dalton than my companionand myself, and we gained on the book-maker, who had probably trained ongin and bad tobacco, hand over hand. As we drew near him he turned roundand inquired, with many expletives, made half inarticulate by wantof breath, what we wanted with a gentleman engaged on his own privateaffairs. 

"Well, " I said, --for as I could trust my agricultural friend with themore practical measures that were likely to follow I thought it onlyfair that I should do the talking, --"we want first the five-pound notewhich that young gentleman, whom you have just knocked down, intrustedto your care, and then the fifty pounds you have lost to him. "

He called Heaven to witness that he had never made a bet in his lifewith any young gentleman, but that, having been molested, he believed bya footpad, as he was returning home to his family, he had been compelledto defend himself. 

"I heard you make the bet and saw you take the money, " I remarked, withconfidence. 

"That's good enough, " said the farmer. "Now if you don't shell out thatmoney this instant, I'll have you back in the ring in a brace of shakesand tell them what has happened. Last year they tore a welsher prettynigh to pieces, and this year, if you don't 'part, ' they'll do itquite. "

The book-maker turned livid, --I never saw a man in such a funk in mylife, --and produced a greasy pocket-book, out of which he took Richard'sbank-note, and ten quite new ones; and I noticed there were more left, so that poverty was not his excuse for fraud. 

"Let me look at 'em against the sun, " said the farmer, "to see as thewater-mark is all right. "

This was a precaution I should never have thought of, and it gave mefor the first time a sense of the great intelligence of my father'sparishioner. 

"Yes, they're all correct. And now you may go; but if ever you show yourface again on Southick (Southwick) race-course it will be the worst foryou. "

He slunk away, and we returned to Richard, who was sitting on theground, looking at his nose, which was bleeding and had attained vastdimensions. 

"Did you get the money?" were his first words, which I thought verycharacteristic. 

"Yes, there it is, squire--ten fivers and your own note. "

"Very good; I should never have seen a shilling of it but for you andCharley, so we will just divide it into three shares. "

The farmer said, "No, " but eventually took his L16 13s. 4d. , and quiteright too. Of course I did not take Richard's money, but he afterwardbought me a rifle with it, which I could not refuse. The farmer, as maybe well imagined, could be trusted to say nothing of our adventure; butit was impossible to hide Richard's nose. He was far too honest a fellowto tell a lie about it, and the whole story came out. His father wasdreadfully shocked at it, and Lady Jane in despair: the one about hisgambling propensities, and the other about his nose; she thought, if theinjury did not prove fatal, he would be disfigured for life. 

He was well in a week, but the circumstances had the gravestconsequences. It was decided that something must be done with the heirof the Luscombes to wean him from low company (this was not me, butgrooms and racing people); but even this predilection was ascribed inpart to his fragile constitution. A fashionable physician came down fromLondon to consider the case. He could not quite be brought to the pointdesired by Lady Jane, to lay Richard's love of gambling at the door ofthe delicacy of his lungs; but he was brought very near it. The youngfellow, his "opinion" was, had been brought up too much like a hothouseflower; his tastes were what they were chiefly because he had noopportunities of forming better ones; with improved strength his moralnature would become more elevated. That he was truthful was a greatsource of satisfaction (this was with reference to his distinct refusalto give up gambling to please anybody) and a most wholesome physicalsign. "My recommendation is that he should be temporarily removed fromhis present dull surroundings; there is not scope in them for his mind;he should be sent abroad for a month or two with his tutor. That will dohim a world of good. "

If it was not very good advice, it was probably quite as judiciousas other "opinions" for which a hundred and fifty guineas have beencheerfully paid. It was at all events a great comfort to hear that therewas nothing constitutionally wrong with "dearest Richard, " and that heonly wanted a tonic for mind and body. The doctor's verdict was acceptedby both parents, but there was an insurmountable obstacle to its beingcarried into effect in Master Richard himself. My father could notleave his parish and his family, and with no other tutor could the younggentleman be induced to go. 

Now it happened that the butler at the Court, John Maitland, who, asis often the case in such households, had the gravity and dignity of abishop, was so fortunate as to be a favourite both with the old folksand the young one. He really was a superior person, and not only"honest as the day" in Richard's eyes (which, as we have seen, was nota guarantee of straightforwardness), but in those of every one else. Hehad been born in the village, had been page to Mr. Luscombe's father, and had lived more than fifty years at the Court. The relations betweenmaster and servant were feudal, mingled with the more modern attachmentthat comes of good service properly appreciated. He thought theLuscombes, if not the only old family in the world, the best, andworshipped--though in a dignified and ecclesiastical manner--the groundtrodden on both by the squire and Master Richard. My own impressionwas that under pretence of giving way to the latter he played into theparental hands; but as this was certainly for my young friend's good, I never communicated my suspicions to him. Maitland, at all events, had more influence over him than any man except my father. Still itastonished us all not a little, notwithstanding the high opinion weentertained of him, when we heard that the butler was to be intrustedwith the guardianship of Richard abroad. Such a thing could not havehappened in any other family, but so it was arranged; and partly asvalet, partly as confidential companion and treasurer Maitland startedwith his young master on his travels. 

These were to last for not less than six months, and Italy, becauseof its warm climate, was the country to which they were bound. That itwould do the young fellow good, both moral and physical, we all hoped;but my father had his doubts. He feared that Maitland's influence overhis companion would wane when away from the Court; but it never enteredinto his mind that he would willingly permit any wrong doing, and stillless that the man would himself succumb to any temptation that involveddishonesty. 

They travelled by easy stages; though they used the railway, of course, they did so only for a few hours a day, and got out and remained atplaces of interest. Richard was very amenable, and indeed showed nodesire for dissipation; his one weakness--that of having a "spree"--hadno opportunity of being gratified; and Maitland wrote home the mostgratifying letters, not only respecting the behaviour of his charge, butof the improvement in his health. As they drew nearer to Italy, Richardobserved one day that he should spend a day or two at Monte Carlo. Maitland had never heard of the place or of its peculiar attractions;and "Master Richard" only told him that it was very picturesque. Thehorror of the faithful retainer may therefore be imagined when he foundthat it was a gambling resort. 

He could not prevent his young master frequenting the tables, andthough he kept the purse, with the exception of a few pounds, and wouldcertainly have stood between him and ruin, he could not prevent hiswinning. Richard had the luck, and more, that proverbially attends youngpeople--he had the luck of the devil; his few napoleons swelling to agreat many on the very first day, and he was in the seventh heaven ofhappiness. The next day and the next he won largely, immensely; in vainMaitland threatened to write to his father, and even to leave him. 

"All right, " replied the reckless youth. "You may do as you like; evenif the governor disinherits me I can make my fortune by stopping here. And as to leaving me, go by all means; I shall get on very well with aFrench valet. "

It was dreadful. 

Richard grew happier and happier every day, as the golden flood flowedin upon him, but also extremely hectic. He passed the whole day at thetables, and the want of air and exercise, and, still more, the intenseexcitement which possessed him, began to have the most serious effect. That prescription of "seeing the world, " and "escaping from his dullsurroundings, " was having a very different result from what hadbeen expected. "The paths of glory lead but to the grave"; the youngEnglishman and his luck were the talk of all Monte Carlo, and he enjoyedhis notoriety very much; but, as the poor butler plaintively observed, what was the good of that when Master Richard was "killing himself"?

How the news was received at the Court I had no means of judging, forthe squire kept a rigid silence, except that he had long conferenceswith my father; and Lady Jane kept her room. It was indeed a very soresubject. The squire wanted to start for Monte Carlo at once; but he wassingularly insular, detested travel, and in truth was very unfit forsuch a "cutting-out expedition" as was contemplated. He waited, half outof his mind with anxiety, but in hopes of a better report; what he hopedfor was that luck would turn, and Richard lose every shilling. 

The very reverse of this, however, took place; Richard won more andmore. He would come home to his hotel in the evening with a portercarrying his gains. His portmanteau was full of napoleons. It wascharacteristic of him that he never thought of banking it. One eveninghe came in with very bright eyes, but a most shrunken and cadaverousface. 

"This has been my best day of all, Johnny, " he said. "See, I have wontwo thousand pounds; and you shall have a hundred of it. "

But Maitland refused to have anything to do with such ill-gotten gains, for which, too, his young master was sacrificing his health, and perhapshis life. Still--though this did not strike Richard till afterward--hecould not help regarding the great heap of gold with considerableinterest. Added to the lad's previous gains, the amount was now verylarge indeed--more than five thousand pounds. 

"I should really think, Master Richard, as you had now won enough. "

"Enough? Certainly not. I have not broken the bank yet. I mean to dothat before I've done with it, Johnny. "

"That will be after you've killed yourself, " said honest John. 

"Well, then I shall die _rich_, " was the reckless rejoinder. 

Richard, who was too exhausted for repose, tossed and tumbled on his bedfor hours, and eventually dropped into a heavy slumber, and slept farinto the next morning. He awoke feeling very unwell, but his chiefanxiety was lest he should miss the opening of the tables; he was alwaysthe first to begin. He rang his bell violently for Maitland. There wasno reply, and when he rang again, one of the hotel servants came up. 

"Where is my man?" he inquired. 

"Monsieur's man-servant took monsieur's luggage to the railway-station;he is gone by the early train to Turin. "

"Gone to Turin with my luggage?"

"Yes, with the two portmanteaus--very heavy ones. "

Richard got out of bed, and dragged his weary limbs into thedressing-room, an inner apartment, where the portmanteaus were kept forsafety. They were both gone. 

"What train did the scoundrel go by? Where is my watch? Why, the villainhas taken that too! Send for the police! No; there is no time to belost--send a telegram. Why, he has not even left me enough money to paya telegram!"

All his small change was gone. Honest John had taken everything; he hadnot left his young master a single sixpence. At this revelation ofthe state of affairs, poor Richard, weakened as he was by his longexcitement, threw himself on the bed and burst into tears. Theattendant, to whom, as usual, he had been liberal, was affected by anemotion so strange in an Englishman. 

"Monsieur must not fret; the thief will be caught and the moneyrestored. It will be well, perhaps to tell the _maitre d'hotel_. "

The master of the hotel appeared with a very grave face. He wasdesolated to hear of the misfortune that had befallen his young guest. Perhaps there was not quite so much taken as had been reported. 

"I tell you it's all gone; more than five thousand pounds, and my watchand chain; I have not half a franc in my possession. "

"That is unfortunate indeed, " said the _maitre d'hotel_, looking graverthan ever, "because there is my bill to settle. "

"Oh, hang your bill!" cried Richard. "_That_ will be all right. I musttelegraph to my father at once. "

"But how is monsieur to telegraph if he has no money?"

It was probably the first time in his life that the young fellow hadever understood how inconvenient a thing is poverty. What also amazedhim beyond measure was the man's manner; yesterday, and all otherdays, it had been polite to obsequiousness; now it was dry almost toinsolence. It seemed, indeed, to imply some doubt of the bona fides ofhis guest--that he might not, in short, be much better than honest Johnhimself, of whom he was possibly the confederate; that the whole storywas a trumped-up one to account for the inability to meet his bill. Asto his having won largely at the tables, that might be true enough; buthe also might have lost it all, and more with it; money changes hands atMonte Carlo very rapidly. 

In the end, however, and not without much objection, the landlordadvanced a sufficient sum to enable Richard to telegraph home. He alsopermitted him to stay on at the hotel, stipulating, however, thathe should call for no wine, nor indulge in anything expensive--ahumiliating arrangement enough, but not so much so as the terms ofanother proviso, that he was never to enter the gambling saloon or gobeyond the public gardens. Even there he was under surveillance, and itwas, in short, quite clear that he was suspected of an intention to runaway without paying his bill--perhaps even of joining his "confederate, "Mr. John Maitland. 

The only thing that comforted Richard was the conviction that he shouldhave a remittance from his father in a few hours; but nothing of thesort, not even a telegram, arrived. Day after day went by, and theyoung fellow was in despair; he felt like a pariah, for he had beenso occupied with the tables that he had made no friends; and his fewacquaintances looked askance at him, as being under a cloud, with theprecise nature of which they were unacquainted. Friendless and pennilessin a foreign land, his spirit was utterly broken, and he beganto understand what a fool he had made of himself; especially howungratefully he had behaved to his father, without whom it was not soeasy to "get on, " it appeared, as he had imagined. He saw, too, the evilof his conduct in having thrust a temptation in the way of honest Johntoo great to be resisted. The police could hear no news of him, and, indeed, seemed very incredulous with respect to Richard's account of thematter. 

On the fourth day Richard received a letter from his father of thegravest kind, though expressed in the most affectionate terms. He hardlyalluded to the immediate misfortune that had happened to him, but spokeof the anxiety and alarm which his conduct had caused his motherand himself. "I enclose you a check, " he wrote, "just sufficient tocomfortably bring you home and pay your hotel bill, and exceedinglyregret that I cannot trust my son with more--lest he should risk it ina way that gives his mother and myself more distress of mind than I canexpress. "

Richard's heart was touched, as it well might have been; though perhapsthe condition of mind in which his father's communication found him hadsomething to do with it. By that night's mail he despatched a letterhome which gave the greatest delight at the Court, and also at thevicarage, for Mr. Luscombe, full of pride and joy, brought it to myfather to read. "I have been very foolish, sir, and very wicked, " itran. "I believe I should have been dead by this time had not Maitlandstolen my money (so that I have no reason to feel very angry with him)and deprived me of the means of suicide. I give you my word of honourthat I will never gamble again. "

Lady Jane sent a telegram to meet Master Richard in Paris, to say whata dear good boy he was, and how happy he had made her. This did notsurprise him, but what did astonish him very much on arriving at theCourt was that John Maitland opened the door for him. 

"Why, you old scoundrel!"

"Yes, sir, I know; I'm a thief and all that, but I did it for the best;I did, indeed. "

Though the fatted calf was killed for Master Richard, he had by no meansreturned like the prodigal son. On the contrary, he had sent homea remittance, as it were, by the butler, of more than five thousandpounds. The whole plot had been devised by honest John as the onlymethod of extricating Master Richard from that Monte Carlo spider's web, and had been carried out by the help of the _maitre d'hotel_, with thesquire's approval. And to do the young fellow justice, he never resentedthe trick that had been played upon him. 

Richard was not sent abroad again, but to Cambridge, where eventually hetook a fourth-class (poll) degree; and Lady Jane was as proud of itas if he had been senior wrangler. He kept his word, in spite of alltemptations to the contrary, and never touched a card--a circumstancewhich drove him to take a fair amount of exercise, and, in consequence, he steadily improved in health. He was sometimes chaffed by hiscompanions for his abstinence from play; they should have thought he wasthe last man to be afraid of losing his money. 

"You are right, so far, " he would answer, drily; "but the fact is, Ihave had enough of winning. "

To which they would reply:

"Oh yes, we dare say, " an elliptical expression, which conveyeddisbelief. 

He never told them the story of his Monte Carlo experiences; but in thevacations he would often talk to honest John about them. We may be surethat that faithful retainer did not go unrewarded for his fraudulentact. 

BIANCA, By W. E. Norris

Not long since, I was one among a crowd of nobodies at a big officialreception in Paris when the Marchese and Marchesa di San Silvestro wereannounced. There was a momentary hush; those about the doorway fell backto let this distinguished couple pass, and some of us stood on tiptoe toget a glimpse of them; for San Silvestro is a man of no small importancein the political and diplomatic world, and his wife enjoys quite aEuropean fame for beauty and amiability, having had opportunities ofdisplaying both these attractive gifts at the several courts where shehas acted as Italian ambassadress. They made their way quickly up thelong room, --she short, rather sallow, inclined toward embonpoint, butwith eyes whose magnificence was rivalled only by that of her diamonds;he bald-headed, fat, gray-haired, covered with orders, --and were soonout of sight. I followed them with a sigh which caused my neighbour toask me jocosely whether the marchesa was an old flame of mine. 

"Far from it, " I answered. "Only the sight of her reminded me of bygonedays. Dear, dear me! how time does slip on! It is fifteen years since Isaw her last. "

I moved away, looking down rather ruefully at the waistcoat to whosecircumference fifteen years have made no trifling addition, andwondering whether I was really as much altered and aged in appearance asthe marchesa was. 

Fifteen years--it is no such very long time; and yet I dare say that thepersons principally concerned in the incident which I am about to relatehave given up thinking about it as completely as I had done, until thesound of that lady's name, and the sight of her big black eyes, recalledit to me, and set me thinking of the sunny spring afternoon on whichmy sister Anne and I journeyed from Verona to Venice, and of her naiveexclamations of delight on finding herself in a real gondola, glidingsmoothly down the Grand Canal. My sister Anne is by some years mysenior. She is what might be called an old lady now, and she certainlywas an old maid then, and had long accepted her position as such. Then, as now, she habitually wore a gray alpaca gown, a pair of gold-rimmedspectacles, gloves a couple of sizes too large for her, and a shapeless, broad-leaved straw hat, from which a blue veil was flung back andstreamed out in the breeze behind her, like a ship's ensign. Then, asnow, she was the simplest, the most kind-hearted, the most prejudicedof mortals; an enthusiastic admirer of the arts, and given, as her ownsmall contribution thereto, to the production of endless water-colourlandscapes, a trifle woolly, indeed, as to outline, and somewhat faultyas to perspective, but warm in colouring, and highly thought of inthe family. I believe, in fact, that it was chiefly with a view tothe filling of her portfolio that she had persuaded me to take her toVenice; and, as I am constitutionally indolent, I was willing enough tospend a few weeks in the city which, of all cities in the world, isthe best adapted for lazy people. We engaged rooms at Danielli's, and unpacked all our clothes, knowing that we were not likely to makeanother move until the heat should drive us away. 

The first few days, I remember, were not altogether full of enjoymentfor one of us. My excellent Anne, who has all her brother's virtues, without his failings, would have scouted the notion of allowing anydread of physical fatigue to stand between her and the churches andpictures which she had come all the way from England to admire; and, asVenice was an old haunt of mine, she very excusably expected me to actas cicerone to her, and allowed me but little rest between the hours ofbreakfast and of the _table d'hote_. At last, however, she conceived themodest and felicitous idea of making a copy of Titian's "Assumption";and, having obtained the requisite permission for that purpose, setto work upon the first of a long series of courageous attempts, all ofwhich she conscientiously destroyed when in a half-finished state. Atthat rate it seemed likely that her days would be fully occupied forsome weeks to come; and I urged her to persevere, and not to allowherself to be disheartened by a few brilliant failures; and so shehurried away, early every morning, with her paint-box, her brushes, andher block, and I was left free to smoke my cigarettes in peace, in frontof my favourite cafe on the Piazza San Marco. 

I was sitting there one morning, watching, with half-closed eyes, thepigeons circling overhead under a cloudless sky, and enjoying the freshsalt breeze that came across the ruffled water from the Adriatic, when Iwas accosted by one of the white-coated Austrian officers by whom Venicewas thronged in those days, and whom I presently recognised as a youngfellow named Von Rosenau, whom I had known slightly in Vienna theprevious winter. I returned his greeting cordially, for I always liketo associate as much as possible with foreigners when I am abroad, and little did I foresee into what trouble this fair-haired, innocent-looking youth was destined to lead me. 

I asked him how he liked Venice, and he answered laughingly that he wasnot there from choice. "I am in disgrace, " he explained. "I am always indisgrace, only this time it is rather worse than usual. Do you remembermy father, the general? No? Perhaps he was not in Vienna when you werethere. He is a soldier of the old school, and manages his family as theytell me he used to manage his regiment in former years, boasting that henever allowed a breach of discipline to pass unpunished, and never will. Last year I exceeded my allowance, and the colonel got orders to stopmy leave; this year I borrowed from the Jews, the whole thing was foundout, and I was removed from the cavalry, and put into a Croat regimentunder orders for Venice. Next year will probably see me enrolled in thepolice; and so it will go on, I suppose, till some fine morning Ishall find myself driving a two-horse yellow diligence in the wildsof Carinthia, and blowing a horn to let the villagers know that theimperial and royal mail is approaching. "

After a little more conversation we separated, but only to meet again, that same evening, on the Piazza San Marco, whither I had wandered tolisten to the band after dinner, and where I found Von Rosenau seatedwith a number of his brother officers in front of the principal cafe. These gentlemen, to whom I was presently introduced, were unanimous incomplaining of their present quarters. Venice, they said, might be allvery well for artists and travellers; but viewed as a garrison it wasthe dullest of places. There were no amusements, there was no sport, andjust now no society; for the Italians were in one of their periodicalfits of sulks, and would not speak to, or look at, a German if theycould possibly avoid it. "They will not even show themselves whenour band is playing, " said one of the officers, pointing toward thewell-nigh empty piazza. "As for the ladies, it is reported that if oneof them is seen speaking to an Austrian, she is either assassinated orsent off to spend the rest of her days in a convent. At all events, itis certain that we have none of us any successes to boast of, except VonRosenau, who has had an affair, they say, only he is pleased to be verymysterious about it. "

"Where does she live, Von Rosenau?" asked another. "Is she rich? Is shenoble? Has she a husband, who will stab you both? or only a mother, whowill send her to a nunnery, and let you go free? You might gratifyour curiosity a little. It would do you no harm, and it would give ussomething to talk about. "

"Bah! he will tell you nothing, " cried a third. "He is afraid. He knowsthat there are half a dozen of us who could cut him out in an hour. "

"Von Rosenau, " said a young ensign, solemnly, "you would do better tomake a clean breast of it. Concealment is useless. Janovicz saw you withher in Santa Maria della Salute the other day, and could have followedher home quite easily if he had been so inclined. "

"They were seen together on the Lido, too. People who want to keep theirsecrets ought not to be so imprudent. "

"A good comrade ought to have no secrets from the regiment. "

"Come, Von Rosenau, we will promise not to speak to her withoutyour permission if you will tell us how you managed to make heracquaintance. "

The object of all these attacks received them with the most perfectcomposure, continuing to smoke his cigar and gaze out seaward, without so much as turning his head toward his questioners, to whom hevouchsafed no reply whatever. Probably, as an ex-hussar and a sprig ofnobility, he may have held his head a little above those of his presentbrother officers, and preferred disregarding their familiarity toresenting it, as he might have done if it had come from men whom heconsidered on a footing of equality with himself. Such, at least, was myimpression; and it was confirmed by the friendly advances which he madetoward me, from that day forth, and by the persistence with which hesought my society. I thought he seemed to wish for some companion whoseideas had not been developed exclusively in barrack atmosphere; andI, on my side, was not unwilling to listen to the chatter of a lively, good-natured young fellow, at intervals, during my long idle days. 

