THE DUKE'S PRIZE. 

A STORY OF ART AND HEART IN FLORENCE. 

BY LIEUTENANT MURRAY. 

NEW YORK:

PREFACE. 

THE scenes of the following story are laid in Italy, that land ofthe sun. They are designed to impress a goodly moral, as well as toamuse the reader--to show that patience and perseverance will conquerall things--and that a poor coat may cover a rich heart. The readerwill find also herein, that love raises the humblest; and that truemerit, like true genius, tramples upon misfortunes; and that "somefalls are means the happier to rise. "

THE DUKE'S PRIZE. 

CHAPTER I. 

FLORENCE. 

Lend thy serious hearing to what I shall unfold. 

-Hamlet. 

COME with me, gentle reader, on the wings of fancy into the mild andgenial latitude of the Tyrrhenian Sea. The delightful region of theMediterranean has been the poet's ready theme for ages; then let usthitherward, with high hopes (and appreciating eyes) to enjoy thestoried scenery of its shores. Touch, if you will, at Gibraltar; seehow the tide flows through the straits! We go in with a flowingsail, and now we are at Corsica, Napoleon's home. Let us stop atSardinia, with its wealth of tropical fruits; and we will even downto Sicily, --for this mimic ocean teems with subjects to delight theeye even of the most casual observer, with its majestic boundary ofAlps and Apennines, and the velvet carpet of its romantic shores, while its broad breast is dotted with the sails of the picturesquecraft whose rig is peculiar to these seas. 

It were worth the journey we have taken, if only to behold thecurious maritime scene before us now-made up of the felucca, thepolacre, and the bombard, or ketch all equally unknown in our ownwaters. 

Well, on with us still; let us up again and new through the canal ofPiombino, touching at the isle of Elba, the "Great Emperor's" mimicdomain; step into the town lying beneath this rocky bluff; which iscrowned by a fort-it is Porto Ferrajo. Look off for a moment fromthis rocky eminence, back of the town, and see the wild beauty ofthese Tuscan mountains on the main land. Now, we will over to theItalian coast, and cross, if you will, from Leghorn to Florence. There, we are now in the very lap of genius and of poetry; let uspause here and breathe the dreamy, soothing, balmy air of Italy. 

Florence, most favored daughter of Italy, sweet, sunny Florence, where dwelleth the gallantry and beauty of Tuscany, with thy wealthof architectural beauty, thy magnificent churches and palaces, thyprincely court and hoarded beauties-favorite of that genial land, wegreet thee! How peacefully dost thou lay at the very foot of thecloud-topped Apennines, divided by the mountain-born Arno in itscourse to the sea, and over whose bosom the architectural genius ofthe land is displayed in arched bridges; loveliest and best belovedart thou of sunny, vine-clad Italy. 

The poetical luxury of Italian genius is nowhere more plainlymanifested than in Florence. 'Tis the artist's favorite resort andbest school; 'tis the city the traveller likes least to turn hisback upon; and the spot being consecrated by poetry and art, wherethe blood flows quickest through the veins, warmed by a fervid andglowing clime. A clime which breathes in zephyrs of aromaticsweetness, wafted over the fragrant blossoms of the land so redolentof loveliness, that they would seem to rival the fabled Loto tree, which springs by Allah's throne, and whose flowers have a soul inevery leaf. 

There is a breathing of the arts in the very air of Florence, whosegalleries are crowded with the choicest collections of paintings andstatuary in the world. Here have ever congregated the talent andbeauty of every clime. With the painter, the poet, the sculptor, here sleep, in the city of the silent, Michael Angelo, Alfieri, andlike spirits, rendering it hallowed ground to the lovers of art. Proud and lovely city, with thy sylvan Casino spreading its richesof green sward and noble trees along the banks of the silvery Arno, well may a Florentine be proud of his birthplace!

It is in Florence, this very paradise of art, that our tale opens. Here the poor scholar or artist, who seeks to perfect himself byviewing the glorious works of the old masters, may live like aprince on the most moderate and frugal means, in a bright and sunnyland, where the heart's blood leaps most swiftly to the promptingsof imagination; where the female form earliest attains its wontedbeauty, and longest holds its sway over the heart; where art andnature both combine to entrance the soul in admiration; in that landof the sun-genial Italy; that soft, yet wild country, whose childrenlearn the knowledge of poetry and art from visible things, while therest of the world derive them from books. 

It was noonday in Florence, and a group of artists were wendingtheir way from the grand gallery to their midday meal. It was amotley sight to look upon them as they gaily chatted together-foramong them were men of different countries. There was the rough, hearty Englishman, the light, witty Frenchman, the intelligent andmanly-looking American, the dark, swarthy Spaniard side by side withthe dark Italian-fit companions, both in outward hue and their nativecharacter-and many others, forming a group of peculiar interest tothe beholder. 

As the troop emerged from a narrow street and came full upon thebright and sunny piazza, near the splendid shaft of the Campanile, the gorgeous equipage of the Grand Duke was passing the spot. Themonarch was returning from a morning drive in the Casino with asmall retinue, and accompanied by one or two strangers ofdistinction. The group paused for a moment to witness the passing ofthe duke and his suite, and then turned gaily towards their hotel todine, the duke forming a new theme of conversation to those who, conversing under the disadvantage of but partially understandingeach other, from the variety of tongues among them, ever chose themost visible subject for comment. 

"What a brilliant turn-out, " said one, in honest admiration. 

"Those leaders are as proud as their master, " said another. 

"But he becomes his state well, if he is proud, " answered a third. 

"Newman couldn't get up a better four in hand, " said the firstspeaker, a young Londoner. 

"Who is that by the side of the duke?" asked one. 

"The English consul, " replied his countryman; "you ought to knowhim. "

"The whole affair now is wanting to my eye, " said a young, sentimental artist. 

"And what does it want, pray, Mister Critic?" asked the Englishman. 

"A woman. "

"Egad, that's true! There should be a woman in the picture, if itwas to be painted, if only to introduce color. "

"Don't be so mercenary, " added the other. 

And the group thus idly conversing lounged on their way to dine. Butsee, one of their number still lingers near the base of the shaft, apparently absorbed in admiring its beautiful proportions; his palebut fine intellectual features overspread by a spirit of admirationas he beholds the column. But still there is some other motive thanmere curiosity that engages him thus; he seems to have thusdesignedly dropped the company of the party he was just with. Nowsuddenly turning and satisfying himself that his late companionswere out of sight, the young artist-for so his appearance evidentlybespoke him-slowly and sadly retraced his steps toward the grandgallery. 

The expression of his countenance was that of suffering and physicalpain, as well as of mental inquietude; but his late companions hadnone of them noticed or cared for this. They could take especialcognizance of the points of excellence in the duke's horses, but notof the grief that shaded a fellow-being's countenance. No, thesingle artist, who now retraced his steps from the base of theCampanile, let his cause for sadness arise from whatever source itmight, was alone in his sufferings, and without any one to share hissorrows. 

Once or twice he seemed to hesitate and half turn round again, as ifto join the party he had left; but some inward prompting appeared toprevent him from doing so, and once more he walked on by the samestreet which he had just came. A sigh now and then heaved hisbreast, as though some mental or physical suffering moved him, buthis form was erect, and his step not that of one weakened byphysical disease. And yet in looking upon him, an instinctive desirewould have possessed the careful observer to offer him aid in someform. 

CHAPTER II. 

OUR HERO AND HEROINE. 