It was at the end of a week, I think, or thereabouts, that he honouredme with his full confidence. We had been sea-fishing in a small openboat which he had purchased, and which he managed without assistance;that is to say, that we had provided ourselves with what was requisitefor the pursuit of that engrossing sport, and that the young count hadgone through the form of dropping his line over the side and pulling itup, baitless and fishless, from time to time, while I had dispensed witheven this shallow pretence of employment, and had stretched myself outfull length upon the cushions which I had thoughtfully brought with me, inhaling the salt-laden breeze, and luxuriating in perfect inaction, till such time as it had become necessary for us to think of returninghomeward. My companion had been sighing portentously every now and againall through the afternoon, and had repeatedly given vent to a soundas though he had been about to say something, and had as often checkedhimself, and fallen back into silence. So that I was in a great measureprepared for the disclosure that fell from him at length as we slippedbefore the wind across the broad lagoon, toward the haze and blaze ofsunset which was glorifying the old city of the doges. 

"Do you know, " said he, suddenly, "that I am desperately in love?" Isaid I had conjectured as much; and he seemed a good deal surprised atmy powers of divination. "Yes, " he resumed, "I am in love; and withan Italian lady too, unfortunately. Her name is Bianca, --the SignorinaBianca Marinelli, --and she is the most divinely beautiful creature thesun ever shone upon. "

"That, " said I, "is of course. "

"It is the truth; and when you have seen her, you will acknowledge thatI do not exaggerate. I have known her nearly two months now. I becameacquainted with her accidentally--she dropped her handkerchief in ashop, and I took it to her, and so we got to be upon speaking terms, and--and--But I need not give you the whole history. We have discoveredthat we are all the world to each other; we have sworn to remainfaithful to each other all our lives long; and we renew the oathwhenever we meet. But that, unhappily, is very seldom! for her father, the Marchese Marinelli, scarcely ever lets her out of his sight; and heis a sour, narrow-minded old fellow, as proud as he is poor, an intensehater of all Austrians; and if he were to discover our attachment, Ishudder to think of what the consequences might be. "

"And your own father--the stern old general of whom you told me--whatwould he say to it all?"

"Oh, he, of course, would not hear of such a marriage for a moment. Hedetests and despises the Venetians as cordially as the marchese abhorsthe _Tedeschi_; and, as I am entirely dependent upon him, I should notdream of saying a word to him about the matter until I was married, andnothing could be done to separate me from Bianca. "

"So that, upon the whole, you appear to stand a very fair chance ofstarvation, if everything turns out according to your wishes. And pray, in what way do you imagine that I can assist you toward this desirableend? For I take it for granted that you have some reason for letting meinto your secret. "

Von Rosenau laughed good-humouredly. 

"You form conclusions quickly, " he said. "Well, I will confess to youthat I have thought lately that you might be of great service to mewithout inconveniencing yourself much. The other day, when you did methe honour to introduce me to your sister, I was very nearly telling herall. She has such a kind countenance; and I felt sure that she would notrefuse to let my poor Bianca visit her sometimes. The old marchese, yousee, would have no objection to leaving his daughter for hours under thecare of an English lady; and I thought that perhaps when Miss Jenkinsonwent out to work at her painting--I might come in. "

"Fortunate indeed is it for you, " I said, "that your confidence in thekind countenance of my sister Anne did not carry you quite to the pointof divulging this precious scheme to her. I, who know her pretty well, can tell you exactly the course she would have pursued if you had. Without one moment's hesitation, she would have found out the address ofthe young lady's father, hurried off thither, and told him all aboutit. Anne is a thoroughly good creature; but she has little sympathy withlove-making, still less with surreptitious love-making, and she would assoon think of accepting the part you are so good as to assign to her asof forging a check. "

He sighed, and said he supposed, then, that they must continue tomeet as they had been in the habit of doing, but that it was ratherunsatisfactory. 

"It says something for your ingenuity that you contrive to meet at all, "I remarked. 

"Well, yes, there are considerable difficulties, because the old man'smovements are so uncertain; and there is some risk too, for, as youheard the other day, we have been seen together. Moreover, I havebeen obliged to tell everything to my servant Johann, who waylays themarchese's housekeeper at market in the mornings, and finds out fromher when and where I can have an opportunity of meeting Bianca. I wouldrather not have trusted him; but I could think of no other plan. "

"At any rate, I should have thought you might have selected some moreretired rendezvous than the most frequented church in Venice. "

He shrugged his shoulders. "I wish you would suggest one within reach, "he said. "There are no retired places in this accursed town. But, infact, we see each other very seldom. Often for days together the onlyway in which I can get a glimpse of her is by loitering about in my boatin front of her father's house, and watching till she shows herself atthe window. We are in her neighborhood now, and it is close upon thehour at which I can generally calculate upon her appearing. Would youmind my making a short detour that way before I set you down at yourhotel?"

We had entered the Grand Canal while Von Rosenau had been relating hislove-tale, and some minutes before he had lowered his sail and taken tothe oars. He now slewed the boat's head round abruptly, and we shot intoa dark and narrow waterway, and so, after sundry twistings and turnings, arrived before a grim, time-worn structure, so hemmed in by thesurrounding buildings that it seemed as if no ray of sunshine could everpenetrate within its walls. 

"That is the Palazzo Marinelli, " said my companion. "The greater part ofit is let to different tenants. The family has long been much too poorto inhabit the whole of it, and now the old man only reserves himselffour rooms on the third floor. Those are the windows, in the far corner;and there--no!--yes!--there is Bianca. "

I brought my eyeglass to bear upon the point indicated just in timeto catch sight of a female head, which was thrust out through the openwindow for an instant, and then withdrawn with great celerity. 

"Ah, " sighed the count, "it is you who have driven her away. I ought tohave remembered that she would be frightened at seeing a stranger. Andnow she will not show herself again, I fear. Come; I will take you home. Confess now--is she not more beautiful than you expected?"

"My dear sir, I had hardly time to see whether she was a man or a woman;but I am quite willing to take your word for it that there never wasanybody like her. "

"If you would like to wait a little longer--half an hour or so--she_might_ put her head out again, " said the young man, wistfully. 

"Thank you very much; but my sister will be wondering why I do not cometo take her down to the _table d'hote_. And besides, I am not in lovemyself, I may perhaps be excused for saying that I want my dinner. "

"As you please, " answered the count, looking the least bit in the worldaffronted; and so he pulled back in silence to the steps of the hotel, where we parted. 

I don't know whether Von Rosenau felt aggrieved by my ratherunsympathetic reception of his confidence, or whether he thought ituseless to discuss his projects further with one who could not or wouldnot assist him in carrying them out; but although we continued to meetdaily, as before, he did not recur to the interesting subject, and itwas not for me to take the initiative in doing so. Curiosity, I confess, led me to direct my gondolier more than once to the narrow canalover which the Palazzo Martinelli towered; and on each occasion I wasrewarded by descrying, from the depths of the miniature mourning-coachwhich concealed me, the faithful count, seated in his boat and waitingin patient faith, like another Ritter Toggenburg, with his eyes fixedupon the corner window; but of the lady I could see no sign. I wasrather disappointed at first, as day after day went by and my youngfriend showed no disposition to break the silence in which he had chosento wrap himself; for I had nothing to do in Venice, and I thought itwould have been rather amusing to watch the progress of this incipientromance. By degrees, however, I ceased to trouble myself about it; andat the end of a fortnight I had other things to think of, in the shapeof plans for the summer, my sister Anne having by that time satisfiedherself that, all things considered, Titian's "Assumption" was a littletoo much for her. 

It was Captain Janovicz who informed me casually one evening thatVon Rosenau was going away in a few days on leave, and that he wouldprobably be absent for a considerable time. 

"For my own part, " remarked my informant, "I shall be surprised if wesee him back in the regiment at all. He was only sent to us as a sort ofpunishment for having been a naughty boy, and I suppose now he will beforgiven, and restored to the hussars. "

"So much for undying love, " thinks I, with a cynical chuckle. "Ifthere is any gratitude in man, that young fellow ought to be showeringblessings on me for having refused to hold the noose for him to thrusthis head into. "

Alas! I knew not of what I was speaking. I had not yet heard the lastof Herr von Rosenau's entanglement, nor was I destined to escape fromplaying my part in it. The very next morning, after breakfast, as Iwas poring over a map of Switzerland, "Murray" on my right hand and"Bradshaw" on my left, his card was brought to me, together with anurgent request that I would see him immediately and alone; and before Ihad had time to send a reply, he came clattering into the room, trailinghis sabre behind him, and dropped into the first arm-chair with adespairing self-abandonment which shook the house to its foundations. 

"Mr. Jenkinson, " said he, "I am a ruined man!"

I answered rather drily that I was very sorry to hear it. If I mustconfess the truth, I thought he had come to borrow money of me. 

"A most cruel calamity has befallen me, " he went on; "and unless youwill consent to help me out of it--"

"I am sure I shall be delighted to do anything in my power, " Iinterrupted, apprehensively; "but I am afraid--"

"You cannot refuse me till you have heard what I have to say. I am awarethat I have no claim whatever upon your kindness; but you are the onlyman in the world who can save me, and, whereas the happiness of mywhole life is at stake, the utmost you can have to put up with will bea little inconvenience. Now I will explain myself in as few words aspossible, because I have only a minute to spare. In fact, I ought to beout on the ramparts at this moment. You have not forgotten what I toldyou about myself and the Signorina Martinelli, and how we had agreed toseize the first opportunity that offered to be privately married, and toescape over the mountains to my father's house, and throw ourselves uponhis mercy?"

"I don't remember your having mentioned any such plan. "

"No matter--so it was. Well, everything seemed to have fallen out mostfortunately for us. I found out some time ago that the marchese wouldbe going over to Padua this evening on business, and would be absentat least one whole day, and I immediately applied for my leave to beginto-morrow. This I obtained at once through my father, who now expectsme to be with him in a few days, and little knows that I shall not comealone. Johann and the marchese's housekeeper arranged the rest betweenthem. I was to meet my dear Bianca early in the morning on the Lido;thence we were to go by boat to Mestre, where a carriage was to be inwaiting for us; and the same evening we were to be married by a priest, to whom I have given due notice, at a place called Longarone. And sowe should have gone on, across the Ampezzo Pass homeward. Now would youbelieve that all this has been defeated by a mere freak on the part ofmy colonel? Only this morning, after it was much too late to make anyalteration in our plans, he told me that he should require me to be onduty all to-day and to-morrow, and that my leave could not begin untilthe next day. Is it not maddening? And the worst of it is that I have nomeans of letting Bianca know of this, for I dare not send a messageto the palazzo, and there is no chance of my seeing her myself; and ofcourse she will go to the Lido to-morrow morning, and will find no onethere. Now, my dear Mr. Jenkinson--my good, kind friend--do you begin tosee what I want you to do for me?"

"Not in the very least. "

"No? But it is evident enough. Now listen. You must meet Biancato-morrow morning; you explain to her what has happened; you take her inthe boat, which will be waiting for you, to Mestre; you proceed in thetravelling-carriage, which will also be waiting for you, to Longarone;you see the priest, and appoint with him for the following evening; andthe next day I arrive, and you return to Venice. Is that clear?"

The volubility with which this programme was enunciated so took away mybreath that I scarcely realised its audacity. 

"You will not refuse; I am sure you will not, " said the count, risingand hooking up his sword, as if about to depart. 

"Stop, stop!" I exclaimed. "You don't consider what you are asking. I can't elope with young women in this casual sort of way. I have acharacter--and a sister. How am I to explain all this to my sister, Ishould like to know?"

"Oh, make any excuse you can think of to her. Now, Mr. Jenkinson, youknow there cannot be any real difficulty in that. You consent then? Athousand, thousand thanks! I will send you a few more instructions byletter this evening. I really must not stay any longer now. Good-bye. "

"Stop! Why can't your servant Johann do all this instead of me?"

"Because he is on duty like myself. Good-bye. "

"Stop! Why can't you postpone your flight for a day? I don't so muchmind meeting the young lady and telling her all about it. "

"Quite out of the question, my dear sir. It is perfectly possible thatthe marchese may return from Padua to-morrow night, and what should wedo then? No, no; there is no help for it. Good-bye. "

"Stop! Hi! Come back!"

But it was too late. My impetuous visitor was down the staircase andaway before I had descended a single flight in pursuit, and all I coulddo was to return to my room and register a vow within my own heart thatI would have nothing to do with this preposterous scheme. 

Looking back upon what followed across the interval of fifteen years, Ifind that I can really give no satisfactory reason for my having failedto adhere to this wise resolution. I had no particular feeling offriendship for Von Rosenau; I did not care two straws about theSignorina Bianca, whom I had never seen; and certainly I am not, norever was, the sort of person who loves romantic adventures for theirown sake. Perhaps it was good-nature, perhaps it was only an indolentshrinking from disobliging anybody, that influenced me--it does notmuch matter now. Whatever the cause of my yielding may have been, I didyield. I prefer to pass over in silence the doubts and hesitations whichbeset me for the remainder of the day; the arrival, toward evening, of the piteous note from Von Rosenau, which finally overcame myweak resistance to his will; and the series of circumstantial falsestatements (I blush when I think of them) by means of which I accountedto my sister for my proposed sudden departure. 

Suffice it to say that, very early on the following morning, there mighthave been seen, pacing up and down the shore on the seaward side ofthe Lido, and peering anxiously about him through an eyeglass, as if insearch of somebody or something, the figure of a tall, spare Englishman, clad in a complete suit of shepherd's tartan, with a wide-awake on hishead, a leather bag slung by a strap across his shoulder, and a lightcoat over his arm. Myself, in point of act, in the travelling-costume ofthe epoch. 

I was kept waiting a long time--longer than I liked; for, as may besupposed, I was most anxious to be well away from Venice before the restof the world was up and about; but at length there appeared, round thecorner of a long white wall which skirted the beach, a little lady, thickly veiled, who, on catching sight of me, whisked round, andincontinently vanished. This was so evidently the fair Bianca that Ifollowed her without hesitation, and almost ran into her arms as I swunground the angle of the wall behind which she had retreated. She gavea great start, stared at me, for an instant, like a startled fawn, andthen took to her heels and fled. It was rather ridiculous; but there wasnothing for me to do but to give chase. My legs are long, and I had soonheaded her round. 

"I presume that I have the honour of addressing the SignorinaMarinelli?" I panted, in French, as I faced her, hat in hand. 

She answered me by a piercing shriek, which left no room for doubt as toher identity. 

"For the love of Heaven, don't do that!" I entreated, in an agony. "Youwill alarm the whole neighbourhood and ruin us both. Believe me, I amonly here as your friend, and very much against my own wishes. I havecome on the part of Count Albrecht von Rosenau, who is unable to comehimself, because--"

Here she opened her mouth with so manifest an intention of raisinganother resounding screech that I became desperate, and seized her bythe wrists in my anxiety. "_Sgridi ancora una volta_, " says I, in thepurest _lingua Toscana_, "_e la lascero qui_--to get out of this mess asbest you can--_cosi sicuro che il mio nome e Jenkinsono_!"

To my great relief she began to laugh. Immediately afterward, however, she sat down on the shingle and began to cry. It was too vexatious: whaton earth was I to do?

"Do you understand English?" I asked, despairingly. 

She shook her head, but sobbed out that she spoke French; so I proceededto address her in that language. 

"Signorina, if you do not get up and control your emotion, I will notbe answerable for the consequences. We are surrounded by dangers of themost--compromising description; and every moment of delay must addto them. I know that the officers often come out here to bathe in themorning; so do many of the English people from Danielli's. If we arediscovered together there will be such a scandal as never was, and youwill most assuredly not become Countess von Rosenau. Think of that, andit will brace your nerves. What you have to do is to come directly withme to the boat which is all ready to take us to Mestre. Allow me tocarry your hand-bag. "

Not a bit of it! The signorina refused to stir. 

"What is it? Where is Alberto? What has happened?" she cried. "You havetold me nothing. "

"Well, then, I will explain, " I answered, impatiently. And I explainedaccordingly. 

But, dear me, what a fuss she did make over it all! One would havesupposed, to hear her, that I had planned this unfortunate complicationfor my own pleasure, and that I ought to have been playing the part of asuppliant instead of that of a sorely tried benefactor. First she wasso kind as to set me down as an imposter, and was only convinced of myhonesty when I showed her a letter in the beloved Alberto's handwriting. Then she declared that she could not possibly go off with a totalstranger. Then she discovered that, upon further consideration, shecould not abandon poor dear papa in his old age. And so forth, and soforth, with a running accompaniment of tears and sobs. Of course sheconsented at last to enter the boat; but I was so exasperated by hersilly behaviour that I would not speak to her, and had really scarcelynoticed whether she was pretty or plain till we were more than half-wayto Mestre. But when we had hoisted our sail, and were running before afine, fresh breeze toward the land, and our four men had shipped theiroars and were chattering and laughing under their breath in the bows, and the first perils of our enterprise seemed to have been safelysurmounted, my equanimity began to return to me, and I stole a glance atthe partner of my flight, who had lifted her veil, and showed a pretty, round, childish face, with a clear, brown complexion, and a pair ofthe most splendid dark eyes it has ever been my good fortune tobehold. There were no tears in them now, but a certain half-frightened, half-mischievous light instead, as if she rather enjoyed the adventure, in spite of its inauspicious opening. A very little encouragementinduced her to enter into conversation, and ere long she was prattlingaway as unrestrainedly as if we had been friends all our lives. Sheasked me a great many questions. What was I doing in Venice? Had I knownAlberto long? Was I very fond of him? Did I think that the old Countvon Rosenau would be very angry when he heard of his son's marriage?I answered her as best I could, feeling very sorry for the poor littlesoul, who evidently did not in the least realise the serious natureof the step which she was about to take; and she grew more and morecommunicative. In the course of a quarter of an hour I had been put inpossession of all the chief incidents of her uneventful life. 

I had heard how she had lost her mother when she was still an infant;how she had been educated partly by two maiden aunts, partly in aconvent at Verona; how she had latterly led a life of almost completeseclusion in the old Venetian palace; how she had first met Alberto; andhow, after many doubts and misgivings, she had finally been prevailedupon to sacrifice all for his sake, and to leave her father, who, --stern, severe, and suspicious, though he had always been generousto her, --had tried to give her such small pleasures as his meansand habits would permit. She had a likeness of him with her, shesaid, --perhaps I might like to see it. She dived into her travelling-bagas she spoke, and produced from thence a full-length photograph of atall, well-built gentleman of sixty or thereabouts, whose gray hair, black moustache, and intent, frowning gaze made up an ensemble morestriking than attractive. 

"Is he not handsome--poor papa?" she asked. 

I said the marchese was certainly a very fine-looking man, and inwardlythanked my stars that he was safely at Padua; for looking at the breadthof his chest, the length of his arm, and the somewhat forbidding cast ofhis features, I could not help perceiving that "poor papa" was preciselyone of those persons with whom a prudent man prefers to keep friendsthan to quarrel. 

And so, by the time that we reached Mestre, we had become quite friendlyand intimate, and had half forgotten, I think, the absurd relation inwhich we stood toward each other. We had rather an awkward momentwhen we left the boat and entered our travelling-carriage; for I needscarcely say that both the boatmen and the grinning vetturino took mefor the bridegroom whose place I temporarily occupied, and they werepleased to be facetious in a manner which was very embarrassing to me, but which I could not very well check. Moreover, I felt compelled sofar to sustain my assumed character as to be specially generous in themanner of a _buona mano_ to those four jolly watermen, and for the firstfew miles of our drive I could not help remembering this circumstancewith some regret, and wondering whether it would occur to Von Rosenau toreimburse me. 