But love is blind, and lovers cannot see. 

-Merchant of Venice. 

AT the close of a long summer's day under the skies of Italy, theshades of twilight were deepening on a verdant and vine-cladhillside of the Val d'Arno, when two lovers, who had evidently beenstrolling together, sat down side by side under a natural trellis ofvines. The twilight hour of midsummer will lend enchantment toalmost any scene; but this is peculiarly the case in Italy, whereevery shadow seems poetic-every view fit for the painter's canvass. 

The gentleman was of frank and manly bearing, and as he hadapproached the spot where they now sat, with the graceful figure ofhis fair companion leaning upon his arm, he evinced that soft andpersuasive mien, that easy elegance of manner and polish in hisaddress, which travel and good society can alone impart. Around hisnoble forehead, now bared to the gentle breeze, his long auburn hairhung in waving ringlets, after the style of the period, while hiscountenance was of that intelligent and thoughtful cast, tinted by ashade of sorrow, which rarely fails to captivate the eye. 

In person, he was rather tall, erect and well-proportioned, thoughperhaps he was rather thin in flesh to appear to so good advantageas he might have done, yet altogether he was of handsome form andpleasant mien. His dress bespoke the hollowness of his purse, notwithstanding he bore about him the indelible marks of agentleman; and the careful observer would have recognized in him theartist that had separated from his companions on the Plaza atnoonday near the shaft of the Campanile. 

His companion was manifestly a lady of rank and a most lovelyfemale, satisfying the eye at the first glance, and constantlypleasing the longer it dwelt upon her. When we describe an Italianlady as being beautiful, she must be so indeed; for there is no halfway between beauty and the opposite extreme here. There are but fewreally handsome women in Tuscany, but these few are of a class ofbeauty that may well have ravished the rest of their sex in thisfair clime. Her countenance was radiant with thought and feeling, and her large and dewy eyes of blue--nature's own sweet tint--restedfondly on him by her side. 

Her rich and abundant dark hair was parted smoothly across herunblemished forehead, which might have been marble, so smooth andpure, but for the warm blood that flowed through those delicate bluechannels. The mouth and features were of the Grecian model, and whenshe smiled she showed a ravishing sweetness of expression, and teeththat rivalled those of an Indian. In form, her person was slightlyvoluptuous, though strictly within the most true female delicacy. Such is a sketch of the two whom we at the outset denominated aslovers; and such they were, as the progress of our story willdisclose. 

"There is much between thee and me, Florinda, " said her companion, sighing heavily; "and of a metal worse than all others-pride andgold! jailors both of the daring heart!"

"Nay, dear Carlton, thou art ever foreboding ills, " said the ladypersuasively, and in a voice as sweet as that of the idolized PagodaThrush of India. 

"Perhaps so; and yet full well I know that I am no favorite offortune, by stern experience. "

"She will smile on thee yet, believe me, Carlton; and the moresweetly for this seeming neglect. She's a fickle goddess, and oftenplays the coquette, but, like others of this class, she seldomchides but she smiles again the more winningly. "

"She has already done so through thee, Florinda. "

Florinda answered with her eyes. 

"Ah, I am blessed indeed in thee; and poorly do I appreciate theblessing of thy love, when I forget myself and complain. "

"Now thou art content. "

"In thy smiles, dearest, ever. "

And Carlton pressed the hand with fervor to his lip that wassmilingly extended towards him. 

"Ah, how long it may be, before I can call this little hand mine. "

"It is thine already, Carlton. "

"Thy heart is, I trust; but the hand, Florinda, is quite anotherthing. "

"True, Carlton. "

"My means are so humble. "

"You would make them so. "

"But are they not, Florinda?"

"Not in my eyes. "

"The future looks dark to me. "

"The great proficiency you have attained in your profession, as anartist, dear Carlton, argues well for our hopes. Already has thyname reached the Grand Duke as one of remarkable ability in thynoble art; and such constant attention and unwearied industry mustensure improvement. "

"True, dearest, I may in time hope to be counted, a worthy followerof those whose noble efforts grace the grand gallery, and the hallsof the Palazzo Pitti; but alas, many years of toil might not placeme in the pecuniary eye of the duke, as a fitting suitor for thypeerless portion. And then, Florinda, the pride of birth! Alas! Ihave little hopes of ever attaining my most earnest wish-that whichwould render me the envy of all Florence-thy hand, Florinda. "

"Have I not possessions enough for both of us, dear Carlton? Indeed, I am told that my rightful property bears a goodly proportion tothat of the Grand Duke himself, who has the reputation here inFlorence of possessing unbounded wealth-actually unequalled inamount by that of any European monarch. Until the prospect of aidingyou by this amplitude of fortune occurred to my mind, I saw no valuein this boasted wealth; but now that I know that you will bebenefited by it, Carlton, I rejoice at its possession and itsmagnitude. "

"Dearest, " said the artist, as he listened to her generousdeclaration. 

"There will be no want, no question of necessity; all shall beyours. "

"In your love and kindness of heart, you do not consider thesethings as does the world, Florinda. The greater the amount of thyriches, the farther art thou removed from me; thus reasoneth theworld-the cold and calculating world. "

"Nay, Carlton, thou art again foreboding, " said the lady in thesweet, honeyed tongue of her land. "All will yet be as our heartscould wish, I am confident. "

"Love sees with blind eyes, dearest. "

"I know the proverb; but each case is a peculiar one, and this-isnot this more so than any other?"

"So thy gentle heart would make it, " he answered tenderly. 

"And will not yours assent?"

"In one respect-yes. "

"And that is--"

"Never was one so loved as thou art; and yet who could look uponthose eyes, and hear thee speak thus, and know the goodness andgentleness of thy kind heart, and not love thee, Florinda?"

"Ah, flatterer!"

"Dost thou mean that?" said Carlton, earnestly and quickly. 

"Nay, forgive me, Carlton, " said his fair companion. 

"Always but when thou shalt question my sincerity; and yet, " hecontinued, after a moment's pause, "there are ample grounds for suchsuspicions. "

"Say not so, Carlton. "

"Behold thy large fortune; am I not penniless?-thy noble birth; am Inot an humble citizen? O, Florinda, there are few in this cold andmercenary world that would accord to me, under these circumstances, the meed of sincerity. "

"There is one who will never doubt thee, " said the lovely girl, placing a hand affectionately within his. 

"Dear Florinda, I have thought of another tie to bind us to eachother still more dearly, if possible. "

"Pray, what is that, Carlton?"

"We are both orphans, Florinda; both stand, as it were, alone in theworld, without any natural protectors even from childhood. "

"True, " said Florinda, "my parents died while I was yet too young toknow or love them and thine, Carlton?"

"While I was an infant. "

"How pleasant it must be to have parents to love and advise one. Ihave often envied my companions. "

"Ay, it must indeed be a source of happiness; and none would seem todeserve them more than so gentle a spirit as thine. "

"It is indeed an enviable blessing. "

"Father and mother are sweet words, " said the artist, thoughtfully, --and drawing her gently to his side. 

"They are sweet words, " said Florinda; while a sympathetic teartrembled for a moment beneath those long eyelashes, proving thepoet's words, "that beauty's tears are lovelier than her smiles. "Carlton saw and marked the truant jewel as it glided down her faircheek. 

And thus they talked on of love, of griefs and hopes, Carltonpressing the hand of his lovely companion affectionately to his lipsat times, with a gentle and affectionate tenderness far moreeloquent than words; while the response that met this token from herexpressive face might have told the most casual observer how dearlyand how deeply she loved the young artist, and how the simplesttoken of tenderness from him was cherished by her. 

La Signora Florinda was a grand-daughter of the house of Carrati, one of the oldest and proudest of all Italy. Having been placed in aconvent in the environs of Florence for her education, the GrandDuke by chance met her while quite young, and learning her name, heat once knew her to be an orphan, and now under the care of heruncle Signor Latrezzi. By his own request he became her guardian, and from that time Florinda became an inmate of the palace of theduke, and the constant companion of the duchess. 

Her parents deceased, as the reader has already gathered, while shewas yet a child, leaving her an immense property, which was now inthe hands of her protector, the monarch himself. About the time, orrather some months previous to the commencement, of our tale, theduchess had died of consumption. Florinda for more than a year hadbeen her intimate and dearly loved companion, and for this reasonalone was dearly prized by the Grand Duke, who still sincerelymourned his wife's death. 

The deep devotion and constancy of this monarch, Leopold of Tuscany, to his wife, evinced an affection rarely found in marriages ofstate. Inconsolable for her death, he shut himself from the worldfor a long time, weeping in secret the affliction he had sustainedin her loss. To this day there ornaments the private apartments ofthe Pitti Palace busts of the grand duchess, and portraits of her bythe first artists; on the walls of the duke's private study there isa full length portrait of his wife done in fresco, representing herto be what she really was, a noble and lovely woman. 

Since the death of the duchess, Florinda had experienced, as we haveintimated, an increased degree of fatherly care and affection fromthe duke, because of the fact of her intimacy with her whom he hadnow lost. The duchess, during the period that Florinda had been withher, had contracted for her a tender affection, and did not forgetin the trying moments of her last hours to commend her to thecontinued and true guidance of the duke. This circumstance of courserendered her an object of renewed interest and regard in the eyes ofher noble protector, with whom she dwelt as though she had been hisown well-beloved child. 

In addition to this, she presented claims to his kind protection, from the fact that she was an orphan, the last of a proud and noblehouse long attached to the service of the crown-a fact that had inthe first place attracted his interest. 

"Come, Carlton, " said the lady, with a sweet smile, "now tell me oneof those Rhine legends which you relate with such spirit. Youpromised me another. "

"I will, dearest, " was the reply; and her companion, drawing stillcloser to her side, began as the next chapter will relate. 

CHAPTER III. 

A RHINE LEGEND. 

An honest tale speeds best being plainly told. 

-King Richard III. 

"THE valley of the Rhine, " commenced Carlton, "is no more famous forits classic beauty than for the romance of its historic story; andthe traveller is sure, while his eyes drink in of the beauty of itsscenery, to have his ears regaled with the tragic record of itsneighborhood. The name of Petard-the name of as bold a bandit asever led a company of mountain-robbers--has become classic as anyhistoric name of the Germanic confederacy, or the Italian states, byreason of the influence he exerted, the boldness of his deeds, theoftentimes chivalric character of his conduct; but, above all, forhis singular personal bravery, and his remarkable prowess in battle. Only second, as it regarded the extent of his fame, to the renownedSchinderhannes, he even exceeded that bold and romantic bandit inthe general character of his purposes, and the extraordinary successthat attended his plans of operation. 

"Petard held one of those lofty mountain-passes, " continued Carlton, "that lead from the valley of the Rhine, and through which at timesmuch travel passed. Here he had so thoroughly entrenched himself, with his band of some sixty bravadoes, at the time of our story, that ten and twenty times his own force sent against him, in theshape of the regular government troops, had utterly failed to reacheven the outer walls of his retreat, they being entrapped in allmanner of snares, and shot down like a herd of wild and distractedanimals. Several repetitions of these attempts with similar resultshad fairly disheartened the officers and soldiery, and they utterlyrefused to proceed on any such dangerous service for the future, while the officers of the government in their weakness were quitepowerless. So that Petard remained virtually the master of thedistrict, and levied such tax as he pleased upon such of the betterclasses as he could arrest upon the road. 

"The story of Petard's generous charity to the peasantry ispreserved and related to the traveller by the grateful people; andthere is no doubt that, springing from this class, he felt asympathy for them that induced this honest generosity towards themon his part. The cunning plans which he and his band adopted toobtain the necessary information for the prosecution of theirdesigns, it would be tedious to relate. The peasantry, everoppressed by those in authority, were, of course, most faithful tothe interests of this famous outlaw, to whose open hand they oftencame for bread, and who was ever ready to aid them. Thus, no briberynor offered rewards could induce one of these rough but true-heartedmountaineers to betray Petard, or disclose the secret paths that ledto his lofty stronghold. 

"Cunning beyond what usually falls to the lot of roguery, " continuedCarlton, "Petard delighted in outwitting his enemies of the law, andin leading those whom he desired to fleece into his net. Thuspractised in intrigue, he plumed himself in detecting any trick thatwas attempted against him; and thus on the constant qui vive, he wasenabled to avoid detection and arrest. Every effort, howeveringenious, that the officers of the government made, was thereforefutile and of no advantage; and Petard was still regarded as masterof his mountain home, and leader of as brave a band as ever beset atraveller's carriage, or broke the ranks of a treasury escort. 

"Those were wild and lawless times when the feudal spirit and powerhad not yet lost all its sway, and when each man's house was oftenmade to be his castle, and himself called upon to defend it with hislife. Might made right; the strong hand often carried it against thelaw, and justice often, slept. It sounds like romance indeed todepict those times. "

"It does, indeed, " said Florinda; "but go on, Carlton, do notinterrupt the story. "

"On the left bank of the noble river, in whose valley this story islaid, " said Carlton, "rose the turrets and towers of Botztetzcastle, the remains only of one of the fine old strongholds of themiddle ages, which had by degrees descended through generations, until it was now the home of a rich, retired merchant from Coblentz, who was repairing it and removing the rubbish that age had collectedabout it. Himself a man of distinguished family, Karl Etzwell hadretired from the bustle of his heavy business, purchased this place, and proposed here to make himself home, and here to die. The oldmerchant had an only child whom he idolized, and for whom alone heseemed to live since his wife and other children had died. 

"Bettina was one of those delicate, lovely-featured children ofgrace and beauty that would have been chosen in "Merrie England" topreside over a tournament, as queen of beauty, in Ivanhoe's time. Born to bloom in a peculiar period of history, her character partookin some measure of the characteristics of the times. To our age, Florinda, and our appreciation, this lovely woman would have seemedrather Amazonian. She rode her fine and dashing horse with a freerein, and in the vigor of her robust health she could walk formiles, if need be. Yet still Bettina lacked not for tenderness andgentleness of spirit. She loved her father, was fond of music, andsung most sweetly to her own accompaniment upon the guitar. 

"Egbert Hosfeldt was the descendant of a proud line of ancestors, and was himself now left alone of all his family. His castle was onthe opposite side of the Rhine, and ere Karl Etzwell's daughter hadbeen a twelvemonth at her father's new home among the nowhalf-restored towers of Botztetz Castle, Egbert Hosfeldt and Bettinawere the most tender friends. His boat was ever on the left shore atnightfall, though his castle was on the right. No carpet knight washe, Florinda; he pulled his own oar. He was as stout of limb as ofheart, and yet was as gentle when by Bettina's side as the tamedoves she fondled. His was indeed a knightly figure to look upon. Hehad often distinguished himself upon the tented field, and in theforest sports. He lived in an age when personal prowess was highlyesteemed, and when those high in birth failed not to mature thestrong muscles and stout limbs which Providence had vouchsafed tothem. 