Probably our coachman thought that, having a runaway couple to drive, he ought to make some pretence, at least, of fearing pursuit; for he setoff at such a furious pace that our four half-starved horses weresoon beat, and we had to perform the remainder of the long, hot, dustyjourney at a foot's pace. I have forgotten how we made the time pass. Ithink we slept a good deal. I know we were both very tired and atrifle cross when in the evening we reached Longarone, a small, poverty-stricken village, on the verge of that dolomite region which, inthese latter days, has become so frequented by summer tourists. 

Tourists usually leave in their wake some of the advantages as well asthe drawbacks of civilisation; and probably there is now a respectablehotel at Longarone. I suppose, therefore, that I may say, without riskof laying myself open to an action for slander, that a more filthy denthan the _osteria_ before which my charge and I alighted no imagination, however disordered, could conceive. It was a vast, dismal building, which had doubtless been the palace of some rich citizen of the republicin days of yore, but which had now fallen into dishonoured old age. Its windows and outside shutters were tightly closed, and had been so, apparently, from time immemorial; a vile smell of rancid oil and garlicpervaded it in every part; the cornices of its huge, bare rooms werefestooned with blackened cobwebs, and the dust and dirt of ages hadbeen suffered to accumulate upon the stone floors of its corridors. The signorina tucked up her petticoats as she picked her way along thepassages to her bedroom, while I remained behind to order dinner of thesulky, black-browed padrona to whom I had already had to explain that mycompanion and I were not man and wife, and who, I fear, had consequentlyconceived no very high opinion of us. Happily the priest had alreadybeen warned by telegram that his service would not be required until themorrow; so I was spared the nuisance of an interview with him. 

After a time we sat down to our tete-a-tete dinner. Such a dinner! Evenafter a lapse of all these years I am unable to think of it without ashudder. Half famished though we were, we could not do much more thanlook at the greater part of the dishes which were set before us; and theclimax was reached when we were served with an astonishing compote, madeup, so far as I was able to judge, of equal proportions of preservedplums and mustard, to which vinegar and sugar had been superadded. Boththe signorina and I partook of this horrible mixture, for it reallylooked as if it might be rather nice; and when, after the firstmouthful, each of us looked up, and saw the other's face of agony andalarm, we burst into a simultaneous peal of laughter. Up to that momentwe had been very solemn and depressed; but the laugh did us good, andsent us to bed in somewhat better spirits; and the malignant compote atleast did us the service of effectually banishing our appetite. 

I forbear to enlarge upon the horrors of the night. Mosquitos, and otherinsects, which, for some reason or other, we English seldom mention, save under a modest pseudonym, worked their wicked will upon me tilldaybreak set me free; and I presume that the fair Bianca was no betteroff, for when the breakfast hour arrived I received a message from herto the effect that she was unable to leave her room. 

I was sitting over my dreary little repast, wondering how I should getthrough the day, and speculating upon the possibility of my releasebefore nightfall, and I had just concluded that I must make up my mindto face another night with the mosquitos and their hardy allies, when, to my great joy, a slatternly serving-maid came lolloping into the room, and announced that a gentleman styling himself "_il Conte di Rosenau_"had arrived and demanded to see me instantly. Here was a piece ofunlooked-for good fortune! I jumped up, and flew to the door to receivemy friend, whose footsteps I already heard on the threshold. 

"My dear, good soul!" I cried, "this is too delightful! How did youmanage----"

The remainder of my sentence died away upon my lips; for, alas! itwas not the missing Alberto whom I had nearly embraced, but a stout, red-faced, white-moustached gentleman, who was in a violent passion, judging by the terrific salute of Teutonic expletives with which hegreeted my advance. Then he, too, desisted as suddenly as I had done, and we both fell back a few paces, and stared at each other blankly. Thenew-comer was the first to recover himself. 

"This is some accursed mistake, " said he, in German. 

"Evidently, " said I. 

"But they told me that you and an Italian young lady were the onlystrangers in the house. "

"Well, sir, " I said, "I can't help it if we are. The house is not ofa kind likely to attract strangers; and I assure you that, if I couldconsult my own wishes, the number of guests would soon be reduced byone. "

He appeared to be a very choleric old person. "Sir, " said he, "you seemdisposed to carry things off with a high hand; but I suspect that youknow more than you choose to reveal. Be so good as to tell me the nameof the lady who is staying here. "

"I think you are forgetting yourself, " I answered with dignity. "I mustdecline to gratify your curiosity. "

He stuck his arms akimbo, and planted himself directly in front of me, frowning ominously. "Let us waste no more words, " he said. "If Ihave made a mistake, I shall be ready to offer you a full apology. Ifnot--But that is nothing to the purpose. I am Lieutenant-General Grafvon Rosenau, at your service, and I have reason to believe that myson, Graf Albrecht von Rosenau, a lieutenant in his Imperial and RoyalMajesty's 99th Croat Regiment, has made a runaway match with a certainSignorina Bianca Marinelli of Venice. Are you prepared to give me yourword of honour as a gentleman and an Englishman that you are not privyto this affair?"

At these terrible words I felt my blood run cold. I may have lost mypresence of mind; but I don't know how I could have got out of thedilemma even if I had preserved it. 

"Your son has not yet arrived, " I stammered. 

He pounced upon me like a cat upon a mouse, and gripped both my armsabove the elbow. "Is he married?" he hissed, with his red nose a coupleof inches from mine. 

"No, " I answered, "he is not. Perhaps I had better say at once that ifyou use personal violence I shall defend myself, in spite of your age. "

Upon this he was kind enough to relax his hold. 

"And pray, sir, " he resumed, in a somewhat more temperate tone, after ashort period of reflection, "what have you to do with all this?"

"I am not bound to answer your questions, Herr Graf, " I replied; "but, as things have turned out, I have no special objection to doing so. Outof pure good-nature to your son, who was detained by duty in Veniceat the last moment, I consented to bring the Signorina Marinelli hereyesterday, and to await his arrival, which I am now expecting. "

"So you ran away with the girl, instead of Albrecht, did you? Ho, ho, ho!"

I had seldom heard a more grating or disagreeable laugh. 

"I did nothing of the sort, " I answered, tartly. "I simply undertook tosee her safely through the first stage of her journey. "

"And you will have the pleasure of seeing her back, I imagine; for asfor my rascal of a boy, I mean to take him off home with me as soon ashe arrives; and I can assure you that I have no intention of providingmyself with a daughter-in-law in the course of the day. "

I began to feel not a little alarmed. "You cannot have the brutalityto leave me here with a young woman whom I am scarcely so much asacquainted with on my hands!" I ejaculated, half involuntarily. "What inthe world should I do?"

The old gentleman gave vent to a malevolent chuckle. "Upon my word, sir, " said he, "I can only see one course open to you as a man ofhonour. You must marry her yourself. "

At this I fairly lost all patience, and gave the Graf my opinion of hisconduct in terms the plainness of which left nothing to be desired. I included him, his son, and the entire German people in one sweepinganathema. No Englishman, I said, would have been capable of eitherinsulting an innocent lady, or of so basely leaving in the lurch onewhose only fault had been a too great readiness to sacrifice his ownconvenience to the interests of others. My indignation lent me a flowof words such as I should never have been able to command in calmermoments; and I dare say I should have continued in the same strain foran indefinite time, had I not been summarily cut short by the entranceof a third person. 

There was no occasion for this last intruder to announce himself, in avoice of thunder, as the Marchese Marinelli. I had at once recognisedthe original of the signorina's photograph, and I perceived that I wasnow in about as uncomfortable a position as my bitterest enemy couldhave desired for me. The German old gentleman had been very angry at theoutset; but his wrath, as compared with that of the Italian, was as abreeze to a hurricane. The marchese was literally quivering from headto foot with concentrated fury. His face was deadly white, his stronglymarked features twitched convulsively, his eyes blazed like those of awild animal. Having stated his identity in the manner already referredto, he made two strides toward the table by which I was seated, andstood glaring at me as though he would have sprung at my throat. Ithought it might avert consequences which we should both afterwarddeplore if I were to place the table between us; and I did so withoutloss of time. From the other side of that barrier I adjured my visitorto keep cool, pledging him my word, in the same breath, that there wasno harm done as yet. 

"No harm!" he repeated, in a strident shout that echoed through the bareroom. "Dog! Villain! You ensnare my daughter's affections--you enticeher away from her father's house--you cover my family with eternaldisgrace--and then you dare to tell me there is no harm done! Wait alittle, and you shall see that there will be harm enough for you. Marryher you must, since you have ruined her; but you shall die for it thenext day! It is I--I, Ludovico Marinelli--who swear it!"

I am aware that I do but scant justice to the marchese's inimitablestyle. The above sentences must be imagined as hurled forth in a seriesof yells, with a pant between each of them. As a melodramatic actor thisterrific Marinelli would, I am sure, have risen to the first rank in hisprofession. 

"Signore, " I said, "you are under a misapprehension. I have ensnarednobody's affections, and I am entirely guiltless of all the crimes whichyou are pleased to attribute to me. "

"What? Are you not, then, the hound who bears the vile and dishonouredname of Von Rosenau?"

"I am not. I bear the less distinguished, but, I hope, equallyrespectable patronymic of Jenkinson. "

But my modest disclaimer passed unheeded, for now another combatant hadthrown himself into the fray. 

"Vile and dishonoured name! No one shall permit himself such languagein my presence. I am Lieutenant-General Graf von Rosenau, sir, and youshall answer to me for your words. "

The Herr Graf's knowledge of Italian was somewhat limited; but, such asit was, it had enabled him to catch the sense of the stigma cast uponhis family, and now he was upon his feet, red and gobbling, like aturkey-cock, and prepared to do battle with a hundred irate Venetians ifneed were. 

The marchese stared at him in blank amazement. "_You!_" heejaculated--"you Von Rosenau! It is incredible--preposterous. Why, youare old enough to be her grandfather. "

"Not old enough to be in my dotage, --as I should be if I permitted myson to marry a beggarly Italian, --nor too old to punish impertinence asit deserves, " retorted the Graf. 

"Your son? You are the father then? It is all the same to me. I willfight you both. But the marriage shall take place first. "

"It shall not. "

"It shall. "

"Insolent slave of an Italian, I will make you eat your words!"

"Triple brute of a German, I spit upon you!"

"Silence, sir!"

"Silence yourself!"

During this animated dialogue I sat apart, softly rubbing my hands. Whata happy dispensation it would be, I could not help thinking, if thesetwo old madmen were to exterminate each other, like the Kilkenny cats!Anyhow, their attention was effectually diverted from my humble person, and that was something to be thankful for. 

Never before had I been privileged to listen to so rich a vocabulary ofvituperation. Each disputant had expressed himself, after the first fewwords, in his own language, and between them they were now making hubbubenough to bring the old house down about their ears. Up came the padronato see the fun; up came her fat husband, in his shirt-sleeves andslippers; and her long-legged sons, and her tousle-headed daughters, andthe maid-servant, and the cook, and the ostler--the whole establishment, in fact, collected at the open folding-doors, and watched with delightthe progress of this battle of words. Last of all, a poor littletrembling figure, with pale face and eyes big with fright, crept in, andstood, hand on heart, a little in advance of the group. I slipped to herside, and offered her a chair, but she neither answered me nor noticedmy presence. She was staring at her father as a bird stares at a snake, and seemed unable to realise anything except the terrible fact that hehad followed and found her. 

Presently the old man wheeled round, and became aware of his daughter. 

"Unhappy girl!" he exclaimed, "what is this that you have done?"

I greatly fear that the marchese's paternal corrections must havesometimes taken a more practical shape than mere verbal upbraidings; forpoor Bianca shrank back, throwing up one arm, as if to shield her face, and, with a wild cry of "Alberto! come to me!" fell into the armsof that tardy lover, who at that appropriate moment had made hisappearance, unobserved, upon the scene. 

The polyglot disturbance that ensued baffles all description. Indeed, I should be puzzled to say exactly what took place, or after how manycommands, defiances, threats, protestations, insults, and explanations, a semblance of peace was finally restored. I only know that, at theexpiration of a certain time, three of us were sitting by the openwindow, in a softened and subdued frame of mind, considerately turningour backs upon the other two, who were bidding each other farewell atthe farther end of the room. 

It was the faithless Johann, as I gathered, who was responsible forthis catastrophe. His heart, it appeared, had failed him when he haddiscovered that nothing less than a bona-fide marriage was to be theoutcome of the meetings he had shown so much skill in contriving, and, full of penitence and alarm, he had written to his old master, divulgingthe whole project. It so happened that a recent storm in the mountainshad interrupted telegraphic communication, for the time, between Austriaand Venice, and the only course that had seemed open to Herr von Rosenauwas to start post-haste for the latter place, where, indeed, he wouldhave arrived a day too late had not Albrecht's colonel seen fit topostpone his leave. In this latter circumstance also the hand of Johannseemed discernible. As for the marchese, I suppose he must have returnedrather sooner than had been expected from Padua, and finding hisdaughter gone, must have extorted the truth from his housekeeper. He didnot volunteer any explanation of his presence, nor were any of us boldenough to question him. 

As I have said before, I have no very clear recollection of how anunderstanding was arrived at and bloodshed averted and the padrona andher satellites hustled downstairs again. Perhaps I may have had someshare in the work of pacification. Be that as it may, when once theexasperated parents had discovered that they both really wanted the samething, --namely, to recover possession of their respective offspring, togo home, and never meet each other again, --a species of truce was soonagreed upon between them for the purpose of separating the two lovers, who all this time were locked in each other's arms, in the prettiestattitude in the world, vowing loudly that nothing should ever part them. 

How often since the world began have such vows been made andbroken--broken, not willingly, but of necessity--broken and mournedover, and, in due course of time, forgotten! I looked at the Marchese diSan Silvestro the other night, as she sailed up the room in her lace anddiamonds, with her fat little husband toddling after her, and wonderedwhether, in these days of her magnificence, she ever gave a thought toher lost Alberto--Alberto, who has been married himself this many a longday, and has succeeded to his father's estates, and has numerous family, I am told. At all events, she was unhappy enough over parting withhim at the time. The two old gentlemen, who, as holders of thepurse-strings, knew that they were completely masters of the situation, and could afford to be generous, showed some kindliness of feeing at thelast. They allowed the poor lovers an uninterrupted half-hour inwhich to bid each other adieu forever, and abstained from any needlessharshness in making their decision known. When the time was up, twotravelling-carriages were seen waiting at the door. Count von Rosenaupushed his son before him into the first; the marchese assisted thehalf-fainting Bianca into the second; the vetturini cracked their whips, and presently both vehicles were rolling away, the one toward thenorth, the other toward the south. I suppose the young people had beenpromising to remain faithful to each other until some happier futuretime should permit of their union, for at the last moment Albrechtthrust his head out of the carriage window, and, waving his hand, cried, "_A rivederci!_" I don't know whether they ever met again. 

The whole scene, I confess, had affected me a good deal, in spite ofsome of the absurdities by which it had been marked; and it was notuntil I had been alone for some time, and silence had once more fallenupon the Longarone _osteria_, that I awoke to the fact that it was _my_carriage which the Marchese Marinelli had calmly appropriated to his ownuse, and that there was no visible means of my getting back to Venicethat day. Great was my anger and great my dismay when the ostlerannounced this news to me, with a broad grin, in reply to my order toput the horses to without delay. 

"But the marchese himself--how did he get here?" I inquired. 

"Oh, he came by the diligence. "

"And the count--the young gentleman?"

"On horseback, signore; but you cannot have his horse. The poor beast ishalf dead as it is. "

"Then will you tell me how I am to escape from your infernal town? Fornothing shall induce me to pass another night here. "

"Eh! there is the diligence which goes through at two o'clock in themorning!"

There was no help for it. I sat up for that diligence, and returned byit to Mestre, seated between a Capuchin monk and a peasant farmer whosewhole system appeared to be saturated with garlic. I could scarcely havefared worse in my bed at Longarone. 

And so that was my reward for an act of disinterested kindness. Itis only experience that can teach a man to appreciate the ingrainedthanklessness of the human race. I was obliged to make a clean breastof it to my sister, who of course did not keep the secret long; and forsome time afterward I had to submit to a good deal of mild chaff uponthe subject from my friends. But it is an old story now, and two of theactors in it are dead, and of the remaining three I dare say I am theonly one who cares to recall it. Even to me it is a somewhat painfulreminiscence. 

GONERIL, By A. Mary F. Robinson

CHAPTER I THE TWO OLD LADIES

On one of the pleasant hills round Florence, a little beyond Camerata, there stands a house so small that an Englishman would probably take itfor a lodge of the great villa behind, whose garden trees at sunsetcast their shadow over the cottage and its terrace on to the steep whiteroad. But any of the country people could tell him that this, too, is a_casa signorile_, despite its smallness. It stands somewhat high abovethe road, a square white house with a projecting roof, and with fourgreen-shuttered windows overlooking the gay but narrow terrace. The bedsunder the windows would have fulfilled the fancy of that French poetwho desired that in his garden one might, in gathering a nosegay, culla salad, for they boasted little else than sweet basil, small and white, and some tall gray rosemary bushes. Nearer to the door an unusuallylarge oleander faced a strong and sturdy magnolia-tree, and these, withtheir profusion of red and white sweetness, made amends for the dearthof garden flowers. At either end of the terrace flourished a thicketof gum-cistus, syringa, stephanotis, and geranium bushes; and the wallitself, dropping sheer down to the road, was bordered with the customaryFlorentine hedge of China roses and irises, now out of bloom. Greatterra-cotta flower-pots, covered with devices, were placed at intervalsalong the wall; as it was summer, the oranges and lemons, full ofwonderfully sweet white blossoms and young green fruit, were set therein the sun to ripen. 

It was the 17th of June. Although it was after four o'clock, the oliveson the steep hill that went down to Florence looked blindingly white, shadeless, and sharp. The air trembled round the bright green cypressesbehind the house. The roof steamed. All the windows were shut, all thejalousies shut, yet it was so hot that no one could stir within. Themaid slept in the kitchen; the two elderly mistresses of the house dozedupon their beds. Not a movement; not a sound. 

Gradually along the steep road from Camerata there came a roll ofdistant carriage-wheels. The sound came nearer and nearer, till onecould see the carriage, and see the driver leading the tired, thin, cab-horse, his bones starting under the shaggy hide. Inside the carriagereclined a handsome, middle-aged lady, with a stern profile turnedtoward the road; a young girl in pale pink cotton and a broad hattrudged up the hill at the side. 

"Goneril, " said Miss Hamelyn, "let me beg you again to come inside thecarriage. "

"Oh no, Aunt Margaret; I'm not a bit tired. "

"But I have asked you; that is reason enough. "

"It's so hot!" cried Goneril. 

"That is why I object to your walking. "

"But if it's so hot for me, just think how hot is must be for thehorse. "

Goneril cast a commiserating glance at the poor, halting, wheezing nag. 

"The horse, probably, " rejoined Miss Hamelyn, "does not suffer frommalaria, neither has he kept his aunt in Florence nursing him till themiddle heat of the summer. "

"True!" said Goneril. Then, after a few minutes, "I'll get in, AuntMargaret, on one condition. "

"In my time young people did not make conditions. "

"Very well, auntie; I'll get in, and you shall answer all my questionswhen you feel inclined. "

The carriage stopped. The poor horse panted at his ease, while the girlseated herself beside Miss Hamelyn. Then for a few minutes they droveon in silence past the orchards; past the olive-yards, yellow underneaththe ripening corn; past the sudden wide views of the mountains, faintlycrimson in the mist of heat, and, on the other side, of Florence, thetowers and domes steaming beside the hazy river. 

"How hot it looks down there!" cried Goneril. 

"How hot it _feels_!" echoed Miss Hamelyn, rather grimly. 

"Yes, I am so glad you can get away at last, dear, poor old auntie. "Then, a little later, "Won't you tell me something about the old ladieswith whom you are going to leave me?"

Miss Hamelyn was mollified by Goneril's obedience. 

"They are very nice old ladies, " she said; "I met them at Mrs. Gorthrup's. " But this was not at all what the young girl wanted. 

"Only think, Aunt Margaret, " she cried, impatiently, "I am to stay therefor at least six weeks, and I know nothing about them, not what age theyare, nor if they are tall or short, jolly or prim, pretty, or ugly, noteven if they speak English!"

"They speak English, " said Miss Hamelyn, beginning at the end. "One ofthem is English, or at least Irish: Miss Prunty. "

"And the other?"

"She is an Italian, Signora Petrucci; she used to be very handsome. "

"Oh!" said Goneril, looking pleased. "I'm glad she's handsome, and thatthey speak English. But they are not relations?"

"No, they are not connected; they are friends. "

"And have they always lived together?"

"Ever since Madame Lilli died, " and Miss Hamelyn named a very celebratedsinger. 

"Why!" cried Goneril, quite excited; "were they singers too?"

"Madame Petrucci; nevertheless a lady of the highest respectability. Miss Prunty was Madame Lilli's secretary. "

"How nice!" cried the young girl; "how interesting! O auntie, I'm soglad you found them out. "

"So am I, child; but please remember it is not an ordinary pension. They only take you, Goneril, till you are strong enough to travel, as anespecial favour to me and to their old friend, Mrs. Gorthrup. "

"I'll remember, auntie. "

By this time they were driving under the terrace in front of the littlehouse. 

"Goneril, " said the elder lady, "I shall leave you outside; you can playin the garden or the orchard. "

"Very well. "

Miss Hamelyn left the carriage and ascended the steep little flight ofsteps that leads from the road to the cottage garden. 