"My story, Florinda, opens upon one of those soft summer twilightswhich hang over this incomparable valley to-day, as they didcenturies gone by. Two figures rested near a soft bed of flowers inthe broad grounds of Botztez Castle. The luxuriant, curling hair ofdelicate auburn that strayed so freely over the neck and shouldersof the female figure, betrayed her to be the lovely daughter of HerrKarl Etzwell; while the reader would have recognized at once in theperson by her side, the fine athletic figure of Egbert. They sat intender proximity to each other, and Bettina was listening toEgbert's eloquent story of the olden times, and of the manychivalric deeds for which the neighborhood of this spot wascelebrated. He told her, too, of legends connected with the verytowers and battlements that now surrounded them, until at last thelateness of the hour warned them that they must part; and thegallant Egbert, pressing her hand tenderly to his lips, bade her abrief farewell as he said, and would meet her there again with thetwilight hour on the following day. 

"Scarcely had he left her side when a decrepit figure, dressed in asshabby garb as ever clothed a beggar woman, tottled towards her, andin saddest tones besought the fair girl to come a few steps from thecastle walls to aid her in carrying her sick infant, who she fearedwas dying. The chords of tender sympathy were at once touched andBettina followed the old woman outside the walls, and beyond anangle of the ruins a few rods, when the person who had so excitedher commiseration suddenly stopped, and tossing off the wretchedrags he wore, he stood before her the athletic leader of banditti, Petard!"

"How frightful!" said Florinda, interrupting him. 

"The faint scream Bettina uttered, " continued Carlton, "wassmothered by his ready adroitness; and seizing the fainting girl, asthough she was an infant, the robber bore her away to a spotconcealed by the darkness, where several of his confederates methim, as had been preconcerted; and in a few minutes after Egbert hadleft her side, Bettina, all unconscious, was being carried fair awayto the almost impregnable stronghold of the robbers. 

"It would be vain to attempt a description of the consternation andmisery of her father when it was found that his child-she who waseverything to him; whom he loved better than life itself-was lost. Whither to seek her no one knew. The most improbable places weresearched. Egbert, who was last seen with her, was sent for; but hecould give them no information. He supposed, of course, that shereturned directly home after he parted with her. Every conceivablemeans were adopted to discover some trace of the missing girl, butall in vain, and the most tantalizing anguish took possession ofevery bosom. Two days had passed in this fruitless and agonizingsearch, when a note was delivered at the castle which threw lightupon her disappearance. The purport of the note was to this effect:

"KARL ETZWELL:-Your daughter is safe in my possession. Her simplestwish is strictly regarded. No harm will come to her, provided youpay the ransom of one thousand marks of gold. You may not possessthe ready means, rich as you are, to produce this sum at once;therefore it may be paid in four instalments, and in four months oftime, if you can do no better. Red When the sum shall be paid, yourdaughter will be restored to you as pure and unharmed as when sheleft you. You have two days to think upon this. My messenger willthen see you, and receive the first instalment of the money. Thosewho know me will tell you that you had better not harm one hair ofthat messenger's head, but your best course will be to meet thisdemand. 'Signed, ' PETARD. 

"The mystery was solved, and the father knew that the robber, vileas he was, would keep his word; that though Bettina was thusfearfully situated, Petard would protect and restore her, if heacceded to his demand. The sum named was far beyond his means toraise before the expiration of a considerable period of time; forthough, as the robber chief denominated him, rich, yet the princelysum of money demanded could hardly have been raised at once, had theunited interest of the country for miles round been brought to bearupon it. 

"After consulting with Egbert and other friends, the father saw thatthere was but one course left for him to pursue under thecircumstances of the case, and that was to comply with the demand asfar as was possible, and to get ready the first instalment of themoney for the following day. It would have been madness for him-hisdaughter's safety, of course, being paramount to every other idea-tohave called upon the authorities to serve him. They had already, aswe have before stated, often failed in their efforts upon therobber; and to incense Petard against him, was for the father tosacrifice the life of his child. Thus influenced, the sum of moneydemanded as the first instalment was made up by the assistance ofEgbert and others, and was quietly paid over to the robbermessenger, by the anxious father of Bettina. 

"It was a fearful thought to father and lover, that there was even apossibility of Bettina's remaining in the hands of those fierce andlawless men for such a period of time as had been named. Yet itwould be impossible to raise the amount of the ransom in a shorterperiod of time. Four months seemed to them almost as so many years, and Egbert longed, at the head of a few faithful followers, toattack the redoubtable brigand; but this would have been tosacrifice Bettina's life at once. Alas! the ransom, and the ransomonly, could liberate her, all agreed. 

"But I weary you, dearest, and will at another time complete mystory. "

"Nay, by no means. "

"But the story is not yet half told. "

"The more of interest is then in store. "

"But it will keep until our next meeting. "

"As you will, Carlton; and so now, indeed, good night. You will comewith the sunset, tomorrow?"

"I will, dearest. "

And Carlton turned away to seek his own humble lodgings, while thelady returned to the sumptuous apartments which she called her home, to dream of the young artist, and the tale he had thus left but halfrelated. In the meantime with the reader we will turn to anotherchapter in the thread of our story. 

CHAPTER IV. 

THE DUKE'S PRIZE. 

I see this hath a little dashed your spirits. 

-Othello. 

CARLTON was a young American, passionately devoted to the art he wasstudying at Florence, the home of the arts. His pecuniary means, which were of a limited character, were, at the time our storyopens, at an unusually low ebb-indeed, he was almost penniless. Hehad been able, by losing much valuable time upon trifling and toyishpieces, to procure nearly enough for subsistence, taken inconnection with the little he already possessed. But of late he hadnot been able to find any spare time for the trifles he hadheretofore engaged himself upon at times, when he was obliged toobtain money for daily food, for reasons which we shall understandas we proceed with our story. 

Though of highly respectable birth, yet he was an orphan, anddependent upon the liberality of a rich relative for the advantagehe had already received in an excellent classical education, and themeans of travelling while in the study of his art. A few monthsprevious to the opening of our tale, this patron, who had been afather indeed to Carlton, died suddenly, and the news of his deceasereached the young American at the time he was just expecting aremittance of money. The consequence was, he found himselffriendless and without means, thousands of miles from his nativeland. He had incurred some small debts in anticipation of theexpected remittance, which placed him in a still more unpleasantsituation. 

It was a severe blow to Carlton to lose one who had been so kind tohim almost from childhood. It was hard, too, to sink at once from astate of plenty to one of absolute want. But thus it was, and heendeavored to bear his lot with all the philosophy and resignationhe could command; but it was a bitter stroke for him to bear, particularly at this time, when so much depended upon his being ableto pursue his calling uninterrupted, and still make the properappearance in his person. He felt that at no previous moment had heso much at stake as now; that at no previous time in the course ofhis life could such an event have been more unfortunate. But Carltonwas blessed with a heart easy to keep afloat; and though his futurewas hard, he looked upon its sunny side, and bore bravely up againstit, enduring not only mental but positive physical suffering in hismanliness. For months he had been almost constantly engaged insecret upon a painting, which he designed to present to the GrandDuke, for his private collection in the Palazzo Pitti, and on whichhe was to stake his reputation as an artist. He worked in secret, wehave said-ay, and with the pains of hunger gnawing him often, hisscanty purse scarcely affording him the means of procuringsufficient to sustain life. But still he worked on unwearied, in thehope, if not to gain the hand of Florinda, at least to be thoughtmore worthy of her. 

Little did she he loved know of the actual want he experienced. Hewas too proud to acknowledge it even to her; and often did he sit byher side faint and hungry, while he held a hand, the jewelledornaments of which alone would have rendered a peasant independentfor life. He exerted every faculty to obtain the means of dressingat least with seeming good taste; he endeavored to do this forappearance sake, and that he might pass well with the world, whichscans with inquisitive eye the outside show, and pays homageaccordingly. He did not fear that it would make any difference withFlorinda, yet he felt some pride, of course, in that quarter. Itrequired in his present emergency the sacrifice of many a meal toprocure him a coat, or any other necessary article of clothing. 

Carlton was not in the practice of meeting Florinda at the palace;the manifest impropriety of the thing rendered this out of thequestion. It was the practice of Florinda to call at certain periodsat the palace of a relation in the environs of the city, and hereCarlton often went to meet her; it was hard by the monastery whereshe had been educated, and where they had first met. The two sattogether one twilight hour; it was their chosen time of meeting. 

"Carlton, " said Florinda. 

"Well, dearest. "

"Why dost thou--" here Florinda hesitated. 

"Speak freely; what would you ask?"

"You will not be offended?"

"Indeed, no!"

"Nor think strange of me?"

"Nay, I promise thee. "

"Then--"

"Well, Florinda. "

"Why dost thou wear such a threadbare coat, Carlton? You know I carenot for such things, but I would have thee appear among thyfellow-artists as well clad as the best of them. "

"You know, Florinda, " said Carlton, blushing in spite of himself, "Itold you of my misfortune in losing my friend and patron. "

"True, but what has that to do with thy coat, Carlton?" asked thelady, who, never having known the want of money, could not realizethe effect of such a condition. And then, too, she did not exactlyunderstand the dependency of Carlton upon his patron. 

"O, nothing particular, dearest; but one must dress according to hismeans, you know. "

Florinda mused for a moment, and at length appeared to understandthe meaning of his words, when taking a rich purse of gold from hergirdle, she endeavored to give it to him in such a manner as tospare his feelings, but her utterance failed her, and she burst intotears! Carlton could not accept it. He would rather have starvedfirst; his proud spirit could not brook the deed. 

"No, Florinda, " ho said, "I cannot accept the purse, or anyassistance from thee, noble lady. But if you will bear with myhumble attire for a while, I hope to be able to dress in a style tosuit thy taste, and which will render me worthy, at least in pointof personal appearance, to walk by thy side. "

"Do you forgive me, Carlton, for this? It was but the impulse of themoment. I did not mean to insult thee. "

"Insult me!"

"Alas! I was but rude. "

"Nay, dearest. "

"You forgive me?"

"Florinda, I appreciate the feeling that prompted the generous act. Forgive thee? Yes, dearest, and love thee more for it. "

He pressed her hand to his lips, and they parted-Florinda to theregal palace of the duke, and Carlton to his humble lodgings. Thatnight he went to his bed without having tasted food throughout thewhole day. The next morning with the first light he rose, unable tosleep from hunger, and sought his canvass. While he could summon hispride, and season it with his ambition, this formed food andstimulus enough for him-a sustaining principle equal to naturalnutriment. But in his sleep, when nature asserted her power, and thephysical system claimed precedence over the brain, then the gnawingsof hunger could not be stilled; and thus he awoke, and, as we havesaid, sought his canvass to drive away the demon; for it was ademon-a tormenting fiend to him now!

Among the collection of artists at Florence-as in all Italiancities-there were representatives from nearly every part of theworld; and much rivalry and pride often showed itself, not onlyamong the students of the academy, but even among the masters orteachers themselves. This feeling at the time to which we allude, prevailed to an unusual extent, and its pernicious effects had beenthe cause of one or two duels of fatal termination. Carlton had longsince been obliged to leave the academy from want of means, and evenwhile there, he labored under great disadvantage in not being ableto keep up the appearance of a gentleman among his fellow-students, who were generally well supplied with pecuniary means. 

His comrades finding that he far exceeded them in point ofapplication, and consequently in execution and general improvement, naturally disliked him; and strange enough, too, the teacherstreated him with marked coolness and dislike, whether from a similarsense of his superior ability even over themselves, or otherwise, remains to be seen. 

"What a hang-dog look that Carlton has, " said one artist to another. 

"But he's a master with the brush, and bids fair to distance some ofus, " was the reply. 

"For my part, I hate all Americans. "

"Or rather all successful rivals, " suggested the other, sarcastically. 

"Rival or not, this Carlton is a bore. "

"So far I agree with you, " answered the other. 

"He's the poorest dressed artist in Florence. "

"There you are right again. "

And thus they sneered at him. 

Under all these disadvantages, Carlton was by no means discouraged. He was sustained by his ambition and love of his noble art, and, above all, by the love he bore Florinda. He hoped, through the meansof the picture he was engaged upon, to introduce himself to the goodwill of the duke; and this accomplished, one important step would betaken towards the goal his fancy had pictured in futurity. 

As we have said, Carlton left the academy through necessity, but hestill studied constantly in the grand gallery, and other places, ashis means would admit, while he worked on in secret. He haddetermined that his picture should be presented without a name, thatit might thus rise or fall honestly, upon its own merits. 

The duke had offered a princely prize for the favored picture, to beselected from out a collection to be exhibited to himself and courton a certain day. The monarch was devotedly attached to the art, andthus each year, by a like method, strove to encourage the talent andindustry of the students assembled at Florence. There were manycompetitors among the artists of the city on the occasion alludedto. Those who had gained renown in bygone years now took up thebrush anew, and pupils and masters strove alike for the enviablegoal. 

And this was not so much for the mere winning of the prize-thoughthat was a princely object-but it was well-known that whoeversucceeded in the contest, established his fame at once in Italy, andfrom that time forward could command his own terms for his pictures, and find a ready sale, too, for as many as he chose to complete. Itwas, in short, a diploma in art that was almost beyond value to theambitious students that had devoted themselves to art in Florence. 

Carlton worked incessantly and in secret upon his picture, which wasof a most elaborate and original design. Alone in his humbleapartment he worked by himself, without any kind word ofencouragement, or skilful suggestion. The time for the exhibitionwas fast approaching. Carlton was met by his former fellow-studentsevery morning, --pale and emaciated, returning from his frugal meal, of which he was obliged to eat enough to serve him through the day;for with his limited means he could afford but one! They joined himoften, and asked, insultingly, why he did not try for the rich prizeoffered by the Grand Duke for the choicest painting. 

Smothering the resentment he felt at these a insults, Carlton madeno answer to them, but contented himself with redoubling hisexertions with the brush; and it did seem to him after suchencounters, and every new insult, that his hand received a freshinspiration, and his mind renewed vigor. Perhaps he needed theincentive of pride, as well as that of love and ambition, to leadhim on, and sustain him in the prosecution of his noble endeavors. 