In the porch a singular figure was awaiting her. 

"Good-afternoon, Madame Petrucci, " said Miss Hamelyn. 

A slender old lady, over sixty, rather tall, in a brown silk skirt, anda white burnoose that showed the shrunken slimness of her arms, cameeagerly forward. She was rather pretty, with small refined features, large expressionless blue eyes, and long whitish-yellow ringlets downher cheeks, in the fashion of forty years ago. 

"Oh, _dear_ Miss Hamelyn, " she cried, "how _glad_ I am to see you! Andhave you brought your _charming_ young relation?"

She spoke with a languid foreign accent, and with an emphatic andbountiful use of adjectives, that gave to our severer generation animpression of insincerity. Yet it was said with truth that GiuliaPetrucci had never forgotten a friend nor an enemy. 

"Goneril is outside, " said Miss Hamelyn. "How is Miss Prunty?"

"Brigida? Oh, you must come inside and see my invaluable Brigida. Sheis, as usual, fatiguing herself with our accounts. " The old lady led theway into the darkened parlour. It was small and rather stiff. Asone's eyes became accustomed to the dim green light one noticed theincongruity of the furniture: the horsehair chairs and sofa, andlarge accountant's desk with ledgers; the large Pleyel grand piano; abookcase, in which all the books were rare copies or priceless MSS. Ofold-fashioned operas; hanging against the wall an inlaid guitar and somefaded laurel crowns; moreover, a fine engraving of a composer, twentyyears ago the most popular man in Italy; lastly, an oil-colour portrait, by Winterman, of a fascinating blonde, with very bare white shoulders, holding in her hands a scroll, on which were inscribed some notes ofmusic, under the title Giulia Petrucci. In short, the private parlour ofan elderly and respectable diva of the year '40. 

"Brigida!" cried Madame Petrucci, going to the door. "Brigida! ourcharming English friend is arrived!"

"All right!" answered a strong, hearty voice from upstairs. "I'mcoming. "

"You must excuse me, dear Miss Hamelyn, " went on Madame Petrucci. "Youmust excuse me for shouting in your presence, but we have only onelittle servant, and during this suffocating weather I find that anymovement reminds me of approaching age. " The old lady smiled as if thattime were still far ahead. 

"I am sure you ought to take care of yourself, " said Miss Hamelyn. "Ihope you will not allow Goneril to fatigue you. "

"Gonerilla! What a pretty name! Charming! I suppose it is in yourfamily?" asked the old lady. 

Miss Hamelyn blushed a little, for her niece's name was a sore pointwith her. 

"It's an awful name for any Christian woman, " said a deep voice at thedoor. "And pray, who's called Goneril?"

Miss Prunty came forward: a short, thick-set woman of fifty, with finedark eyes, and, even in a Florentine summer, with something stiff andmasculine in the fashion of her dress. 

"And have you brought your niece?" she said, as she turned to MissHamelyn. 

"Yes, she is in the garden. "

"Well, I hope she understands that she'll have to rough it here. "

"Goneril is a very simple girl, " said Miss Hamelyn. 

"So it's she that's called Goneril?"

"Yes, " said the aunt, making an effort. "Of course I am aware of thestrangeness of the name, but--but, in fact, my brother was devotedlyattached to his wife, who died at Goneril's birth. "

"Whew!" whistled Miss Prunty. "The parson must have been a fool whochristened her!"

"He did, in fact, refuse; but my brother would have no baptism savingwith that name, which, unfortunately, it is impossible to shorten. "

"I think it is a charming name!" said Madame Petrucci, coming to therescue. "Gonerilla--it dies on one's lips like music! And if you do notlike it, Brigida, what's in a name? as your charming Byron said. "

"I hope we shall make her happy, " said Miss Prunty. 

"Of course we shall!" cried the elder lady. 

"Goneril is easily made happy, " asserted Miss Hamelyn. 

"That's a good thing, " snapped Miss Prunty, "for there's not much here tomake her so!"

"O Brigida! I am sure there are many attractions. The air, the view, the historic association! and, more than all, you know there is always achance of the signorino!"

"Of whom?" said Miss Hamelyn, rather anxiously. 

"Of him!" cried Madame Petrucci, pointing to the engraving opposite. "He lives, of course, in the capital; but he rents the villa behind ourhouse, --the Medici Villa, --and when he is tired of Rome he runs downhere for a week or so; and so your Gonerilla may have the benefit of_his_ society!"

"Very nice, I'm sure, " said Miss Hamelyn, greatly relieved; for she knewthat Signor Graziano must be fifty. 

"We have known him, " went on the old lady, "very nearly thirty years. He used to largely frequent the salon of our dear, our cherished MadameLilli. "

The tears came into the old lady's eyes. No doubt those days seemed nearand dear to her; she did not see the dust on those faded triumphs. 

"That's all stale news!" cried Miss Prunty, jumping up. "And Gon'ril(since I'll have to call her so) must be tired of waiting in thegarden. "

They walked out on to the terrace. The girl was not there, but by thegate into the olive-yard, where there was a lean-to shed for tools, theyfound her sitting on a cask, whittling a piece of wood and talking to acurly-headed little contadino. 

Hearing steps, Goneril turned round. "He was asleep, " she said. "Fancy, in such beautiful weather!"

Then, remembering that two of the ladies were still strangers, she madean old-fashioned little courtesy. 

"I hope you won't find me a trouble, ladies, " she said. 

"She is charming!" said Madame Petrucci, throwing up her hands. 

Goneril blushed; her hat had slipped back and showed her short browncurls of hair, strong regular features, and flexile scarlet mouthlaughing upward like a faun's. She had sweet dark eyes, a little toosmall and narrow. 

"I mean to be very happy, " she exclaimed. 

"Always mean that, my dear, " said Miss Prunty. 

"And now, since Gonerilla is no longer a stranger, " added MadamePetrucci, "we will leave her to the rustic society of Angiolino while weshow Miss Hamelyn our orangery. "

"And conclude our business!" said Bridget Prunty. 

CHAPTER II

THE SIGNORINO

One day, when Goneril, much browner and rosier for a week among themountains, came in to lunch at noon, she found no signs of that usuallyregular repast. The little maid was on her knees polishing the floor;Miss Prunty was scolding, dusting, ordering dinner, arranging vases, allat once; strangest of all, Madame Petrucci had taken the oil-cloth coverfrom her grand piano, and, seated before it, was practising her sweetand faded notes, unheedful of the surrounding din and business. 

"What's the matter?" cried Goneril. 

"We expect the signorino, " said Miss Prunty. 

"And is he going to stay here?"

"Don't be a fool!" snapped that lady; and then she added, "Go into thekitchen and get some of the pasty and some bread and cheese--there's agood girl. "

"All right!" said Goneril. 

Madame Petrucci stopped her vocalising. "You shall have all the bettera dinner to compensate you, my Gonerilla!" She smiled sweetly, and thenagain became Zerlina. 

Goneril cut her lunch, and took it out of doors to share with hercompanion, Angiolino. He was harvesting the first corn under the olives, but at noon it was too hot to work. Sitting still there was, however, acool breeze that gently stirred the sharp-edged olive-leaves. 

Angiolino lay down at full length and munched his bread and cheese inperfect happiness. Goneril kept shifting about to get herself into thenarrow shadow cast by the split and writhen trunk. 

"How aggravating it is!" she cried. "In England, where there's nosun, there's plenty of shade; and here, where the sun is like amustard-plaster on one's back, the leaves are all set edgewise onpurpose that they sha'n't cast any shadow!"

Angiolino made no answer to this intelligent remark. 

"He is going to sleep again!" cried Goneril, stopping her lunch indespair. "He is going to sleep, and there are no end of things I want toknow. Angiolino!"

"_Si_, signora, " murmured the boy. 

"Tell me about Signor Graziano. "

"He is our padrone; he is never here. "

"But he is coming to-day. Wake up, wake up, Angiolino. I tell you, he ison the way!"

"Between life and death there are so many combinations, " drawled theboy, with Tuscan incredulity and sententiousness. 

"Ah!" cried the girl, with a little shiver of impatience. "Is he young?"

"_Che!_"

"Is he old then?"

"_Neppure!_"

"What is he like? He must be _something_. "

"He's our padrone, " repeated Angiolino, in whose imagination SignorGraziano could occupy no other place. 

"How stupid you are!" exclaimed the young English girl. 

"Maybe, " said Angiolino, stolidly. 

"Is he a good padrone? Do you like him?"

"Rather!" The boy smiled and raised himself on one elbow; his eyestwinkled with good-humoured malice. 

"My _babbo_ had much better wine than _quel signore_, " he said. 

"But that is wrong!" cried Goneril, quite shocked. 

"Who knows?"

After this conversation flagged. Goneril tried to imagine what a greatmusician could be like: long hair, of course; her imagination did notget much beyond the hair. He would of course be much older now than hisportrait. Then she watched Angiolino cutting the corn, and learned howto tie the swathes together. She was occupied in this useful employmentwhen the noise of wheels made them both stop and look over the wall. 

"Here's the padrone!" cried the boy. 

"Oh, he is old!" said Goneril. "He is old and brown, like acoffee-bean. "

"To be old and good is better than youth with malice, " suggestedAngiolino, by way of consolation. 

"I suppose so, " acquiesced Goneril. 

Nevertheless she went in to dinner a little disappointed. 

The signorino was not in the house; he had gone up to the villa; buthe had sent a message that later in the evening he intended to pay hisrespects to his old friends. Madame Petrucci was beautifully dressed insoft black silk, old lace, and a white Indian shawl. Miss Prunty had onher starchiest collar and most formal tie. Goneril saw it was necessarythat she, likewise should deck herself in her best. She was muchtoo young and impressionable not to be influenced by the flutter ofexcitement and interest which filled the whole of the little cottage. Goneril, too, was excited and anxious, although Signor Graziano hadseemed so old and like a coffee-bean. She made no progress in the pieceof embroidery she was working as a present for the two old ladies, jumping up and down to look out of the window. When, about eighto'clock, the door-bell rang, Goneril blushed, Madame Petrucci gavea pretty little shriek, Miss Prunty jumped up and rang for coffee. A moment afterward the signorino entered. While he was greeting herhostesses Goneril cast a rapid glance at him. He was tall for anItalian, rather bent and rather gray; fifty at least--therefore veryold. He certainly was brown, but his features were fine and good, and hehad a distinguished and benevolent air that somehow made her think ofan abbe, a French abbe of the last century. She could quite imagine himsaying, "_Enfant de St. Louis, montez au ciel!_"

Thus far had she got in her meditations when she felt herself addressedin clear, half-mocking tones:

"And how, this evening, is Madamigella Ruth?"

So he had seen her this evening binding his corn. 

"I am quite well, padrone, " she said, smiling shyly. 

The two old ladies looked on amazed, for of course they were not in thesecret. 

"Signor Graziano, Miss Goneril Hamelyn, " said Miss Prunty, ratherseverely. 

Goneril felt that the time had come for silence and good manners. Shesat quite quiet over her embroidery, listening to the talk of Sontag, ofClementi, of musicians and singers dead and gone. She noticed that theladies treated Signore Graziano with the utmost reverence, even thepositive Miss Prunty furling her opinions in deference to his gayesthint. They talked too of Madame Lilli, and always as if she were stillyoung and fair, as if she had died yesterday, leaving the echo of hertriumph loud behind her. And yet all this had happened years beforeGoneril had ever seen the light. 

"Mees Goneril is feeling very young!" said the signorino, suddenlyturning his sharp, kind eyes upon her. 

"Yes, " said Goneril, all confusion. 

Madame Petrucci looked almost annoyed--the gay, serene little lady thatnothing ever annoyed. 

"It is she that is young!" she cried, in answer to an unspoken thought. "She is a baby!"

"Oh, I am seventeen!" said Goneril. 

They all laughed, and seemed at ease again. 

"Yes, yes; she is very young, " said the signorino. 

But a little shadow had fallen across their placid entertainment: thespirit had left their memories; they seemed to have grown shapeless, dusty, as the fresh and comely faces of dead Etruscan kings crumble intomould at the touch of the pitiless sunshine. 

"Signorino, " said Madame Petrucci, presently, "if you will accompany mewe will perform one of your charming melodies. "

Signor Graziano rose a little stiffly and led the pretty, witheredlittle diva to the piano. 

Goneril looked on, wondering, admiring. The signorino's thin white handsmade a delicate, fluent melody, reminding her of running water underthe rippled shade of trees, and, like a high, sweet bird, the thin, penetrating notes of the singer rose, swelled, and died away, admirablytrue and just even in this latter weakness. At the end Signor Grazianostopped his playing to give time for an elaborate cadenza. SuddenlyMadame Petrucci gasped; a sharp discordant sound cracked the delicatefinish of her singing. She put her handkerchief to her mouth. 

"Bah!" she said, "this evening I am abominably husky. "

The tears rose to Goneril's eyes. Was it so hard to grow old? This doubtmade her voice loudest of all in the chorus of mutual praise and thankswhich covered the song's abrupt finale. 

And then there came a terrible ordeal. Miss Prunty, anxious to divertthe current of her friend's ideas, had suggested that the girl shouldsing. Signor Graziano and madame insisted; they would take no refusal. 

"Sing, sing, little bird!" cried the old lady. 

"But, madame, how can one--after you?"

The homage in the young girl's voice made the little diva moregood-humouredly insistent than before, and Goneril was too well-bredto make a fuss. She stood by the piano wondering which to choose, theHandels that she always drawled or the Pinsuti that she always galloped. Suddenly she came by an inspiration. 

"Madame, " she pleaded, "may I sing one of Angiolino's songs?"

"Whatever you like, _cara mia_. "

And, standing by the piano, her arms hanging loose, she began a chantsuch as the peasants use working under the olives. Her voice was smalland deep, with a peculiar thick sweetness that suited the song, halfhumourous, half pathetic. These were the words she sang:

 "Vorrei morir di morte piccinina, Morta la sera e viva la mattina. Vorrei morire, e non vorrei morire, Vorrei veder chi mi piange e chi ride; Vorrei morir, e star sulle finestre, Vorrei veder chi mi cuce la veste; Vorrei morir, e stare sulla scala, Vorrei veder chi mi porta la bara: Vorrei morir, e vorre' alzar la voce, Vorrei veder chi mi porta la croce. "

"Very well chosen, my dear, " said Miss Prunty, when the song wasfinished. 

"And very well sung, my Gonerilla!" cried the old lady. 

But the signorino went up to the piano and shook hands with her. 

"Little Mees Goneril, " he said, "you have the makings of an artist. "

The two old ladies stared, for, after all, Goneril's performance hadbeen very simple. You see, they were better versed in music than inhuman nature. 

CHAPTER III

SI VIEILLESSE POUVAIT!

Signor Graziano's usual week of holiday passed and lengthened intoalmost two months, and still he stayed on at the villa. The two oldladies were highly delighted. 

"At last he has taken my advice!" cried Miss Prunty. "I always told himthose premature gray hairs came from late hours and Roman air. "

Madame Petrucci shook her head and gave a meaning smile. Her friendshipwith the signorino had begun when he was a lad and she a charmingmarried woman; like many another friendship, it had begun with aflirtation, and perhaps (who knows?) she thought the flirtation hadrevived. 

As for Goneril, she considered him the most charming old man she hadever known, and liked nothing so much as to go out a walk with him. That, indeed, was one of the signorino's pleasures; he loved to takethe young girl all over his gardens and vineyards, talking to her in theamiable, half-petting, half-mocking manner that he had adopted from thefirst; and twice a week he gave her a music lesson. 

"She has a splendid organ!" he would say. 

"_Vous croyez_?" fluted Madame Petrucci, with the vilest accent and themost aggravating smile imaginable. 

It was the one hobby of the signorino's that she regarded withdisrespect. 

Goneril too was a little bored by the music lesson, but, on the otherhand, the walks delighted her. 

One day Goneril was out with her friend. 

"Are the peasants very much afraid of you, signore?" she asked. 

"Am I such a tyrant?" counter-questioned the signorino. 

"No; but they are always begging me to ask you things. Angiolino wantsto know if he may go for three days to see his uncle at Fiesole. "

"Of course. "

"But why, then, don't they ask you themselves? Is it they think me socheeky?"

"Perhaps they think I can refuse you nothing. "

"_Che!_ In that case they would ask Madame Petrucci. "

Goneril ran on to pick some China roses. The signorino stoppedconfounded. 

"It is impossible!" he cried. "She cannot think I am in love withGiulia! She cannot think I am so old as that!"

The idea seemed horrible to him. He walked on very quickly till he cameup to Goneril, who was busy plucking roses in a hedge. 

"For whom are those flowers?" he asked. 

"Some are for you and some are for Madame Petrucci. "

"She is a charming woman, Madame Petrucci. "

"A dear old lady, " murmured Goneril, much more interested in her posy. 

"Old, do you call her?" said the signorino, rather anxiously. "I shouldscarcely call her that, though of course she is a good deal older thaneither of us. "

"Either of us!" Goneril looked up astounded. Could the signorino havesuddenly gone mad?

He blushed a little under his brown skin that had reminded her of acoffee-bean. 

"She is a good ten years older than I am, " he explained. 

"Ah, well, ten years isn't much. "

"You don't think so?" he cried, delighted. Who knows? she might notthink even thirty too much. 

"Not at that age, " said Goneril, blandly. 

Signor Graziano could think of no reply. 

But from that day one might have dated a certain assumption ofyouthfulness in his manners. At cards it was always the signorino andGoneril against the two elder ladies; in his conversation, too, itwas to the young girl that he constantly appealed, as if she were hisnatural companion--she, and not his friends of thirty years. MadamePetrucci, always serene and kind, took no notice of these littlechanges, but they were particularly irritating to Miss Prunty, who was, after all, only four years older than the signorino. 

That lady had, indeed, become more than usually sharp and foreboding. She received the signorino's gay effusions in ominous silence, and wouldfrown darkly while Madame Petrucci petted her "little bird, " as shecalled Goneril. Once, indeed, Miss Prunty was heard to remark that itwas tempting Providence to have dealings with a creature whose veryname was a synonym for ingratitude. But the elder lady only smiled anddeclared that her Gonerilla was charming, delicious, a real sunshine inthe house. 

"Now I call on you to support me, signorino, " she cried one evening, when the three elders sat together in the room, while Goneril wateredthe roses on the terrace. "Is not my Gonerilla a charming little_bebe_?"

Signor Graziano withdrew his eyes from the window. 

"Most charming, certainly, but scarcely such a child. She is seventeen, you know, my dear signora. "

"Seventeen! _Santo Dio!_ And what is one at seventeen but an innocent, playful, charming little kitten?"

"You are always right, madame, " agreed the signorino, but he looked asif he thought she were very wrong. 

"Of course I am right, " laughed the little lady. "Come here, myGonerilla, and hold my skein for me. Signor Graziano is going to charmus with one of his delightful airs. "

"I hoped she would sing, " faltered the signorino. 

"Who? Gonerilla? Nonsense, my friend. She winds silk much better thanshe sings. "

Goneril laughed; she was not at all offended. But Signor Graziano madeseveral mistakes in his playing. At last he left the piano. "I cannotplay to-night, " he cried. "I am not in the humour. Goneril, will youcome and walk with me on the terrace?"

Before the girl could reply Miss Prunty had darted an angry glance atSignor Graziano. 

"Good Lord, what fools men are!" she ejaculated. "And do you think, now, I'm going to let that girl, who's just getting rid of her malaria, gostar-gazing with any old idiot while all the mists are curling out ofthe valleys?"

"Brigida, my love, you forget yourself, " said Madame Petrucci. 

"Bah!" cried the signorino. He was evidently out of temper. 

The little lady hastened to smooth the troubled waters. "Talking ofmalaria, " she began, in her serenest manner, "I always remember what mydearest Madame Lilli told me. It was at one of Prince Teano's concerts. You remember, signorino?"

"_Che!_ How should I remember?" he exclaimed. "It was a lifetime ago, dead and forgotten. "

The old lady shrank, as if a glass of water had been rudely thrown inher face. She said nothing, staring blindly. 

"Go to bed, Goneril!" cried Miss Prunty, in a voice of thunder. 

CHAPTER IV

BIRDS OF A FEATHER

A few mornings after these events the postman brought a letter forGoneril. This was such a rare occurrence that she blushed rose red atthe very sight of it and had to walk up and down the terrace severaltimes before she felt calm enough to read it. Then she went upstairs andknocked at the door of Madame Petrucci's room. 

"Come in, little bird. "

The old lady, in pink merino and curl-papers, opened the door. Gonerilheld up her letter. 

"My cousin Jack is coming to Florence, and he is going to walk over tosee me this afternoon. And may he stay to dinner, _cara_ signora?"

"Why, of course, Gonerilla. I am charmed!"

Goneril kissed the old lady, and danced downstairs brimming over withdelight. 

Later in the morning Signor Graziano called. 

"Will you come out with me, Mees Goneril?" he said. "On my land theearliest vintage begins to-day. "

"Oh, how nice!" she cried. 

"Come, then, " said the signorino, smiling. 

"Oh, I can't come to-day, because of Jack. "

"Jack?"