Thus it was, when the long expected day at last arrived-the daywhich was to make or mar his hope of the future; he trembled as herealized it. The various competitors had sent in their piecesaccompanied with their names, each confident in the excellence andfinish of his own production. All were arranged in the favoritegallery of the Grand Duke, and among them Carlton's, simply bearingthe name of "The Unknown. "

The hearts of the artists of Florence beat high on that day, and themoments were impatiently counted by all until the hour should arrivefor the public presentation and audience in the picture gallery. Theselection having been made on the previous day by the Grand Duke andhis court, the time had now arrived for him to award the prize hehad offered. 

Among the throng that crowded the gates of the palace, Carlton wasobserved humbly pursuing his way, turning neither to the right norleft, and passing unnoticed some of his brother artists, whoventured a jeer at his expense. 

"That coat of thine is not fit for the presence of the Grand Duke, "said one. 

"Carlton, you forgot to dress, today, " said another, tauntingly. 

"Don't bother him, " added a third; "he's only a looker-on. "

"That is all, gentlemen, " said Carlton, as he quietly passed theportals of the palace, secretly biting his lip with restrainedfeeling. He had other business in hand than to notice these insults. His soul was pre-occupied, and he scarcely heeded them a momentafter they had been spoken. 

CHAPTER V. 

AWARDING THE PRIZE. 

Let the end try the man. 

-Henry IV. 

THE beauty and the aristocracy of Florence crowded the gorgeousapartments of the ducal palace, admiring the matchless pictures nowfirst exhibited to the public view-the productions of the artists ofthe city for the prize of the liberal monarch. 

There was not one which did not draw forth high and just encomiumsfor its beauty and excellence; but all paused to admire above therest, one which, from originality of conception and perfection offinish, was pronounced to surpass all its competitors, and great wasthe curiosity expressed as to who was the author. -Some said thatMichael Angelo himself must have arisen from the tomb to produce soperfect a picture. Throughout the hours of the exhibition, until thetime appointed for the awarding of the prize, the superb picturebearing the name of "The Unknown, " was the constant theme of all, and the centre of attraction. 

Among that lovely collection of beauty and fashion stood Florinda, in all the loveliness of youth and high-born beauty, "the star ofthat goodly company. " How different was the expression of her facefrom the majority of those about her. No pride or envy could betraced on that beautiful brow, stamped with innocence andgentleness; those mild deep blue eyes knew no deceit, but franklyshared the promptings of her pure, untainted soul at every glance. 

She looked more like the formation of the fancy in some fairy dreamthan a reality, so angelic did she seem amid that princely throng. She did not know that Carlton had contended for the prize; he hadkept his own secret, and she expressed her unfeigned admiration ofthe picture by "The Unknown. " She was the belle of the hour, if notof the court, and her commendation alone would have served toattract attention to the picture; but already had the duke in personpointed out some of the most prominent beauties in the piece tothose about him. 

After a few preliminary remarks addressed by the liberal monarch tothe large assembly, which was now as still as death itself, he wenton to compliment the rare collection of art which was exhibited onthe occasion; and to prove the sincerity of his remarks, and thecompliment to all on this point, he offered a most princely pricefor each and all presented for the prize. He observed that had oneof the pieces which had been sent in failed to have been received, heshould have found it absolutely impossible to designnate the bestpainting from out the collection, each one of which was so excellentand perfect in itself. He then remarked that he was unable to awardthe prize he had proposed to present to the author of the paintingwhich would seem to himself and court to embody the greatest degreeof excellence, inasmuch as the picture which had been decided uponas possessing the most merit, in every department of its execution, had been sent to the gallery by unknown hands, and was the work ofan unknown artist. 

He closed his remarks by saying that the piece alluded to must bethe work of one high in his profession, for it fell little short ofthe works of the old masters themselves. "And, " added the duke, "ifthere is any one in this assembly who can inform us as to theauthorship of the piece in question, we most earnestly hope theywill oblige us by doing so at this tine, that we may do the authorthe honor his talents merit, and also avail ourselves of hisunequalled powers in his art. "

After a short pause, he proceeded to designate some of the mostprominent points of excellence in the painting; and being aconnoisseur in these matters, the assembly were highly entertainedby his well-chosen remarks, and his subject being one to call forthall his admiration, he was unusually eloquent. Indeed, his remarkswere so in unison with the appreciation of all who were presentthere and heard his voice, that he seemed to carry them along withhim, and to infuse fresh enthusiasm among those who had alreadyexpressed so much admiration of the picture. 

There was another pause, the duke evidently awaiting an answer tohis query as to the authorship of the piece. Yet there was no answergiven, nor was there any perceptible movement among the group ofartists, who were assembled together in one corner of the gorgeousapartment, and upon whom all eyes were turned. But they also staredat one another, wondering who could be the man. Many of them hadbeen liberal enough to express a feeling of delight and admiration, in beholding, as they said, so noble a production of modern times, and by a living artist. There were those, among them who reallyloved the art they followed, and thus were constrained toacknowledge their admiration. 

"I hope, " again repeated the duke to the assembly, "if there is anyone present who can inform us as to the authorship of this masterlyeffort of genius, he will do so at once, and confer a personal favorupon us. "

There was a slight movement perceptible among the group of artistsat this moment, and Carlton, the young American, was seen making hisway to the front of his companions, several of whom rebuked him forhis forwardness in so doing. 

"Why do you push forward, Carlton?"

"Nay, give way but a moment, " said our hero. 

"What would you?"

"To speak to the duke. "

"Fie, man, don't you see he's busy now?"

"Give way but a moment, " was the reply. 

"May it please you, excellenza, " said Carlton, stepping before thegroup of artists, and addressing the monarch in Italian, which hespoke like a native, "I am the humble author of the picture it haspleased you to compliment so highly. "

All eyes were turned upon the speaker, who stood forth from hiscompanions with downcast eyes and burning cheeks, for well he knewthat the eyes of all Florence, or rather its nobility, were restingupon him at that moment. The countenances of his former companionsevinced no emotions of resentment, as one might have expected whounderstood their former feelings toward the American. No; they weretoo much filled with surprise to entertain any other feeling for themoment, and they looked at each other in the utmost amazement, scarcely believing their senses. 

The eyes of the assembly were bent upon him, and in wonder, too, atthe threadbare coat and emaciated countenance, which told but tooplainly the tale of hunger and want he had suffered. And so it was, as the reader has seen. Carlton was too proud to make known hisnecessities, and he had suffered most incredibly from want. 

Hardly had Carlton spoken in answer to the question of the duke, when there was a visible commotion among the high-born dames thatsurrounded his seat, and one was carried by the attendants from theapartment fainting. It was the duke's, ward, the Signora Florinda. The surprise and delight which crowded itself upon her gentlesensibility, was too much for her to bear, and she sank insensibleinto the arms of those about her. 

"What so strangely affected the Signora Florinda?" asked the duke. 

"We know not, your highness, " replied one of her late companions. "She seemed regarding this young artist at the moment when she wastaken ill. "

"Singular. "

"Very, your highness. "

"Hasten after her, and return and let me know how she is. "

"Si, excellenza. "

"Say I will join her anon. "

"I will, excellenza. "

It was many minutes before the Grand Duke recovered from thesurprise occasioned by the appearance of Carlton, and the confusionconsequent upon the sudden illness of his ward; but at length he putthe question inquiringly:

"Americano?"

"Si, excellenza. "

"And this is the work of thy hands?"

"It is, excellenza. "

"It is a most masterly piece, by our lady, " said the duke, lookingfirst upon the painting and then at Carlton, as if half in doubt asto the truth of the young American's assertion. 

"Your excellenza is pleased to honor me, " said Carlton, with arespectful inclination of the head. 