"My cousin; he may come at any time. "

"Your cousin!" The signorino frowned a little. "Ah, you English, " hesaid, "you consider all your cousins brothers and sisters!"

Goneril laughed. 

"Is it not so?" he asked, a little anxiously. 

"Jack is much nicer than my brothers, " said the young girl. 

"And who is he, this Jack?"

"He's a dear boy, " said Goneril, "and very clever; he is going home forthe Indian civil-service exam; he has been out to Calcutta to see myfather. "

The signorino did not pay any attention to the latter part of thisdescription, but he appeared to find the beginning very satisfactory. 

"So he is only a boy, " he muttered to himself, and went awaycomparatively satisfied. 

Goneril spent most of the day watching the road from Florence. She mightnot walk on the highway, but a steep short cut that joined the main roadat the bottom of the hill was quite at her disposal. She walked up anddown for more than an hour. At last she saw some one on the Florenceroad. She walked on quickly. It was the telegraph-boy. 

She tore open the envelope and read: "Venice. --Exam. On Wednesday. Startat once. _Arivederci_. "

It was with very red eyes that Goneril went in to dinner. 

"So the cousin hasn't come?" said Miss Prunty, kindly. 

"No; he had to go home at once for his examination. "

"I dare say he'll come over again soon, my dear, " said thatdiscriminating lady. She had quite taken Goneril back into her goodgraces. 

They all sat together in the little parlor after dinner. At eighto'clock the door-bell rang. It was now seven weeks since Goneril hadblushed with excitement when first she heard that ring, and now she didnot blush. 

The signorino entered. He walked very straight and his lips were set. Hecame in with the air of one prepared to encounter opposition. 

"Mees Goneril, " he said, "will you come out on the terrace?--before itis too late, " he added, with a savage glance at Miss Prunty. 

"Yes, " said Goneril; and they went out together. 

"So the cousin did not come?" said the signorino. 

"No. "

They went on a little way in silence together. The night was moon-litand clear; not a wind stirred the leaves; the sky was like a sapphire, containing but not shedding light. The late oleanders smelled verysweet; the moon was so full that one could distinguish the peculiargrayish-pink of the blossoms. 

"It is a lovely night!" said Goneril. 

"And a lovely place. "

"Yes. "

Then a bird sang. 

"You have been here just eight weeks, " said the signorino. 

"I have been very happy. "

He did not speak for a minute or two, and then he said:

"Would you like to live here always?"

"Ah, yes! but that is impossible. "

He took her hand and turned her gently, so that her face was in thelight. 

"Dear Mees Goneril, why is it impossible?"

For a moment the young girl did not answer. She blushed very red, andlooked brave. 

"Because of Jack!" she said. 

"Ah!"

"Nothing is settled, " added the young girl, "but it is no use pretendingnot to know. "

"It is no use, " he repeated, very sadly. 

And then for a little while they listened to the bird. 

"Mees Goneril, " said the signorino at last, "do you know why I broughtyou out here?"

"Not at all, " she answered. 

It was a minute before he spoke again. 

"I am going to Rome to-morrow, " he said, "and I wanted to bid yougood-bye. You will sing to me to-night, as it will be the last time?"

"Oh, I hope not the last time!"

"Yes, yes, " he said, a little testily; "unless--and I pray it may not beso--unless you ever need the help of an old friend. "

"Dear Signor Graziano!"

"And now you will sing me my 'Nobil Amore'?"

"I will do anything you like. "

The signorino sighed and looked at her for a minute. Then he led herinto the little parlour, where Madame Petrucci was singing shrilly inthe twilight. 

THE BRIGAND'S BRIDE: A TALE OF SOUTHERN ITALY, By Laurence Oliphant

The Italian peninsula during the years 1859, 1860, and 1861 offered aparticularly tempting field for adventure to ardent spirits in searchof excitement; and, attracted partly by my sympathy with the popularmovement, and partly by that simple desire, which gives so much zest tothe life of youth, of risking it on all possible occasions, I had takenan active part, chiefly as an officious spectator, in all the principalevents of those stirring years. It was in the spring of 1862 that Ifound matters beginning to settle down to a degree that threatenedmonotony; and with the termination of the winter gaieties at Naples andthe close of the San Carlo, I seriously bethought me of accepting theoffer of a naval friend who was about to engage in blockade-running, andoffered to land me in the Confederate States, when a recrudescence ofactivity on the part of the brigand bands in Calabria induced me to turnmy attention in that direction. The first question I had to considerwas, whether I should enjoy myself most by joining the brigands, or thetroops which were engaged in suppressing them. As the former aspired toa political character, and called themselves patriotic bands fightingfor their church, their country, and their king, --the refugee monarch ofNaples, --one could espouse their cause without exactly laying one's selfopen to the charge of being a bandit; but it was notorious in point offact that the bands cared for neither the pope nor the exiled king northeir annexed country, but committed the most abominable atrocitiesin the names of all the three, for the simple purpose of filling theirpockets. I foresaw not only extreme difficulty in being accepted asa member of the fraternity, more especially as I had hitherto beenidentified with the Garibaldians, but also the probability of findingmyself compromised by acts from which my conscience would revolt, andfor which my life would in all likelihood pay the forfeit. On the otherhand, I could think of no friend among the officers of the bersaglieriand cavalry regiments then engaged in brigand-hunting in the Capitanataand Basilicata to whom I could apply for an invitation to join them. 

Under these circumstances I determined to trust to the chapter ofaccidents; and, armed with a knapsack, a sketch-book, and an air-gun, took my seat one morning in the Foggia diligence, with the vague ideaof getting as near the scene of operations as possible, and seeingwhat would turn up. The air-gun was not so much a weapon of offenceor defence as a means of introduction to the inhabitants. It had theinnocent appearance of rather a thick walking-cane, with a little brasstrigger projecting; and in the afternoon I would join the group sittingin front of the chemist's, which, for some reason or other, is generallya sort of open-air club in a small Neapolitan town, or stroll intothe single modest cafe of which it might possibly boast, and toyabstractedly with the trigger. This, together with my personalappearance, --for do what I would I could never make myself look like aNeapolitan, --would be certain to attract attention, and some one bolderthan the rest would make himself the spokesman, and politely ask mewhether the cane in my hand was an umbrella or a fishing-rod; on whichI would amiably reply that it was a gun, and that I should have muchpleasure in exhibiting my skill and the method of its operation tothe assembled company. Then the whole party would follow me to an openspace, and I would call for a pack of cards, and possibly--for I was agood shot in those days--pink the ace of hearts at fifteen paces. At anyrate, my performances usually called forth plaudits, and this involved afurther interchange of compliments and explanations, and the productionof my sketch-book, which soon procured me the acquaintance of someladies, and an invitation as an English artist to the house of somerespectable citizen. 

So it happened that, getting out of the diligence before it reachedFoggia, I struck south, and wandered for some days from one little townto another, being always hospitably entertained, whether there happenedto be an _albergo_ or not, at private houses, seeing in this way moreof the manners and customs of the inhabitants than would have beenotherwise possible, gaining much information as to the haunts of thebrigands, the whereabouts of the troops, and hearing much local gossipgenerally. The ignorance of the most respectable classes at this periodwas astounding; it has doubtless all changed since. I have been at atown of two thousand inhabitants, not one of whom took in a newspaper;the whole population, therefore, was in as profound ignorance of whatwas transpiring in the rest of the world as if they had been in NovaiaZemlia. I have stayed with a mayor who did not know that England wasan island; I have been the guest of a citizen who had never heard ofScotland, and to whom, therefore, my nationality was an enigma; butI never met any one--I mean of this same class--who had not heard ofPalmerston. He was a mysterious personage, execrated by the "blacks" andadored by the "reds. " And I shone with a reflected lustre as the citizenof a country of which he was the Prime Minister. As a consequence, wehad political discussions, which were protracted far into the night;for the principal meal of the twenty-four hours was a 10-o'clock-P. M. Supper, at which, after the inevitable macaroni, were many unwholesomedishes, such as salads made of thistles, cows' udders, and otherdelicacies, which deprived one of all desire for sleep. Notwithstandingwhich, we rose early, my hostess and the ladies of the establishmentappearing in the early part of the day in the most extreme deshabille. Indeed, on one occasion when I was first introduced into the family of arespectable citizen and shown into my bedroom, I mistook one of the twofemales who were making the bed for the servant, and was surprised tosee her hand a little douceur I gave her as an earnest of attention onher part to the other, with a smile. She soon afterward went to bed: weall did, from 11 A. M. Till about 3 P. M. , at which hour I was horrifiedto meet her arrayed in silks and satins, and to find that she was thewife of my host. She kindly took me a drive with her in a carriage andpair, and with a coachman in livery. 

It was by this simple means, and by thus imposing myself upon thehospitality of these unsophisticated people, that I worked my way, byslow degrees, chiefly on foot, into the part of the country I desired tovisit; and I trust that I in a measure repaid them for it by the storesof information which I imparted to them, and of which they stood much inneed, and by little sketches of their homes and the surrounding scenery, with which I presented them. I was, indeed, dependent in some measurefor hospitality of this description, as I had taken no money with me, partly because, to tell the truth, I had scarcely got any, and partlybecause I was afraid of being robbed by brigands of the little I had. I therefore eschewed the character of a _milordo Inglese_; but I neversucceeded in dispelling all suspicion that I might not be a nephew ofthe Queen, or at least a very near relative of Palmerston in disguise. It was so natural, seeing what a deep interest both her Majesty and thePrime Minister took in Italy, that they should send some one incognitowhom they could trust to tell them all about it. 

Meantime, I was not surprised, when I came to know the disposition ofthe inhabitants, at the success of brigandage. It has never been myfortune before or since to live among such a timid population. One dayat a large town a leading landed proprietor received notice that if hedid not pay a certain sum in blackmail, --I forget at this distance oftime the exact amount, --his farm or _masseria_ would be robbed. Thisfarm, which was in fact a handsome country house, was distant about tenmiles from the town. He therefore made an appeal to the citizens thatthey should arm themselves and help him to defend his property, as hehad determined not to pay, and had taken steps to be informed as to theexact date when the attack was to be made in default of payment. Morethan three hundred citizens enrolled themselves as willing to turn outin arms. On the day preceding the attack by the brigands, a rendezvouswas given to these three hundred on the great square for five in themorning, and thither I accordingly repaired, unable, however, to inducemy host to accompany me, although he had signed as a volunteer. Onreaching the rendezvous, I found the landed proprietor and a friendwho was living with him, and about ten minutes afterward two othervolunteers strolled up. Five was all we could muster out of threehundred. It was manifestly useless to attempt anything with so small aforce, and no arguments could induce any of the others to turn out; sothe unhappy gentleman had the satisfaction of knowing that the brigandshad punctually pillaged his place, carrying off all his live stockon the very day and at the very hour they said they would. As for theinhabitants venturing any distance from town, except under militaryescort, such a thing was unknown, and all communication with Napleswas for some time virtually intercepted. I was regarded as a sort ofmonomaniac of recklessness because I ventured on a solitary walk of amile or two in search of a sketch--an act of no great audacity on mypart, for I had walked through various parts of the country withoutseeing a brigand, and found it difficult to realise that there was anyactual danger in strolling a mile from a moderately large town. 

Emboldened by impunity, I was tempted one day to follow up a mostromantic glen in search of a sketch, when I came upon a remarkablyhandsome peasant girl, driving a donkey before her loaded with wood. My sudden appearance on the narrow path made the animal shy againsta projecting piece of rock, off which he rebounded to the edge of thepath, which, giving way, precipitated him and his load down the ravine. He was brought up unhurt against a bush some twenty feet below, thefagots of wood being scattered in his descent in all directions. For amoment the girl's large, fierce eyes flashed upon me with anger; but theimpetuosity with which I went headlong after the donkey, with a viewof repairing my error, and the absurd attempts I made to reverse theposition of his feet, which were in the air, converted her indignationinto a hearty fit of laughter, as, seeing that the animal was apparentlyuninjured, she scrambled down to my assistance. By our united effortswe at last succeeded in hoisting the donkey up to the path, and then Icollected the wood and helped her to load it again--an operation whichinvolved a frequent meeting of hands and of the eyes, which had now lostthe ferocity that had startled me at first, and seemed getting more softand beaming every time I glanced at them, till at last, producing mysketch-book, I ventured to remark, "Ah, signorina, what a picture youwould make! Now that the ass is loaded, let me draw you before we part, that I may carry away the recollection of the loveliest woman I haveseen. "

"First draw the donkey, " she replied, "that I may carry away arecollection of the _galantuomo_ who first upset him over the bank, andthen helped me to load him. "

Smiling at this ambiguous compliment, I gave her the sketch she desired, and was about to claim my reward, when she abruptly remarked:

"There is not time now; it is getting late, and I must not linger, asI have still an hour to go before reaching home. How is it that you arenot afraid to be wandering in this solitary glen by yourself? Do you notknow the risks?"

"I have heard of them, but I do not believe in them, " I said; "besides, I should be poor plunder for robbers. "

"But you have friends, who would pay to ransom you, I suppose, if youwere captured?"

"My life is not worth a hundred scudi to any of them, " I replied, laughing; "but I am willing to forego the please of drawing you now, _bellissima_, if you will tell me where you live, and let me come andpaint you there at my leisure. "

"You're a brave one, " she said, with a little laugh; "there is notanother man in all Ascoli who would dare to pay me a visit without anescort of twenty soldiers. But I am too grateful for your amiability tolet you run such a risk. _Addio_, Signor Inglese. There are many reasonswhy I can't let you draw my picture, but I am not ungrateful, see!"--andshe offered me her cheek, on which I instantly imprinted a chaste andfraternal salute. 

"Don't think that you've seen the last of me, _carrissima_, " I calledout, as she turned away. "I shall live on the memory of that kiss till Ihave an opportunity of repeating it. "

And as I watched her retreating figure with an artist's eye, I wasstruck with its grace and suppleness, combined, as I had observedwhile she was helping me to lead the donkey, with an unusual degree ofmuscular strength for a woman. 

The spot at which this episode had taken place was so romantic thatI determined to make a sketch of it, and the shades of evening wereclosing in so fast that they warned me to hurry if I would reach thetown before dark. I had just finished it and was stooping to pick up byair-gun, when I heard a sudden rush, and before I had time to look up Iwas thrown violently forward on my face, and found myself struggling inthe embrace of a powerful grasp, from which I had nearly succeeded infreeing myself, when the arms which were clasping me were reinforced byseveral more pairs, and I felt a rope being passed round my body. 

"All right, signors!" I exclaimed. "I yield to superior numbers. Youneed not pull so hard; let me get up, and I promise to go with youquietly. " And by this time I had turned sufficiently on my back to seethat four men were engaged in tying me up. 

"Tie his elbows together and let him get up, " said one; "he is notarmed. Here, Giuseppe, carry his stick and paint-box while I feel hispockets. _Corpo di Baccho!_ twelve bajocchi, " he exclaimed, producingthose copper coins with an air of profound disgust. "It is to be hopedhe is worth more to his friends. Now, young man, trudge, and rememberthat the first sign you make of attempting to run away means fourbullets through you. "

As I did not anticipate any real danger, and as a prolonged detentionwas a matter of no consequence to a man without an occupation, Istepped forward with a light heart, rather pleased than otherwise withanticipations of the brigand's cave, and turning over in my mind whetheror not I should propose to join the band. 

We had walked an hour and it had become dark, when we turned off theroad, up a narrow path that led between rocky sides to a glade, at theextremity of which, under an overhanging ledge, was a small cottage, with what seemed to be a patch of garden in front. 

"Ho! Anita!" called out the man who appeared to be the leader of theband; "open! We have brought a friend to supper, who will require anight's lodgings. "

An old woman with a light appeared, and over her shoulder, to mydelight, I saw the face I had asked to be allowed to paint so shortlybefore. I was about to recognise her with an exclamation, when I saw ahurried motion of her finger to her lip, which looked a natural gestureto the casual observer, but which I construed into a sign of prudence. 

"Where did you pick him up, Croppo?" she asked, carelessly. "He ought tobe worth something. "

"Just twelve bajocchi, " he answered, with a sneering laugh. "Come, _amico mio_, you will have to give us the names of some of yourfriends. "

"I am tolerably intimate with his Holiness the Pope, and I have a bowingacquaintance with the King of Naples, whom may God speedily restoreto his own, " I replied, in a light and airy fashion, which seemedexceedingly to exasperate the man called Croppo. 

"Oh, yes, we know all about that; we never catch a man who does notprofess to be a Nero of the deepest dye in order to conciliate oursympathies. It is just as well that you should understand, my friend, that all are fish who come into our net. The money of the pope's friendsis quite as good as the money of Garibaldi's. You need not hope to putus off with your Italian friends of any colour; what we want is Englishgold--good, solid English gold, and plenty of it. "

"Ah, " said I, with a laugh, "if you did but know, my friend, how longI have wanted it too! If you could only suggest an Englishman who wouldpay you for my life, I would write to him immediately, and we would gohalves in the ransom. Hold!" I said, a bright idea suddenly striking me. "Suppose I were to write to my government--how would that do?"

Croppo was evidently puzzled; my cheerful and unembarrassed mannerapparently perplexed him. He had a suspicion that I was even capable ofthe audacity of making a fool of him, and yet that proposition about thegovernment rather staggered him; there might be something in it. 

"Don't you think, " he remarked, grimly, "it would add to the effect ofyour communication if you were to enclose your own ears in your letter?I can easily supply them; and if you are not a little more guarded inyour speech you may possibly have to add your tongue. "

"It would not have the slightest effect, " I replied, paying no heedto his threat; "you don't know Palmerston as I do. If you wish to getanything out of him you must be excessively civil. What does he careabout my ears?" And I laughed with such scornful contempt that Croppothis time felt that he had made a fool of himself, and I observedthe lovely girl behind, while the corners of her mouth twitched withsuppressed laughter, make a sign of caution. 

"_Per Dio!_" he exclaimed, jumping up with fury. "Understand, SignorInglese, that Croppo is not to be trifled with. I have a summary way oftreating disrespect, " and he drew a long and exceedingly sharp-lookingtwo-edged knife. 

"So you would kill the goose" ("and I certainly am a goose, " Ireflected) "that may lay a golden egg. " But my allusion was lost uponhim, and I saw my charmer touch her forehead significantly, as though toimply to Croppo that I was weak in the upper story. 

"An imbecile without friends and twelve bajocchi in his pocket, " hemuttered, savagely. "Perhaps the night without food will restore hissenses. Come, fool!" and he roughly pushed me into a dark little chamberadjoining. "Here, Valeria, hold the light. "

So Valeria was the name of the heroine of the donkey episode. As sheheld a small oil-lamp aloft I perceived that the room in which I was tospend the night had more the appearance of a cellar than a chamber; ithad been excavated on two sides from the bank; on the third there wasa small hole about six inches square, apparently communicating withanother room, and on the fourth was the door by which I had entered, and which opened into the kitchen and general living-room of theinhabitants. There was a heap of onions running to seed, the fagots offire-wood which Valeria had brought that afternoon, and an old cask ortwo. 

"Won't you give him some kind of a bed?" she asked Croppo. 

"Bah! he can sleep on the onions, " responded that worthy. "If he hadbeen more civil and intelligent he should have had something to eat. Youthree, " he went on, turning to the other men, "sleep in the kitchen, and watch that the prisoner does not escape. The door has a strong boltbesides. Come, Valeria. "

And the pair disappeared, leaving me in a dense gloom, strongly pervadedby an ordour of fungus and decaying onions. Groping into one of thecasks, I found some straw, and spreading it on a piece of plank, Iprepared to pass the night sitting with my back to the driest pieceof wall I could find, which happened to be immediately under theair-hole--a fortunate circumstance, as the closeness was often stifling. I had probably been dozing for some time in a sitting position, when Ifelt something tickle the top of my head. The idea that it might be alarge spider caused me to start, when, stretching up my hand, it came incontact with what seemed to be a rag, which I had not observed. Gettingcarefully up, I perceived a faint light gleaming through the aperture, and then saw that a hand was protruded through it, apparently waving therag. As I felt instinctively that the hand was Valeria's, I seized thefinger-tips, which was all I could get hold of, and pressed them tomy lips. They were quickly drawn away, and then the whisper reached myears:

"Are you hungry?"

"Yes. "

"Then eat this, " and she passed me a tin pannikin full of cold macaroni, which would just go through the opening. 

"Dear Valeria, " I said, with my mouth full, "how good and thoughtful youare!"

"Hush! he'll hear. "

"Who?"

"Croppo. "

"Where is he?"

"Asleep in the bed just behind me. "

"How do you come to be in his bedroom?"

"Because I'm his wife. "

"Oh!" A long pause, during which I collapsed upon my straw seat, andswallowed macaroni thoughtfully. As the result of my meditations, "Valeria, _carissima_!"

"Hush! Yes. "

"Can't you get me out of this infernal den?"

"Perhaps, if they all three sleep in the kitchen; at present one isawake. Watch for my signal, and if they all three sleep I will manage toslip the bolt. Then you must give me time to get back into bed, and whenyou hear me snore you may make the attempt. They are all three sleepingon the floor, so be very careful where you tread; I will also leave thefront door a little open, so that you can slip through without noise. "

"Dearest Valeria!"

"Hush! Yes. "

"Hand me that cane--it is my fishing-rod, you know--through this hole;you can leave the sketch-book and paint-box under the tree that thedonkey fell against; I will call for them some day soon. And, Valeria, don't you think we could make our lips meet through this beastly hole?"

"Impossible. There's my hand; heavens! Croppo would murder me if heknew. Now keep quiet till I give the signal. Oh, do let go my hand!"

"Remember, Valeria, _bellissima, carissima_, whatever happens, that Ilove you. "

But I don't think she heard this, and I went and sat on the onions, because I could see the hole better and the smell of them kept me awake. 

It was at least two hours after this that the faint light appeared atthe hole in the wall and a hand was pushed through. I rushed at thefinger-tips. 

"Here's your fishing-rod, " she said, when I had released them and shehad passed me my air-gun. "Now be very careful how you tread. There isone asleep across the door, but you can open it about two feet. Thenstep over him; then make for a gleam of moonlight that comes through thecrack of the front door, open it very gently, and slip out. _Addio, caroInglese_; mind you wait till you hear me snoring. "

Then she lingered, and I heard a sigh. 

"What is it, sweet Valeria?" and I covered her hand with kisses. 

"I wish Croppo had blue eyes like you. "

This was murmured so softly that I may have been mistaken, but I'mnearly sure that was what she said; then she drew softly away, and twominutes afterward I heard her snoring. As the first sound issued fromher lovely nostrils I stealthily approached the door, gently pushedit open, stealthily stepped over a space which I trusted cleared therecumbent figure that I could not see, cleared him, stole gently on forthe streak of moonlight, trod squarely on something that seemed like anoutstretched hand, for it gave under my pressure and produced a yell, felt that I must now rush for my life, dashed the door open, and downthe path with four yelling ruffians at my heels. I was a pretty goodrunner, but the moon was behind a cloud and the way was rocky; moreover, there must have been a short cut I did not know, for one of my pursuersgained upon me with unaccountable rapidity--he appeared suddenly withinten yards of my heels. The others were at least a hundred yards behind. I had nothing for it but to turn round, let him almost run against themuzzle of my air-gun, pull the trigger, and see him fall in his tracks. It was the work of a second, but it checked my pursuers. They had heardno noise, but they found something that they did not bargain for, andlingered a moment; then, they took up the chase with redoubled fury. ButI had too good a start; and where the path joined the main road, insteadof turning down toward the town as they expected I would, I dodged roundin the opposite direction, the uncertain light this time favouring me, and I heard their footsteps and their curses dying away on the wrongtrack. Nevertheless I ran on at full speed, and it was not till the daywas dawning that I began to feel safe and relax my efforts. The sun hadbeen up an hour when I reached a small town, and the little _locanda_was just opening for the day when I entered it, thankful for a hot cupof coffee and a dirty little room, with a dirtier bed, where I couldsleep off the fatigue and excitement of the night. I was strollingdown almost the only street in the afternoon when I met a couple ofcarabineers riding into it, and shortly after encountered the wholetroop, to my great delight in command of an intimate friend whom I hadleft a month before in Naples. 

"Ah, _caro mio_, " he exclaimed, when he saw me, "well met! What on earthare you doing here? Looking for those brigands you were so anxious tofind when you left Naples? Considering that you are in the heart oftheir country, you should not have much difficulty in gratifying yourcuriosity. "

"I have had an adventure or two, " I replied, carelessly. "Indeed, thatis partly the reason you find me here. I was just thinking how I couldget safely back to Ascoli, when your welcome escort appeared; for Isuppose you are going there and will let me take advantage of it. "

"Only too delighted; and you can tell me your adventures. Let us dinetogether to-night, and I will find you a horse to ride on with us in themorning. "

I am afraid my account of the episode with which I have acquainted thereader was not strictly accurate in all its details, as I did not wishto bring down my military friends on poor Valeria; so I skipped allallusion to her and my detention in her home, merely saying that I hadhad a scuffle with brigands and had been fortunate enough to escapeunder cover of the night. As we passed it next morning I recognised thepath which led up to Valeria's cottage, and shortly after observed thatyoung woman herself coming up the glen. 

"Holloa!" I said, with great presence of mind, as she drew near, "mylovely model, I declare! Just you ride on, old fellow, while I stop andask her when she can come and sit to me again. "

"You artists are sad rogues; what chances your profession must giveyou!" remarked my companion, as he cast an admiring glance on Valeriaand rode discreetly on. 

"There is nothing to be afraid of, lovely Valeria, " I said, in a lowtone, as I lingered behind; "be sure I will never betray either your oryour rascally--hem! I mean your excellent Croppo. By the by, was thatman much hurt that I was obliged to trip up?"

"Hurt! Santa Maria! he is dead, with a bullet through his heart. Cropposays it must have been magic, for he had searched you and he knew youwere not armed, and he was within a hundred yards of you when poor Pippofell, and he heard no sound. "

"Croppo is not far wrong, " I said, glad of the opportunity thus offeredof imposing on the ignorance and credulity of the natives. "He seemedsurprised that he could not frighten me the other night. Tell him he wasmuch more in my power than I was in his, dear Valeria, " I added, lookingtenderly into his eyes. "I didn't want to alarm you; that was the reasonI let him off so easily; but I may not be so merciful next time. Now, sweetest, that kiss you owe me, and which the wall prevented your givingme the other night. " She held up her face with the innocence of a childas I stooped from my saddle. 

"I shall never see you again, Signor Inglese, " she said, with a sigh;"for Croppo says it is not safe, after what happened the night beforelast, to stay another hour. Indeed, he went off yesterday, leaving meorders to follow to-day; but I went first to put your sketch-book underthe bush where the donkey fell, and where you will find it. "

It took us another minute or two to part after this; and when I hadridden away I turned to look back, and there was Valeria gazing afterme. "Positively, " I reflected, "I am over head and ears in love with thegirl, and I believe she is with me. I ought to have nipped my feelingsin the bud when she told me she was his wife; but then he is a brigand, who threatened both my ears and my tongue, to say nothing of my life. To what extent is the domestic happiness of such a ruffian to berespected?" And I went on splitting the moral straws suggested by thistrain of thought until I had recovered my sketch-book and overtaken myescort, with whom I rode triumphantly back into Ascoli, where my absencehad been the cause of much anxiety and my fate was even then beingeagerly discussed. My friends with whom I usually sat round thechemist's door were much exercised by the reserve which I manifested inreply to the fire of cross-examination to which I was subjected for thenext few days; and English eccentricity, which was proverbial even inthis secluded town, received a fresh illustration in the light and airymanner with which I treated a capture and escape from brigands, whichI regarded with such indifference that I could not be induced even tocondescend to details. "It was a mere scuffle; there were only four;and, being an Englishman, I polished them all off with the 'box, '"and I closed my fist and struck a scientific attitude of self-defence, branching off into a learned disquisition on the pugilistic art, whichfilled my hearers with respect and amazement. From this time forward thesentiment with which I regarded my air-gun underwent a change. When afriend had made me a present of it a year before I regarded it in thelight of a toy and rather resented the gift as too juvenile. "I wonderhe did not give me a kite or a hoop, " I mentally reflected. Then Ihad found it useful among Italians, who are a trifling people and likeplaythings; but now that it had saved my life and sent a bullet througha man's heart, I no longer entertained the same feeling of contemptfor it. Not again would I make light of it--this potent engine ofdestruction which had procured me the character of being a magician. Iwould hide it from human gaze and cherish it as a sort of fetich. So Ibought a walking-stick and an umbrella, and strapped it up with them, wrapped in my plaid; and when, shortly after, an unexpected remittancefrom an aunt supplied me with money enough to buy a horse from one ofthe officers of my friend's regiment, which soon after arrived, and Iaccepted their invitation to accompany them on their brigand-huntingexpeditions, not one of them knew that I had such a weapon as an air-gunin my possession. 

Our _modus operandi_ on these occasions was as follows: On receivinginformation from some proprietor that the brigands were threatening hisproperty, --it was impossible to get intelligence from the peasantry, for they were all in league with the brigands; indeed, they all took aholiday from regular work and joined a band for a few weeks from time totime, --we proceeded, with a force sufficiently strong to cope with thesupposed strength of the band, to the farm in question. The bands wereall mounted, and averaged from 200 to 400 men each. It was calculatedthat upward of 2000 men were thus engaged in harrying the country, andthis enabled the Neri to talk of the king's forces engaged in legitimatewarfare against those of Victor Emmanuel. Riding over the vast plainsof Capitanata, we would discern against the sky outline the figure of asolitary horseman. This we knew to be a picket. Then there was no timeto be lost, and away we would go for him helter-skelter across theplain; he would instantly gallop in on the main body, probably occupyinga _masseria_. If they thought they were strong enough they would showfight. If not they would take to their heels in the direction of themountains, with us in full cry after them. If they were hardly pressedthey would scatter, and we were obliged to do the same, and theresult would be that the swiftest horsemen might possibly effect a fewcaptures. It was an exciting species of warfare, partaking a good dealmore of the character of a hunting-field than of cavalry skirmishing. Sometimes, where the ground was hilly, we had bersaglieri with us, andas the brigands took to the mountains the warfare assumed a differentcharacter. Sometimes, in default of these active little troops, we tooklocal volunteers, whom we found a very poor substitute. On more thanone occasion when we came upon the brigands in a farm they thoughtthemselves sufficiently strong to hold it against us, and once thecowardice of the volunteers was amusingly illustrated. The band wasestimated at about 200, and we had 100 volunteers and a detachment of 50cavalry. On coming under the fire of the brigands the cavalry captain, who was in command, ordered the volunteers to charge, intending whenthey had dislodged the enemy to ride him down on the open; but thevolunteer officer did not repeat the word and stood stock-still, his menall imitating his example. 

"Charge! I say, " shouted the cavalry captain, "why don't you charge? Ibelieve you're afraid!"

"_E vero_, " said the captain of volunteers, shrugging his shoulders. 

"Here, take my horse--you're only fit to be a groom; and you, men, dismount and let these cowards hold your horses, while you follow me. "And, jumping from his horse, the gallant fellow, followed by his men, charged the building, from which a hot fire was playing upon them, swordin hand. In less than a quarter of an hour the brigands were scampering, some on foot and some on horseback, out of the farm buildings, followedby a few stray and harmless shots from such of the volunteers as hadtheir hands free. We lost three men killed and five wounded in thislittle skirmish, and killed six of the brigands, besides making a dozenprisoners. When I say "we" I mean my companions, for, having no weapon, I had discreetly remained with the volunteers. The scene of this gallantexploit was on the classic battle-field of Cannae. This captain, who wasnot the friend I had joined the day after my brigand adventure, was amost plucky and dashing cavalry officer, and was well seconded by hismen, who were all Piedmontese and of a very different temperament fromthe Neapolitans. On one occasion a band of 250 brigands waited for us onthe top of a small hill, never dreaming that we should charge up it withthe odds five to one against us; but we did, and after firing a volleyat us, which emptied a couple of saddles, they broke and fled when wewere about twenty yards from them. Then began one of the most excitingscurries across country it was ever my fortune to be engaged in. Thebrigands scattered--so did we; and I found myself with two troopers inchase of a pair of bandits, one of whom seemed to be the chief of theband. A small stream wound through the plain, which we dashed across. Just beyond was a tributary ditch, which would have been considered afair jump in the hunting-field: both brigands took it in splendid style. The hindmost was not ten yards ahead of the leading trooper, who camea cropper; on which the brigand reined up, fired a pistol-shot into theprostrate horse and man, and was off; but the delay cost him dear. Theother trooper, who was a little ahead of me, got safely over. I followedsuit. In another moment he had fired his carabine into the brigand'shorse, and down they both came by the run. We instantly reined up, forI saw there was no chance of overtaking the remaining brigand, and thetrooper was in the act of cutting down the man as he struggled to hisfeet, when to my horror I recognised the lovely features of--Valeria. 

"Stay, man!" I shouted, throwing myself from my horse. "It's a woman!touch her if you dare!" And then, seeing the man's eye gleam withindignation, I added, "Brave soldiers, such as you have proved yourselfto be, do not kill women; though your traducers say you do, do notgive them cause to speak truth. I will be responsible for this woman'ssafety. Here, to make it sure you had better strap us together. " Ipiqued myself exceedingly on this happy inspiration, whereby I securedan arm-in-arm walk, of a peculiar kind, it is true, with Valeria; andindeed my readiness to sacrifice myself seemed rather to astonish thesoldier, who hesitated. However, his comrade, whose horse had been shotin the ditch, now came up, and seconded my proposal as I offered him amount on mine. 

"How on earth am I to let you escape, dear Valeria?" I whispered, givingher a sort of affectionate nudge; the position of our arms prevented mysqueezing hers as I could have wished, and the two troopers kept behindus, watching us, I thought, suspiciously. 

"It is quite impossible now--don't attempt it, " she answered; "perhapsthere may be an opportunity later. "

"Was that Croppo who got away?" I asked. 

"Yes. He could not get his cowardly men to stand on that hill. "

"What a bother those men are behind, dearest! Let me pretend to scratchmy nose with this hand that is tied to yours, which I can thus bring tomy lips. "

I accomplished this manoeuvre rather neatly, but parties now camestraggling in from other directions, and I was obliged to give upwhispering and become circumspect. They all seemed rather astonishedat our group, and the captain laughed heartily as he rode up and calledout, "Who have you got tied to you there, _caro mio_?"

"Croppo's wife. I had her tied to me for fear she should escape;besides, she is not bad-looking. "

"What a prize!" he exclaimed. "We have made a tolerable haul thistime--twenty prisoners in all, among them the priest of the band. Ourcolonel has just arrived, so I am in luck; he will be delighted. See theprisoners are being brought up to him now; but you had better remountand present yours in a less singular fashion. "

When we reached the colonel we found him examining the priest. Hisbreviary contained various interesting notes written on some of thefly-leaves. 

For instance:

"Administered extreme unction to A----, shot by Croppo's order; my shareten scudi. 

"Ditto, ditto, to R----, hung by Croppo's order, my share two scudi. 

"Ditto, ditto, to S----, roasted by Croppo's order to make him namean agent to bring his ransom; overdone by mistake, and died, so gotnothing. 

"Ditto, ditto, to P----, executed by the knife by Croppo's order fordisobedience. 

"M---- and F---- and D----, three new members, joined to-day; confessedthem, and received the usual fees. "

He was a dark, beetle-browed-looking ruffian, this holy man; and thecolonel, when he had finished examining his book of prayer and crime, tossed it to me, saying, "There! that will show your friends in Englandthe kind of politicians we make war against. Ha! what have we here?This is more serious. " And he unfolded a piece of paper which had beenconcealed in the breast of the priest. "This contains a little valuableinformation, " he added, with a grim smile. "Nobody like priests andwomen for carrying about political secrets, so you may have made avaluable capture, " and he turned to where I stood with Valeria; "let herbe carefully searched. "

Now the colonel was a very pompous man, and the document he had justdiscovered on the priest added to his sense of self-importance. When, therefore, a large, carefully folded paper was produced from theneighbourhood of Valeria's lovely bosom his eyes sparkled withadmiration. "Ho, ho!" he exclaimed, as he clutched it eagerly, "the plotis thickening!" And he spread out triumphantly, before he had himselfseen what it was, the exquisitely drawn portrait of a donkey. There wasa suppressed titter, which exploded into a shout when the bystanderslooked into the colonel's indignant face. I only was affecteddifferently as my gaze fell upon this touching evidence of dearValeria's love for me, and I glanced at her tenderly. "This has adeeper significance than you think for, " said the colonel, looking roundangrily. "Croppo's wife does not carefully secrete a drawing like thaton her person for nothing. See, it is done by no common artist. It meanssomething, and must be preserved. "

"It may have a biblical reference to the state of Italy. You rememberIssachar was likened to an ass between two burdens. In that case itprobably emanated from Rome, " I remarked; but nobody seemed to see thepoint of the allusion, and the observation fell flat. 

That night I dined with the colonel, and after dinner I persuaded him tolet me visit Valeria in prison, as I wished to take the portrait of thewife of the celebrated brigand chief. I thanked my stars that my friendwho had seen her when we met in the glen was away on duty with hisdetachment and could not testify to our former acquaintance. 

My meeting with Valeria on this occasion was too touching and full oftender passages to be of any general interest. Valeria told me that shewas still a bride, that she had only been married a few months, and thatshe had been compelled to become Croppo's wife against her choice, asthe brigand's will was too powerful to be resisted; but that, thoughhe was jealous and attached to her, he was stern and cruel, and, so farfrom winning her love since her marriage, he had rather estranged itby his fits of passion and ferocity. As may be imagined, the portrait, which was really very successful, took some time in execution, the moreespecially as we had to discuss the possibilities of Valeria's escape. 

"We are going to be transferred to-morrow to the prison at Foggia, " shesaid. "If while we were passing through the market-place a disturbanceof some sort could be created, as it is market-day and all the countrypeople know me and are my friends, a rescue might be attempted. I knowhow to arrange for that, only they must see some chance of success. "

A bright thought suddenly struck me; it was suggested by a trick I hadplayed shortly after my arrival in Italy. 

"You know I am something of a magician, Valeria; you have had proof ofthat. If I create a disturbance by magic to-morrow when you are passingthrough the market-place, you won't stay to wonder what is the cause ofthe confusion, but instantly take advantage of it to escape. "

"Trust me for that, _caro mio_. "

"And if you escape when shall we meet again?"

"I am known too well now to risk another meeting. I shall be in hidingwith Croppo, where it will be impossible for you to find me, nor whilehe lives could I ever dare to think of leaving him; but I shall neverforget you, "--and she pressed my hands to her lips, --"though I shall nolonger have the picture of the donkey to remember you by. "

"See, here's my photograph; that will be better, " said I, feeling alittle annoyed--foolishly, I admit. Then we strained each other to ourrespective hearts and parted. Now it so happened that my room in the_lacanda_ in which I was lodging overlooked the market-place. Here atten o'clock in the morning I posted myself; for that was the hour, asI had been careful to ascertain, when the prisoners were to start forFoggia. I opened the window about three inches and fixed it there; Itook out my gun, put eight balls in it, and looked down upon the square. It was crowded with the country people in their bright-coloured costumeschaffering over their produce. I looked above them to the tall campanileof the church which filled one side of the square. I receded a step andadjusted my gun on the ledge of the window to my satisfaction. I thenlooked down the street in which the prison was situated, and whichdebouched on the square, and awaited events. At ten minutes past ten Isaw the soldiers at the door of the prison form up, and then I knew thatthe twenty prisoners of whom they formed the escort were starting; butthe moment they began to move I fired at the big bell in the campanile, which responded with a loud clang. All the people in the square lookedup. As the prisoners entered the square, which they had begun to crossin its whole breadth, I fired again and again. The bell banged twice, and the people began to buzz about. "Now, " I thought, "I must let theold bell have it. " By the time five more balls had struck the bellwith a resounding din the whole square was in commotion. A miracle wasevidently in progress or the campanile was bewitched. People beganto run hither and thither; all the soldiers forming the escort gapedopen-mouthed at the steeple as the clangour continued. As soon as thelast shot had been fired I looked down into the square and saw all this, and I saw that the prisoners were attempting to escape, and in morethan one instance had succeeded, for the soldiers began to scatter inpursuit, and the country people to form themselves into impeding crowdsas though by accident; but nowhere could I see Valeria. When I wasquite sure she had escaped I went down and joined the crowd. I saw threeprisoners captured and brought back, and when I asked the officer incommand how many had escaped he said three--Croppo's wife, the priest, and another. 

When I met my cavalry friends at dinner that evening it was amusing tohear them speculate upon the remarkable occurrence which had, in fact, upset the wits of the whole town. Priests and vergers and sacristanshad visited the campanile, and one of them had brought away a flattenedpiece of lead, which looked as if it might have been a bullet; but thesuggestion that eight bullets could have hit the bell in successionwithout anybody hearing a sound was treated with ridicule. I believe thebell was subsequently exorcised with holy water. I was afraid to remainwith the regiment with my air-gun after this, lest some one shoulddiscover it and unravel the mystery; besides, I felt a sort of traitorto the brave friends who had so generously offered me their hospitality;so I invented urgent private affairs which demanded my immediate returnto Naples, and on the morning of my departure found myself embraced byall the officers of the regiment from the colonel downward, who in thefervour of their kisses thrust sixteen waxed moustache-points against mycheeks. 

About eighteen months after this I heard of the capture and executionof Croppo, and I knew that Valeria was free; but I had unexpectedlyinherited a property and was engaged to be married. I am now a countrygentleman with a large family. My sanctum is stocked with variousmementos of my youthful adventures, but none awakens in me suchthrilling memories as are excited by the breviary of the brigand priestand the portrait of the brigand's bride. 

MRS. GENERAL TALBOYS, by Anthony Trollope

Why Mrs. General Talboys first made up her mind to pass the winter of1859 at Rome I never clearly understood. To myself she explained herpurposes soon after her arrival at the Eternal City, by declaring, inher own enthusiastic manner, that she was inspired by a burning desireto drink fresh at the still living fountains of classical poetry andsentiment. But I always thought that there was something more than thisin it. Classical poetry and sentiment were doubtless very dear to her, but so also, I imagine, were the substantial comforts of Hardover Lodge, the general's house in Berkshire; and I do not think that she wouldhave emigrated for the winter had there not been some slight domesticmisunderstanding. Let this, however, be fully made clear--that suchmisunderstanding, if it existed, must have been simply an affair oftemper. No impropriety of conduct has, I am very sure, ever been imputedto the lady. The general, as all the world knows, is hot; and Mrs. Talboys, when the sweet rivers of her enthusiasm are unfed by congenialwaters, can, I believe, make herself disagreeable. 