"If the piece be thine, it is well merited, " continued the duke. 

"It shall be proved to thy satisfaction, excellenza. "

Carlton thanked in his heart the long auburn hair that covered inpart his burning cheeks, while he thus stood before that gallantassembly of the elite of the court of Florence. 

"What proof, sir artist, " said the duke, "shall we have of thegenuineness of this production?"

"By referring to the painting, excellenza, " replied Carlton; "youwill find a peculiarity of expression, a want of finish in thefeatures of the third figure on the extreme left of the canvass. "

"You speak truly, Signor Americano; we had before noticed thedefect, and were at loss to account for it in so perfect a pictureas this before us. But what of the flaw, signor?-the discovery ofthat which any one of thy profession would have noticed does notprove the piece to be the work of thine own hands, for we also hadobserved it. "

"Very true, excellenza, " replied Carlton, "but with your permission, I will complete the expression of that countenance with a touch; andwhen complete, it shall agree in strength of touch, style, tone offinish, and every particular, with the rest of the piece. And, moreover, you shall be enabled therein to recognize the likeness ofone of your own household. Is it the pleasure of your excellenzathat I add the finish before the present assembly?"

"It is our desire, " said the now deeply interested monarch. 

A hum of admiration arose as Carlton, after retiring for a moment, returned with his palette and brush, and approached the picture. 

While the duke's band now played to the deeply interested assembly, Carlton, with a firm, bold touch, immediately supplied theindescribable something that had been wanting-the je ne sais quoithat had been referred to as being requisite to its proper finish. It was done with such judgment and skill, that the addition, thoughfresh, could not be detected unless by a very close observation. None save the author, who had purposely left that flaw, could sohave remedied it. It was done almost instantly, yet with precisionand accuracy. 

The duke gazed upon the canvass for a moment, and then exclaimedwith admiration:

"The Grand Chamberlain!-by our lady, what a likeness! Sir artist, thou hast the pencil of a Raphael!"

"Is your excellenza satisfied?"

"We are convinced that the piece is thine own. None other than itsauthor could have accomplished that which we have just witnessed. "

"Come hither, gentlemen, " said the duke to several of his courtabout him; and pointing to the canvass, and the touch it had justreceived, said, "This proof is incontestable!"

"It is, indeed, " was the response, "Are you, too, satisfied, gentlemen?"

"We are. "

"Enough. "

The duke then assuming his seat of state, directed the artist toapproach him. First complimenting him as a son of America, theglorious Republic of the West, and on his extraordinary genius-as hewas pleased to express himself-he awarded him the rich prizeprepared for the occasion, at the same time offering him a sum forthe painting which would have rendered a man of moderate wishesindependent for life. 

"The prize, your excellenza, " said Carlton, "I gladly accept as atoken of your liberality in advancing the interests of the noble artI follow. But as it regards the high price you have set upon myhumble effort, I can only say, that I had designed it from the firstas a present for your excellenza, and only ask in return, that itmay find a place in your private and unrivalled collection-if, indeed, it shall be deemed worthy of that honor. "

"Signor Americano, " said the duke, "it shall share the Tribune withour best pictures, and shall be prized alike with them. "

Now the Tribune, so called, was a small apartment of the duke'sgallery devoted to the gems of his collection, and so named after asimilar appropriation in the departments of the grand gallery ofFlorence. The hanging of a picture in this place was of itself alonethe highest compliment the author could receive through hisproduction; and so did Carlton understand and appreciate the honorthus designed him, which also was the more welcome, being entirelyunexpected. 

He could hardly realize that his humble effort should be deemedworthy of such preferment, or that it could possibly possess suchmerit as to warrant its being placed side by side with those of theimmortal masters, whose humblest follower he had ever deemedhimself. No wonder his heart beat now so quickly, and he breathed sofast; the goal of his ambition was before him, and almost within hisgrasp. It seemed only necessary for him to reach out his hand andpluck the garland of success and of renown. The pause that hadintervened here was but for a single moment of time, when it wasonce more broken by the duke himself, who spoke, as he felt, mostkindly and in encouraging tones. 

"Signor Americano, " said the duke, "thy habiliments are those of onewhose purse is but narrowly lined, and we are at a loss to accountfor this willingness to part with that which has cost thee labor ofmonths, and in which thou hast been so eminently successful. We domuch crave the picture, but will nevertheless forego its possessionunless it can be had at our own valuation. "

"As the picture was painted for your excellenza, and you design forit such honor, I could wish its free acceptance; but it must beyours on any terms, " said Carlton. 

The assembly then dispersed, and our hero received a purse of goldfor his picture, exceeding in amount his wildest expectations ofwhat he might earn by his art in years of industry and frugality. 

The scene he had successfully perfected, represented two applicantsfor justice, standing before the Pope of Rome. They were priests, and had come before him for his judgment in the matter of contentionbetween them. They were ushered into the presence of the pope by ahigh official, and to this usher had Carlton given the features ofthe duke's chamberlain. It was a superb design, and represented alate occurrence well-known to the people of Florence, and for thisreason, aside from that of its acknowledged superiority, possessedpeculiar interest at that time. 

The deep, yet natural expression of feeling depicted in eachcountenance, the perfect harmony of the general conception and itscompleteness of finish, rendered the picture a study requiring timeto comprehend and appreciate all its many excellences. It wasfinished, and the work of half a year, pursued with the utmostassiduity in secret, had proved successful. All his pains andself-denials were now forgotten; he was doubly paid for all hissufferings-he even looked back upon them with a conscientious pride, and deemed that he had bought his preferment cheaply. 

And such is ever the fate of true genius; it rarely receives the aidof fortune in gaining fame, but struggles on, dependent upon its ownslow but sure preferment. This is self-evident; for genius mayremain ever latent, unless brought out and improved by stemnecessity. 

CHAPTER VI. 

THE MASQUERADE BALL. 

Prosperity's the very bond of love. 

-Winter's Tale. 

WHAT a perfect chequer-board is this same game of life on which weall hold so transient a lease. Time is the board, and the variousvicissitudes of life make up the chequered field, ourselves thewooden "men;" each and all strive for preferment, and whether it begained or not, depends solely upon the shrewdness of him who playsthe game. The "king-row" may designate the pinnacle of earthlywishes and hopes, while the various "moves" may show the strugglefor that desirable goal-happiness. Ah! how many of us get "penned"and "cornered"--and many too, in their headlong course, are "jumped, "and taken off the scene of action. Truly, there is a vast similitudebetween this game of chequers and the bolder one of life. 

Here was poor Carlton but lately struggling along the chequeredfield, now moving literally towards the king-row. In a fewsubsequent weeks, with a well-filled purse, he was enjoying life andhis art like a true gentleman, and was the envy of every artist inFlorence; and yet they all strove to do him honor, at least; so itappeared, orders for his productions crowded upon him from all thenobility, not only of Florence, but of all Tuscany. The privatepalaces of the environs of the city were thought incomplete in theircollections, unless supplied with one at least of his pictures, thepatronage of the Grand Duke, and his own work, which occupied thefavored place in the Pitti Palace, having raised him to the pinnacleof fame as an artist. 

All Italy honored the productions of the fortunate American, andscarcely could a Raphael or a Titian have been more respected orhonored. It was his own genius that had raised him and no accidentof fortune. 

"This young American monopolizes the market with his brush justnow, " said one artist to another. 