But be this as it may, in November, 1859, Mrs. Talboys came amongus English at Rome, and soon succeeded in obtaining for herself acomfortable footing in our society. We all thought her more remarkablefor her mental attributes than for physical perfection, but neverthelessshe was in her own way a sightly woman. She had no special brilliance, either of eye or complexion, such as would produce sudden flames insusceptible hearts, nor did she seem to demand instant homage by theform and step of a goddess; but we found her to be a good-looking womanof some thirty or thirty-three years of age, with soft, peach-likecheeks, --rather too like those of a cherub, --with sparkling eyes whichwere hardly large enough, with good teeth, a white forehead, a dimpledchin, and a full bust. Such outwardly was Mrs. General Talboys. Thedescription of the inward woman is the purport to which these few pageswill be devoted. 

There are two qualities to which the best of mankind are much subject, which are nearly related to each other, and as to which the world hasnot yet decided whether they are to be classed among the good or evilattributes of our nature. Men and women are under the influence of themboth, but men oftenest undergo the former, and women the latter. Theyare ambition and enthusiasm. Now Mrs. Talboys was an enthusiastic woman. 

As to ambition, generally as the world agrees with Mark Antony instigmatising it as a grievous fault, I am myself clear that it is avirtue; but with ambition at present we have no concern. Enthusiasmalso, as I think, leans to virtue's side, or, at least, if it be afault, of all faults it is the prettiest. But then, to partake at all ofvirtue or even to be in any degree pretty, the enthusiasm must be true. 

Bad coin is known from good by the ring of it, and so is bad enthusiasm. Let the coiner be ever so clever at his art, in the coining ofenthusiasm the sound of true gold can never be imparted to the falsemetal; and I doubt whether the cleverest she in the world can make falseenthusiasm palatable to the taste of man; to the taste of any woman theenthusiasm of another woman is never very palatable. 

We understood at Rome that Mrs. Talboys had a considerable family, --fouror five children, we were told, --but she brought with her only onedaughter, a little girl about twelve years of age. She had torn herselfasunder, as she told me, from the younger nurslings of her heart, andhad left them to the care of a devoted female attendant, whose love wasall but maternal. And then she said a word or two about the general interms which made me almost think that this quasi-maternal love extendeditself beyond the children. The idea, however, was a mistaken one, arising from the strength of her language, to which I was thenunaccustomed. I have since become aware that nothing can be moredecorous than old Mrs. Upton, the excellent head nurse at HardoverLodge; and no gentleman more discreet in his conduct than GeneralTalboys. 

And I may as well here declare also that there could be no more virtuouswoman than the general's wife. Her marriage vow was to her paramount toall other vows and bonds whatever. The general's honour was quite safewhen he sent her off to Rome by herself, and he no doubt knew that itwas so. _Illi robur et oes triplex_, of which I believe no weapons ofany assailant could get the better. But nevertheless we used to fancythat she had no repugnance to impropriety in other women--to what theworld generally calls impropriety. Invincibly attached herself tothe marriage tie, she would constantly speak of it as by no meansnecessarily binding on others; and virtuous herself as any griffinof propriety, she constantly patronised, at any rate, the theory ofinfidelity in her neighbours. She was very eager in denouncing theprejudices of the English world, declaring that she found existenceamong them to be no longer possible for herself. She was hot against thestern unforgiveness of British matrons, and equally eager in reprobatingthe stiff conventionalities of a religion in which she said that noneof its votaries had faith, though they all allowed themselves to beenslaved. 

We had at that time a small set at Rome consisting chiefly of Englishand Americans, who habitually met at one another's rooms, and spent manyof our evening hours in discussing Italian politics. We were, mostof us, painters, poets, novelists, or sculptors--perhaps I should saywould-be painters, poets, novelists, and sculptors, aspirants hopingto become some day recognised; and among us Mrs. Talboys took her placenaturally enough on account of a very pretty taste she had for painting. I do not know that she ever originated anything that was grand, but shemade some nice copies and was fond, at any rate, of art conversation. She wrote essays too, which she showed in confidence to variousgentlemen, and had some idea of taking lessons in modelling. 

In all our circle Conrad Mackinnon, an American, was perhaps the personmost qualified to be styled its leader. He was one who absolutely didgain his living, and an ample living too, by his pen, and was regardedon all sides as a literary lion, justified by success in roaring at anytone he might please. His usual roar was not exactly that of a suckingdove or a nightingale, but it was a good-humoured roar, not veryoffensive to any man and apparently acceptable enough to some ladies. Hewas a big, burly man, near to fifty, as I suppose, somewhat awkward inhis gait, and somewhat loud in his laugh. But though nigh to fifty, andthus ungainly, he liked to be smiled on by pretty women, and liked, as some said, to be flattered by them also. If so he should havebeen happy, for the ladies at Rome at that time made much of ConradMackinnon. 

Of Mrs. Mackinnon no one did make very much, and yet she was one of thesweetest, dearest, quietest little creatures that ever made glad aman's fireside. She was exquisitely pretty, always in good humour, never stupid, self-denying to a fault, and yet she was generally inthe background. She would seldom come forward of her own will, but wascontented to sit behind her teapot and hear Mackinnon do his roaring. Hewas certainly much given to what the world at Rome called flirting, butthis did not in the least annoy her. She was twenty years hisjunior, and yet she never flirted with any one. Women would tellher--good-natured friends--how Mackinnon went on, but she received suchtidings as an excellent joke, observing that he had always done thesame, and no doubt always would until he was ninety. I do believe thatshe was a happy woman, and yet I used to think that she should have beenhappier. There is, however, no knowing the inside of another man's houseor reading the riddles of another man's joy and sorrow. 

We had also there another lion, --a lion cub, --entitled to roar a little, and of him also I must say something. Charles O'Brien was a young manabout twenty-five years of age, who had sent out from his studio in thepreceding year a certain bust supposed by his admirers to be unsurpassedby any effort of ancient or modern genius. I am no judge of sculpture, and will not therefore pronounce an opinion, but many who consideredthemselves to be judges declared that it was a "goodish head andshoulders" and nothing more. I merely mention the fact, as it was on thestrength of that head and shoulders that O'Brien separated himself froma throng of others such as himself in Rome, walked solitary during thedays, and threw himself at the feet of various ladies when the days wereover. He had ridden on the shoulders of his bust into a prominent placein our circle, and there encountered much feminine admiration--from Mrs. General Talboys and others. 

Some eighteen or twenty of us used to meet every Sunday evening inMrs. Mackinnon's drawing-room. Many of us, indeed, were in the habitof seeing one another daily and of visiting together the haunts inRome which are best loved by art-loving strangers; but here in thisdrawing-room we were sure to come together, and here before the end ofNovember Mrs. Talboys might always be found, not in any accustomed seat, but moving about the room as the different male mental attractions ofour society might chance to move themselves. She was at first greatlytaken by Mackinnon, who also was, I think, a little stirred by heradmiration, though he stoutly denied the charge. She became, however, very dear to us all before she left us, and certainly we owed to her ourlove, for she added infinitely to the joys of our winter. 

"I have come here to refresh myself, " she said to Mackinnon oneevening--to Mackinnon and myself, for we were standing together. 

"Shall I get you tea?" said I. 

"And will you have something to eat?" Mackinnon asked. 

"No, no, no, " she answered. "Tea, yes; but for heaven's sake let nothingsolid dispel the associations of such a meeting as this!"

"I thought you might have dined early, " said Mackinnon. Now Mackinnonwas a man whose own dinner was very dear to him. I have seen him becomehasty and unpleasant, even under the pillars of the Forum, when hethought that the party were placing his fish in jeopardy by their desireto linger there too long. 

"Early! Yes--no; I know not when it was. One dines and sleeps inobedience to that dull clay which weighs down so generally the particleof our spirit; but the clay may sometimes be forgotten; here I canalways forget it. "

"I thought you asked for refreshment, " I said. She only looked at me, whose small attempts at prose composition had up to that time beenaltogether unsuccessful, and then addressed herself to reply toMackinnon. 

"It is the air which we breathe that fills our lungs and gives uslife and light; it is that which refreshes us if pure or sinks us intostagnation if it be foul. Let me for a while inhale the breath of aninvigorating literature. Sit down, Mr. Mackinnon; I have a question thatI must put to you. " And then she succeeded in carrying him off into acorner. As far as I could see he went willingly enough at that time, though he soon became averse to any long retirement in company with Mrs. Talboys. 

We none of us quite understood what were her exact ideas on the subjectof revealed religion. Somebody, I think, had told her that there wereamong us one or two whose opinions were not exactly orthodox accordingto the doctrines of the established English church. If so she wasdetermined to show us that she also was advanced beyond the prejudicesof an old and dry school of theology. "I have thrown down all thebarriers of religion, " she said to poor Mrs. Mackinnon, "and am lookingfor the sentiments of a pure Christianity. "

"Thrown down all the barriers of religion!" said Mrs. Mackinnon, in atone of horror which was not appreciated. 

"Indeed, yes, " said Mrs. Talboys, with an exulting voice. "Are not thedays for such trammels gone by?"

"But yet you hold by Christianity?"

"A pure Christianity, unstained by blood and perjury, by hypocrisy andverbose genuflection. Can I not worship and say my prayers amongthe clouds?" And she pointed to the lofty ceiling and the handsomechandelier. 

"But Ida goes to church, " said Mrs. Mackinnon. Ida Talboys was herdaughter. Now it may be observed that many who throw down the barriersof religion, so far as those barriers may affect themselves, stillmaintain them on behalf of their children. "Yes, " said Mrs. Talboys;"dear Ida! her soft spirit is not yet adapted to receive the perfecttruth. We are obliged to govern children by the strength of theirprejudices. " And then she moved away, for it was seldom that Mrs. Talboys remained long in conversation with any lady. 

Mackinnon, I believe, soon became tired of her. He liked her flattery, and at first declared that she was clever and nice, but her niceness wastoo purely celestial to satisfy his mundane tastes. Mackinnon himselfcan revel among the clouds in his own writings, and can leave ussometimes in doubt whether he ever means to come back to earth, but whenhis foot is on terra firma he loves to feel the earthy substratum whichsupports his weight. With women he likes a hand that can remain anunnecessary moment within his own, an eye that can glisten with thesparkle of champagne, a heart weak enough to make its owner's armtremble within his own beneath the moonlight gloom of the Colosseumarches. A dash of sentiment the while makes all these things thesweeter, but the sentiment alone will not suffice for him. Mrs. Talboysdid, I believe, drink her glass of champagne, as do other ladies, butwith her it had no such pleasing effect. It loosened only her tongue, but never her eyes. Her arm, I think, never trembled and her hand neverlingered. The general was always safe, and happy perhaps in his solitarysafety. 

It so happened that we had unfortunately among us two artists who hadquarrelled with their wives. O'Brien, whom I have before mentioned, wasone of them. In his case I believe him to have been almost as free fromblame as a man can be whose marriage was in itself a fault. However, hehad a wife in Ireland some ten years older than himself, and though hemight sometimes almost forget the fact, his friends and neighbours werewell aware of it. In the other case the whole fault probably was withthe husband. He was an ill-tempered, bad-hearted man, clever enough, but without principle; and he was continually guilty of the great sinof speaking evil of the woman whose name he should have been anxious toprotect. In both cases our friend, Mrs. Talboys, took a warm interest, and in each of them she sympathised with the present husband against theabsent wife. 

Of the consolation which she offered in the latter instance we used tohear something from Mackinnon. He would repeat to his wife and to meand my wife the conversations which she had with him. "Poor Brown!" shewould say; "I pity him with my very heart's blood. "

"You are aware that he has comforted himself in his desolation, "Mackinnon replied. 

"I know very well to what you allude. I think I may say that Iam conversant with all the circumstances of this heart-blightingsacrifice. " Mrs. Talboys was apt to boast of the thorough confidencereposed in her by all those in whom she took an interest. "Yes, he hassought such comfort in another love as the hard cruel world would allowhim. "

"Or perhaps something more than that, " said Mackinnon. "He has a familyhere in Rome, you know; two little babies. "

"I know it, I know it, " she said; "cherub angels!" And as she spoke shelooked up into the ugly face of Marcus Aurelius, for they were standingat the moment under the figure of the great horseman on the Campidoglio. "I have seen them, and they are children of innocence. If all the bloodof all the Howards ran in their veins it could not make their birth morenoble!"

"Not if the father and mother of all the Howards had never beenmarried, " said Mackinnon. 

"What! that from you, Mr. Mackinnon!" said Mrs. Talboys, turning herback with energy upon the equestrian statue and looking up into thefaces first of Pollux and then of Castor, as though from them she mightgain some inspiration on the subject, which Marcus Aurelius in hiscoldness had denied to her. "From you, who have so nobly claimed formankind the divine attributes of free action! From you, who have taughtmy mind to soar above the petty bonds which one man in his littlenesscontrives for the subjection of his brother. Mackinnon--you who are sogreat!" And she now looked up into his face. "Mackinnon, unsay thosewords. "

"They _are_ illegitimate, " said he, "and if there was any landedproperty--"

"Landed property! and that from an American!"

"The children are English, you know. "

"Landed property! The time will shortly come--ay, and I see itcoming--when that hateful word shall be expunged from the calendar, when landed property shall be no more. What! shall the free soul of aGod-born man submit itself for ever to such trammels as that? Shallwe never escape from the clay which so long has manacled the subtlerparticles of the divine spirit? Ay, yes, Mackinnon!" and then she tookhim by the arm, and led him to the top of the huge steps which lead downfrom the Campidoglio into the streets of modern Rome. "Look down uponthat countless multitude. " Mackinnon looked down, and saw three groupsof French soldiers, with three or four little men in each group; he sawalso a couple of dirty friars, and three priests very slowly beginningthe side ascent to the church of the Ara Coeli. "Look down upon thatcountless multitude, " said Mrs. Talboys, and she stretched her armsout over the half-deserted city. "They are escaping now from thosetrammels--now, now--now that I am speaking. "

"They have escaped long ago from all such trammels as that of landedproperty, " said Mackinnon. 

"Ay, and from all terrestrial bonds, " she continued, notexactly remarking the pith of his last observation; "from bondsquasi-terrestrial and quasi-celestial. The full-formed limbs of thepresent age, running with quick streams of generous blood, will nolonger bear the ligatures which past time have woven for the decrepit. Look down upon that multitude, Mackinnon; they shall all be free. " Andthen, still clutching him by the arm and still standing at the top ofthose stairs, she gave forth her prophecy with the fury of a sibyl. 

"They shall all be free. O Rome, thou eternal one! thou who hast bowedthy neck to imperial pride and priestly craft, thou who has sufferedsorely even to this hour, from Nero down to Pio Nono, the days of thineoppression are over. Gone from thy enfranchised ways for ever is theclang of the praetorian cohorts and the more odious drone of meddlingmonks!" And yet, as Mackinnon observed, there still stood the dirtyfriars and the small French soldiers, and there still toiled the slowpriests, wending their tedious way up to the church of the Ara Coeli. But that was the mundane view of the matter, a view not regarded by Mrs. Talboys in her ecstasy. "O Italia, " she continued, "O Italia una, oneand indivisible in thy rights, and indivisible also in thy wrongs! to usis it given to see the accomplishment of thy glory. A people shall arisearound thine altars greater in the annals of the world than thy Scipios, thy Gracchi, or thy Caesars. Not in torrents of blood or with screamsof bereaved mothers shall thy new triumphs be stained; but mind shalldominate over matter, and, doomed together with popes and Bourbons, withcardinals, diplomatists, and police spies, ignorance and prejudice shallbe driven from thy smiling terraces. And then Rome shall again becomethe fair capital of the fairest region of Europe. Hither shall flock theartisans of the world, crowding into thy marts all that God and man cangive. Wealth, beauty, and innocence shall meet in thy streets--"

"There will be a considerable change before that takes place, " saidMackinnon. 

"There shall be a considerable change, " she answered. "Mackinnon, tothee it is given to read the signs of the time; and hast thou not read?Why have the fields of Magenta and Solferino been piled with the corpsesof dying heroes? Why have the waters of the Mincio run red with theblood of martyrs? That Italy might be united and Rome immortal. Here, standing on the Capitolium of the ancient city, I say that it shall beso; and thou, Mackinnon, who hearest me knowest that my words are true. "

There was not then in Rome--I may almost say there was not in Italy--anEnglishman or an American who did not wish well to the cause for whichItaly was and is still contending, as also there is hardly one who doesnot now regard that cause as well-nigh triumphant; but neverthelessit was almost impossible to sympathise with Mrs. Talboys. As Mackinnonsaid, she flew so high that there was no comfort in flying with her. 

"Well, " said he, "Brown and the rest of them are down below. Shall we goand join them?"

"Poor Brown! How was it that in speaking of his troubles we were led onto this heart-stirring theme? Yes, I have seen them, the sweet angels;and I tell you also that I have seen their mother. I insisted on goingto her when I heard her history from him. "

"And what was she like, Mrs. Talboys?"

"Well, education has done more for some of us than for others, and thereare those from whose morals and sentiments we might thankfully draw alesson, whose manners and outward gestures are not such as custom hasmade agreeable to us. You, I know, can understand that. I have seen her, and feel sure that she is pure in heart and high in principle. Has shenot sacrificed herself, and is not self-sacrifice the surest guaranteefor true nobility of character? Would Mrs. Mackinnon object to mybringing them together?"

Mackinnon was obliged to declare that he thought his wife would object, and from that time forth he and Mrs. Talboys ceased to be very closein their friendship. She still came to the house every Sunday evening, still refreshed herself at the fountains of his literary rills, but herspecial prophecies from henceforth were poured into other ears; and itso happened that O'Brien now became her chief ally. I do not rememberthat she troubled herself much further with the cherub angels or withtheir mother, and I am inclined to think that, taking up warmly as shedid the story of O'Brien's matrimonial wrongs, she forgot the littlehistory of the Browns. Be that as it may, Mrs. Talboys and O'Brien nowbecame strictly confidential, and she would enlarge by the half-hourtogether on the miseries of her friend's position to any one whom shecould get to hear her. 

"I'll tell you what, Fanny, " Mackinnon said to his wife one day--to hiswife and to mine, for we were all together--"we shall have a row inthe house if we don't take care. O'Brien will be making love to Mrs. Talboys. "

"Nonsense, " said Mrs. Mackinnon; "you are always thinking that somebodyis going to make love to some one. "

"Somebody always is, " said he. 

"She's old enough to be his mother, " said Mrs. Mackinnon. 

"What does that matter to an Irishman?" said Mackinnon. "Besides, Idoubt if there is more than five years' difference between them. "

"There must be more than that, " said my wife. "Ida Talboys is twelve, Iknow, and I am not quite sure that Ida is the eldest. "

"If she had a son in the Guards it would make no difference, " saidMackinnon. "There are men who consider themselves bound to make love toa woman under certain circumstances, let the age of the lady be what itmay. O'Brien is such a one; and if she sympathises with him much oftenerhe will mistake the matter and go down on his knees. You ought to puthim on his guard, " he said, addressing himself to his wife. 

"Indeed, I shall do no such thing, " said she; "if they are two foolsthey must, like other fools, pay the price of their folly. " As a rulethere could be no softer creature than Mrs. Mackinnon, but it seemed tome that her tenderness never extended itself in the direction of Mrs. Talboys. 

Just at this time, toward the end, that is, of November, we made aparty to visit the tombs which lie along the Appian Way beyond thatmost beautiful of all sepulchres, the tomb of Cecilia Metella. It was adelicious day, and we had driven along this road for a couple of milesbeyond the walls of the city, enjoying the most lovely view which theneighborhood of Rome affords, looking over the wondrous ruins of the oldaqueducts up toward Tivoli and Palestrina. Of all the environs of Romethis is, on a fair day, the most enchanting; and here perhaps, among aworld of tombs, thoughts and almost memories of the old, old days comeupon one with the greatest force. The grandeur of Rome is best seen andunderstood from beneath the walls of the Colosseum, and its beautyamong the pillars of the Forum and the arches of the Sacred Way; butits history and fall become more palpable to the mind and more clearlyrealised out here among the tombs, where the eyes rest upon themountains, whose shades were cool to the old Romans as to us, thananywhere within the walls of the city. Here we look out at the sameTivoli and the same Praeneste glittering in the sunshine, emboweredamong the far-off valleys, which were dear to them; and the bluemountains have not crumbled away into ruins. Within Rome itself we cansee nothing as they saw it. 

Our party consisted of some dozen or fifteen persons, and, as a hamperwith luncheon in it had been left on the grassy slope at the base ofthe tomb of Cecilia Metella, the expedition had in it something of thenature of a picnic. Mrs. Talboys was of course with us, and Ida Talboys. O'Brien also was there. The hamper had been prepared in Mrs. Mackinnon'sroom under the immediate eye of Mackinnon himself, and they thereforewere regarded as the dominant spirits of the party. My wife was leaguedwith Mrs. Mackinnon, as was usually the case; and there seemed to be ageneral opinion, among those who were closely in confidence together, that something would happen in the O'Brien-Talboys matter. The two hadbeen inseparable on the previous evening, for Mrs. Talboys had beenurging on the young Irishman her counsels respecting his domestictroubles. Sir Cresswell Cresswell, she had told him, was his refuge. "Why should his soul submit to bonds which the world had now declared tobe intolerable? Divorce was not now the privilege of the dissolute rich. Spirits which were incompatible need no longer be compelled to fretbeneath the same couples. " In short, she had recommended him to goto England and get rid of his wife, as she would with a littleencouragement have recommended any man to get rid of anything. I am surethat, had she been skilfully brought on to the subject, she might havebeen induced to pronounce a verdict against such ligatures for the bodyas coats, waistcoats, and trousers. Her aspirations for freedom ignoredall bounds, and in theory there were no barriers which she was notwilling to demolish. 

Poor O'Brien, as we all now began to see, had taken the matter amiss. He had offered to make a bust of Mrs. Talboys, and she had consented, expressing a wish that it might find a place among those who had devotedthemselves to the enfranchisement of their fellow-creatures. I reallythink she had but little of a woman's customary personal vanity. I knowshe had an idea that her eye was lighted up in her warmer moments bysome special fire, that sparks of liberty shone round her brow, and thather bosom heaved with glorious aspirations; but all these feelings hadreference to her inner genius, not to any outward beauty. But O'Brienmisunderstood the woman, and thought it necessary to gaze into her faceand sigh as though his heart were breaking. Indeed, he declared to ayoung friend that Mrs. Talboys was perfect in her style of beauty, andbegan the bust with this idea. It was gradually becoming clear to usall that he would bring himself to grief; but in such a matter who cancaution a man?

Mrs. Mackinnon had contrived to separate them in making the carriagearrangements on this day, but this only added fuel to the fire which wasnow burning within O'Brien's bosom. I believe that he really did loveher in his easy, eager, susceptible Irish way. That he would get overthe little episode without any serious injury to his heart no onedoubted; but then what would occur when the declaration was made? Howwould Mrs. Talboys bear it?

"She deserves it, " said Mrs. Mackinnon. 

"And twice as much, " my wife added. Why is it that women are so spitefulto one another?

Early in the day Mrs. Talboys clambered up to the top of a tomb, andmade a little speech, holding a parasol over her head. Beneath her feet, she said, reposed the ashes of some bloated senator, some glutton ofthe empire, who had swallowed into his maw the provision necessary fora tribe. Old Rome had fallen through such selfishness as that, butnew Rome would not forget the lesson. All this was very well, and thenO'Brien helped her down; but after this there was no separating them. For her own part, she would sooner have had Mackinnon at her elbow; butMackinnon now had found some other elbow. "Enough of that was as goodas a feast, " he had said to his wife. And therefore Mrs. Talboys, quiteunconscious of evil, allowed herself to be engrossed by O'Brien. 

And then, about three o'clock, we returned to the hamper. Luncheon undersuch circumstances always means dinner, and we arranged ourselves for avery comfortable meal. To those who know the tomb of Cecilia Metellano description of the scene is necessary, and to those who do not nodescription will convey a fair idea of its reality. It is itself a largelow tower of great diameter, but of beautiful proportion, standing faroutside the city, close on to the side of the old Roman way. It has beenembattled on the top by some latter-day baron in order that it might beused for protection to the castle which has been built on and attachedto it. If I remember rightly, this was done by one of the Frangipani, and a very lovely ruin he has made of it. I know no castellated oldtumble-down residence in Italy more picturesque than this baronialadjunct to the old Roman tomb, or which better tallies with the ideasengendered within our minds by Mrs. Radcliffe and "The Mysteries ofUdolpho. " It lies along the road, protected on the side of the city bythe proud sepulchre of the Roman matron, and up to the long ruined wallsof the back of the building stretches a grassy slope, at the bottom ofwhich are the remains of an old Roman circus. Beyond that is the long, thin, graceful line of the Claudian aqueduct, with Soracte in thedistance to the left, and Tivoli, Palestrina, and Frascati lying amongthe hills which bound the view. That Frangipani baron was in the rightof it, and I hope he got the value of his money out of the residencewhich he built for himself. I doubt, however, that he did but littlegood to those who lived in his close neighbourhood. 

We had a very comfortable little banquet seated on the broken lumps ofstone which lie about under the walls of the tomb. I wonder whether theshade of Cecilia Metella was looking down upon us. We have heard muchof her in these latter days, and yet we know nothing about her, nor canconceive why she was honoured with a bigger tomb than any other Romanmatron. There were those then among our party who believed that shemight still come back among us, and, with due assistance from somecognate susceptible spirit, explain to us the cause of her widowedhusband's liberality. Alas, alas! if we may judge of the Romans byourselves the true reason for such sepulchral grandeur would redoundlittle to the credit of the lady Cecilia Metella herself or to that ofCrassus, her bereaved and desolate lord. 

She did not come among us on the occasion of this banquet, possiblybecause we had no tables there to turn in preparation for her presence;but had she done so, she could not have been more eloquent of things ofthe other world than was Mrs. Talboys. I have said that Mrs. Talboys'seye never glanced more brightly after a glass of champagne, but I aminclined to think that on this occasion it may have done so. O'Brienenacted Ganymede, and was perhaps more liberal than other latter-dayGanymedes to whose services Mrs. Talboys had been accustomed. Let itnot, however, be suspected by any one that she exceeded the limits of adiscreet joyousness. By no means! The generous wine penetrated, perhaps, to some inner cells of her heart, and brought forth thoughts insparkling words which otherwise might have remained concealed; but therewas nothing in what she thought or spoke calculated to give umbrageeither to an anchoret or to a vestal. A word or two she said or sungabout the flowing bowl, and once she called for Falernian; but beyondthis her converse was chiefly of the rights of man and the weakness ofwomen, of the iron ages that were past, and of the golden time that wasto come. 

She called a toast and drank to the hopes of the latter historians ofthe nineteenth century. Then it was that she bade O'Brien "fill highthe bowl with Samian wine. " The Irishman took her at her word, and sheraised the bumper and waved it over her head before she put it to herlips. I am bound to declare that she did not spill a drop. "The true'Falernian grape, '" she said, as she deposited the empty beaker onthe grass beneath her elbow. Viler champagne I do not think I everswallowed; but it was the theory of the wine, not its palpable bodypresent there, as it were in the flesh, which inspired her. There wasreally something grand about her on that occasion, and her enthusiasmalmost amounted to reality. 

Mackinnon was amused, and encouraged her, as I must confess did I also. Mrs. Mackinnon made useless little signs to her husband, really fearingthat the Falernian would do its good offices too thoroughly. My wife, getting me apart as I walked round the circle distributing viands, remarked that "the woman was a fool and would disgrace herself. " But Iobserved that after the disposal of that bumper she worshipped the rosygod in theory only, and therefore saw no occasion to interfere. "Come, Bacchus, " she said, "and come, Silenus, if thou wilt; I know that yeare hovering round the graves of your departed favourites. And ye, too, nymphs of Egeria, " and she pointed to the classic grove which wasall but close to us as we sat there. "In olden days ye did not alwaysdespise the abodes of men. But why should we invoke the presence of thegods--we who can become godlike ourselves! We ourselves are the deitiesof the present age. For us shall the tables be spread with ambrosia, forus shall the nectar flow. "

Upon the whole it was a very good fooling--for a while; and as soon aswe were tired of it we arose from our seats and began to stroll aboutthe place. It was beginning to be a little dusk and somewhat cool, butthe evening air was pleasant, and the ladies, putting on their shawls, did not seem inclined at once to get into the carriages. At any rate, Mrs. Talboys was not so inclined, for she started down the hill towardthe long low wall of the old Roman circus at the bottom, and O'Brien, close at her elbow, started with her. 

"Ida, my dear, you had better remain here, " she said to her daughter;"you will be tired if you come as far as we are going. "

"Oh no, mamma, I shall not, " said Ida; "you get tired much quicker thanI do. "

"Oh yes, you will; besides, I do not wish you to come. " There was an endof it for Ida, and Mrs. Talboys and O'Brien walked off together, whilewe all looked into one another's faces. 

"It would be a charity to go with them, " said Mackinnon. 

"Do you be charitable then, " said his wife. 

"It should be a lady, " said he. 

"It is a pity that the mother of the spotless cherubim is not here forthe occasion, " said she. "I hardly think that any one less giftedwill undertake such a self-sacrifice. " Any attempt of the kind would, however, now have been too late, for they were already at the bottom ofthe hill. O'Brien had certainly drunk freely of the pernicious contentsof those long-necked bottles, and, though no one could fairly accuse himof being tipsy, nevertheless that which might have made others drunk hadmade him bold, and he dared to do perhaps more than might become a man. If under any circumstances he could be fool enough to make an avowal oflove to Mrs. Talboys he might be expected, as we all thought, to do itnow. 

We watched them as they made for a gap in the wall which led throughinto the large enclosed space of the old circus. It had been an arenafor chariot games, and they had gone down with the avowed purposeof searching where might have been the meta and ascertaining how thedrivers could have turned when at their full speed. For a while we hadheard their voices, or rather her voice especially. "The heart of a man, O'Brien, should suffice for all emergencies, " we had heard her say. Shehad assumed a strange habit of calling men by their simple names, as menaddress one another. When she did this to Mackinnon, who was much olderthan herself, we had been all amused by it, and other ladies of ourparty had taken to call him "Mackinnon" when Mrs. Talboys was not by;but we had felt the comedy to be less safe with O'Brien, especially whenon one occasion we heard him address her as Arabella. She did not seemto be in any way struck by his doing so, and we supposed therefore thatit had become frequent between them. What reply he made at the momentabout the heart of a man I do not know, and then in a few minutes theydisappeared through the gap in the wall. 

None of us followed them, although it would have seemed the most naturalthing in the world to do so had nothing out of the way been expected. Asit was, we remained there round the tomb quizzing the little foibles ofour dear friend and hoping that O'Brien would be quick in what he wasdoing. That he would undoubtedly get a slap in the face, metaphorically, we all felt certain, for none of us doubted the rigid propriety of thelady's intentions. Some of us strolled into the buildings and some of usgot out on to the road, but we all of us were thinking that O'Brienwas very slow a considerable time before we saw Mrs. Talboys reappearthrough the gap. 

At last, however, she was there, and we at once saw that she was alone. She came on, breasting the hill with quick steps, and when she drew nearwe could see that there was a frown as of injured majesty on her brow. Mackinnon and his wife went forward to meet her. If she were really introuble it would be fitting in some way to assist her, and of all womenMrs. Mackinnon was the last to see another woman suffer from ill usagewithout attempting to aid her. "I certainly never liked her, " Mrs. Mackinnon said afterward, "but I was bound to go and hear her tale whenshe really had a tale to tell. "

And Mrs. Talboys now had a tale to tell--if she chose to tell it. Theladies of our party declared afterward that she would have acted morewisely had she kept to herself both O'Brien's words to her and heranswer. "She was well able to take care of herself, " Mrs. Mackinnonsaid; "and after all the silly man had taken an answer when he got it. "Not, however, that O'Brien had taken his answer quite immediately, asfar as I could understand from what we heard of the matter afterward. 

At the present moment Mrs. Talboys came up the rising ground all aloneand at a quick pace. "The man has insulted me, " she said aloud, aswell as her panting breath would allow her, and as soon as she was nearenough to Mrs. Mackinnon to speak to her. 

"I am sorry for that, " said Mrs. Mackinnon. "I suppose he has taken alittle too much wine. "

"No; it was a premeditated insult. The base-hearted churl has failed tounderstand the meaning of true, honest sympathy. "

"He will forget all about it when he is sober, " said Mackinnon, meaningto comfort her. 

"What care I what he remembers or what he forgets?" she said, turningupon poor Mackinnon indignantly. "You men grovel so in your ideas--"("And yet, " as Mackinnon said afterward, "she had been telling me that Iwas a fool for the last three weeks. ") "You men grovel so in your ideasthat you cannot understand the feelings of a true-hearted woman. Whatcan his forgetfulness or his remembrance be to me? Must not I rememberthis insult? Is it possible that I should forget it?"

Mr. And Mrs. Mackinnon only had gone forward to meet her, butnevertheless she spoke so loud that all heard her who were stillclustered round the spot on which we had dined. 

"What has become of Mr. O'Brien?" a lady whispered to me. 

I had a field-glass with me, and, looking round, I saw his hat as he waswalking inside the walls of the circus in the direction toward the city. "And very foolish he must feel, " said the lady. 

"No doubt he is used to it, " said another. 

"But considering her age, you know, " said the first, who might have beenperhaps three years younger than Mrs. Talboys, and who was not herselfaverse to the excitement of a moderate flirtation. But then why shouldshe have been averse, seeing that she had not as yet become subject tothe will of any imperial lord?

"He would have felt much more foolish, " said the third, "if she hadlistened to what he said to her. "

"Well, I don't know, " said the second; "nobody would have known anythingabout it then, and in a few weeks they would have gradually become tiredof each other in the ordinary way. "

But in the meantime Mrs. Talboys was among us. There had been no attemptat secrecy, and she was still loudly inveighing against the grovellingpropensities of men. "That's quite true, Mrs. Talboys, " said one of theelder ladies; "but then women are not always so careful as they shouldbe. Of course I do not mean to say that there has been any fault on yourpart. "

"Fault on my part! Of course there has been fault on my part. No one canmake any mistake without fault to some extent. I took him to be a man ofsense, and he is a fool. Go to Naples indeed. "

"Did he want you to go to Naples?" asked Mrs. Mackinnon. 

"Yes; that was what he suggested. We were to leave by the train forCivita Vecchia at six to-morrow morning, and catch the steamer whichleaves Leghorn to-night. Don't tell me of wine. He was prepared for it!"And she looked round about on us with an air of injured majesty in herface which was almost insupportable. 

"I wonder whether he took the tickets overnight, " said Mackinnon. 

"Naples!" she said, as though now speaking exclusively to herself, "theonly ground in Italy which has as yet made no struggle on behalf offreedom--a fitting residence for such a dastard!"

"You would have found it very pleasant at this season, " said theunmarried lady who was three years her junior. 

My wife had taken Ida out of the way when the first complaining notefrom Mrs. Talboys had been heard ascending the hill. But now, whenmatters began gradually to become quiescent, she brought her back, suggesting as she did so that they might begin to think of returning. 

"It is getting very cold, Ida dear, is it not?" said she. 

"But where is Mr. O'Brien?" said Ida. 

"He has fled--as poltroons always fly, " said Mrs. Talboys. I believein my heart that she would have been glad to have had him there in themiddle of the circle, and to have triumphed over him publicly among usall. No feeling of shame would have kept her silent for a moment. 

"Fled!" said Ida, looking up into her mother's face. 

"Yes, fled, my child. " And she seized her daughter in her arms, andpressed her closely to her bosom. "Cowards always fly. "

"Is Mr. O'Brien a coward?" Ida asked. 

"Yes, a coward, a very coward! And he has fled before the glance of anhonest woman's eye. Come, Mrs. Mackinnon, shall we go back to the city?I am sorry that the amusement of the day should have received thischeck. " And she walked forward to the carriage and took her place in itwith an air that showed that she was proud of the way in which she hadconducted herself. 

"She is a little conceited about it after all, " said that unmarriedlady. "If poor Mr. O'Brien had not shown so much premature anxietywith reference to that little journey to Naples, things might have gonequietly after all. "

But the unmarried lady was wrong in her judgment. Mrs. Talboys wasproud and conceited in the matter, but not proud of having excitedthe admiration of her Irish lover. She was proud of her own subsequentconduct, and gave herself credit for coming out strongly as thenoble-minded matron. "I believe she thinks, " said Mrs. Mackinnon, "thather virtue is quite Spartan and unique; and if she remains in Romeshe'll boast of it through the whole winter. "

"If she does, she may be certain that O'Brien will do the same, " saidMackinnon. "And in spite of his having fled from the field, it isupon the cards that he may get the best of it. Mrs. Talboys is a veryexcellent woman. She has proved her excellence beyond a doubt. Butnevertheless she is susceptible of ridicule. "

We all felt a little anxiety to hear O'Brien's account of the matter, and after having deposited the ladies at their homes Mackinnon and Iwent off to his lodgings. At first he was denied to us, but after awhile we got his servant to acknowledge that he was at home, and then wemade our way up to his studio. We found him seated behind a half-formedmodel, or rather a mere lump of clay punched into something resemblingthe shape of a head, with a pipe in his mouth and a bit of stick in hishand. He was pretending to work, though we both knew that it was out ofthe question that he should do anything in his present frame of mind. 

"I think I heard my servant tell you that I was not at home, " said he. 

"Yes, he did, " said Mackinnon, "and would have sworn it too if we wouldhave let him. Come, don't pretend to be surly. "

"I am very busy, Mr. Mackinnon. "

"Completing your head of Mrs. Talboys, I suppose, before you start forNaples. "

"You don't mean to say that she has told you all about it?" And heturned away from his work, and looked up into our faces with a comicalexpression, half of fun and half of despair. 

"Every word of it, " said I. "When you want a lady to travel with younever ask her to get up so early in winter. "

"But, O'Brien, how could you be such an ass?" said Mackinnon. "As ithas turned out, there is no very great harm done. You have insulted arespectable middle-aged woman, the mother of a family and the wife of ageneral officer, and there is an end of it--unless, indeed, the generalofficer should come out from England to call you to account. "

"He is welcome, " said O'Brien haughtily. 

"No doubt, my dear fellow, " said Mackinnon; "that would be a dignifiedand pleasant ending to the affair. But what I want to know is this: whatwould you have done if she had agreed to go?"

"He never calculated on the possibility of such a contingency, " said I. 

"By heavens, then, I thought she would like it, " said he. 

"And to oblige her you were content to sacrifice yourself, " saidMackinnon. 

"Well, that was just it. What the deuce is a fellow to do when a womangoes on in that way? She told me down there, upon the old race-course, you know, that matrimonial bonds were made for fools and slaves. Whatwas I to suppose that she meant by that? But, to make all sure, I askedher what sort of a fellow the general was. 'Dear old man, ' she said, clasping her hands together. 'He might, you know, have been my father. ''I wish he were, ' said I, 'because then you'd be free. ' 'I am free, 'said she, stamping on the ground, and looking up at me so much as to saythat she cared for no one. 'Then, ' said I, 'accept all that is left ofthe heart of Wenceslaus O'Brien, ' and I threw myself before her in herpath. 'Hand, ' said I, 'I have none to give, but the blood which runs redthrough my veins is descended from a double line of kings. ' I said thatbecause she is always fond of riding a high horse. I had gotten closeunder the wall so that none of you should see me from the tower. "

"And what answer did she make?" said Mackinnon. 

"Why, she was pleased as Punch--gave me both her hands and declaredthat we would be friends for ever. It is my belief, Mackinnon, that thatwoman never heard anything of the kind before. The general, no doubt, did it by letter. "

"And how was it that she changed her mind?"

"Why, I got up, put my arm round her waist, and told her that we wouldbe off to Naples. I'm blessed if she didn't give me a knock in theribs that nearly sent me backward. She took my breath away, so that Icouldn't speak to her. "

"And then----"

"Oh, there was nothing more. Of course I saw how it was. So she walkedoff one way and I the other. On the whole, I consider that I am well outof it. "

"And so do I, " said Mackinnon, very gravely. "But if you will allow meto give you my advice, I would suggest that it would be well to avoidsuch mistakes in future. "

"Upon my word, " said O'Brien, excusing himself, "I don't know what a manis to do under such circumstances. I give you my honour that I did itall to oblige her. "

We then decided that Mackinnon should convey to the injured lady thehumble apology of her late admirer. It was settled that no detailedexcuses should be made. It should be left to her to consider whether thedeed which had been done might have been occasioned by wine or by thefolly of a moment, or by her own indiscreet enthusiasm. No one butthe two were present when the message was given, and therefore we wereobliged to trust to Mackinnon's accuracy for an account of it. 

She stood on very high ground indeed, he said, at first refusing to hearanything that he had to say on the matter. The foolish young man, shedeclared, was below her anger and below her contempt. 

"He is not the first Irishman that has been made indiscreet by beauty, "said Mackinnon. 

"A truce to that, " she replied, waving her hand with an air of assumedmajesty. "The incident, contemptible as it is, has been unpleasant tome. It will necessitate my withdrawal from Rome. "

"Oh no, Mrs. Talboys; that will be making too much of him. "

"The greatest hero that lives, " she answered, "may have his house madeuninhabitable by a very small insect. " Mackinnon swore that those wereher own words. Consequently a sobriquet was attached to O'Brien of whichhe by no means approved, and from that day we always called Mrs. Talboys"the hero. "

Mackinnon prevailed at last with her, and she did not leave Rome. Shewas even induced to send a message to O'Brien conveying her forgiveness. They shook hands together with great eclat in Mrs. Mackinnon'sdrawing-room; but I do not suppose that she ever again offered to himsympathy on the score of his matrimonial troubles.