"Ay, and gets such princely prices, too, for his pictures! Funnyworld, this! It is scarcely three months since he was likely tostarve for want of work. "

"All the Grand Duke's doings; he can make as easily as he can mar aman", replied the other. 

"But a man must have genius to fill the place Carlton holds. "

"As much as you might put on a knife's point-no more, " said theother, enviously. 

The long Italian day is past, and its shadows have died over theneighboring mountains, giving place to the voluptuous and dewytwilight, which lightly wraps itself with its soft mantle of studdedstars closely about the lovely breast of the Val d'Arno. But a fewhours later, and the Palazzo Pitti is one blaze of light, and thethrilling music of the duke's favorite band resounds already amongthe fountains and groves of the gardens; already have commenced tocongregate the gay courtiers and lovely dames of this land of thesun. The diamond tiaras that sparkle on those lovely brows are lessdazzling than the lovely and soul-ravishing eyes that look out fromthat mental diamond, the soul within; the jewelled stars upon thosemanly breasts well become the noble bearing of the wearers. Brilliant indeed was the soiree of the rich and liberal Grand Dukeof Tuscany. The Austrian-born monarch seemed to delight insurrounding the nobles of his court with the most magnificent luxuryand display that wealth could procure, as if he would fain show hisItalian subjects his own national taste. 

"The duke spares no expense in his entertainments, " said the Englishconsul to a friend, by whom he was standing. 

"I have known him send to Rome frequently for an artifice to servehim a single evening, " was the reply. 

"It may be a weakness thus to lavish expenditure, but it is a mostbrilliant one, " said the consul. 

"And one which is dictated as much by policy as by his own personalgratification, " said the other. 

"Perhaps so; but without questioning his motives, we may at allevents enjoy the feast he spreads. "

"That is but proper and reasonable, and I most heartily subscribe tothe same, "

It is a masked ball that occupies the gay throng in the ducalpalace. That is to say, in accordance with a general custom of thetimes, those who please are masked until midnight, when, at thesound of the hour from the great throat of the bell, all masks areremoved, and all disguises laid aside. Carlton as the successfulprotege of the Grand Duke, and Carlton the humble artist, was a verydifferent person. He was the observed of all observers; and many arich belle sought his side-nay, even leaned upon his arm, as hestrolled through the gorgeous rooms of the palace. They weresufficiently disguised by their masks to remove any fear of personalrecognition; and therefore, those who knew him not, save by the latescene of winning the prize, besought his escort for the dance-apiece of forwardness quite allowable during the masked part of theball. Many were the eyes that were bent upon him; and more than oneglance of jealousy was shot towards him by s young nobles, as theysaw the belles drawn to his side. 

[SEE ENGRAVING. ]

Carlton was naturally graceful, dignified and handsome, and bore hisnew position as though he had ever filled it-now chatting gaily withthis lady, now with that, but all the while striving to detectthrough the many disguises of dresses and masks, the one form thatwas to him all in all-the queen of his heart and his love, SignorinaFlorinda. He was himself unmasked, and wore a rich Grecianhead-dress, a tunic of dark velvet, trimmed with rich ermine, andclasped close about the throat with checks of gold. His silken hose, and velvet shoes faced with silver thread, set off his fine limbs toperfection. A light, graceful dirk hung at his silver girdle, finishing a costume of great simplicity and beauty. On his right armthere now leans the peerless figure of a countess, with whom hepromenades and chats in his gay and spirited way, while she isevidently much captivated with him-indeed, so much is this apparent, that a figure of less height, dressed in a simple peasant's garb andmasked, steals up to his side and whispers some words into his ear;but though the reader may easily guess who that peasant girl reallywas, for the moment Carlton knew her not, and gently declining someproposal from her lips, he turns and walks on with the countessthrough the blaze of light and grandeur. 

"That fellow carries it with a high hand, " said one young noble toanother, referring to Carlton. 

"Ay, but he has the full countenance and favor of the duke, and nonecan gainsay him. "

"Well, he is deuced clever, " said the English consul, who wastalking with the other two. 

"Is it a fact that he is American?" asked the first speaker, stillregarding him. 

"Undoubtedly. You know he was announced as such when he won theduke's prize. "

"How the ladies take to him, " said the English consul. 

"And he to them, " added another. 

"The Signora Florinda is said particularly to affect him, and he maywin a prize there, " said one of the group. 

"That would be too bad-the richest heiress in Florence to throwherself away thus!"

"'There's many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip, '" quoted theEnglish consul, and then walking away. 

And thus Carlton was the unconscious theme of comment to a largeportion of the assembly. But the hour approaches when the heavy bellof the palace strikes the midnight hour, and the masquerade will bebroken up, and each and all appear before each other in their truecharacters. Peasant girls will don the attire more fitting theirstation; kings and queens will descend to their true estates;brigands will lay by the threatening paraphernalia of themountain-robber, and hooded monks will assume a more worldly attire. The hour is struck, and the scene changes!

All is once more life and gayety, but the mask is discarded, andeach one is undisguised. See, as the grand chamberlain, with thegolden key of office wrought ostentatiously upon his ample velvetmantle, aids in arranging the preliminaries of the dance, he pausesto address with respect, and yet with a degree of familiarity, atall, manly person of noble bearing, and of handsome features, opposite to whom stands, as partner for the dance, Signora Florinda, the duke's ward. The queenly beauty of her person is the same aswhen we first met her, so lovely and captivating. The few monthswhich have intervened since that period, have only served still moreto perfect her ripening mould; and though scarcely nineteen summershave shed their golden wealth upon that genial land since her natalhour, yet she is in the full bloom of lovely womanhood. 

See how gracefully glides that beautiful form through the mazes ofthe dance!-how fondly, as she rests within the encircling arm of herpartner, does she look up into his face, drinking from the eloquenteyes that meet her own of the nectar of love, as the Suri rose ofSyria sips the dewy treasures of the twilight hour. That partner onwhom she rests so fondly, gentle reader, is the humble painter whowon the prize of the Grand Duke; the now rich and honored Carlton, the protege of Leopold. 

The generous monarch who ruled over that portion of Italy under hischarge with the liberal and provident hand of a father, held mostregal court-spending of his enormous revenue with a gallant and openhand. His excellency was a connoisseur in all matters of the arts, to which he was enthusiastically devoted, and also a most liberalpatron to their interest; consequently he lavished all honor on himwhom he thought so deserving of it, and the entire court now pointedto the envied artist as being the favorite of the Grand Duke. Carlton's new patron found qualities in the young American artist toadmire and love, and there grew up between him and the duke a realand earnest friendship quite remarkable. 

"No more thanks, " said the duke to him one day as they weretogether. "You challenge me to praise, to reward, and to love you, and I cannot help doing all three. "

"Your highness is only too lavishly kind to me, " was the earnestreply. 

"But touching this affection which has sprung up between you and myward. I shall have plenty of opposition in that matter; but ifFlorinda loves you, by our lady, she shall be yours. "

"Your highness is ever adding to my indebtedness to you, " saidCarlton. 

"Say no more, say no more, Carlton, but make your own terms. "

The consent of the duke was thus freely obtained to the marriage ofFlorinda and Carlton, and the observant monarch discovered thepreference of his ward long before it was announced formally to him. So far from opposing the object, he even encouraged it in every waythat propriety suggested; forwarding its interests by such delicatepromptings as his feelings would permit. He loved Florinda as thoughshe had been his own child. This feeling, as we have seen, was firstinduced by the affection which existed between his ward and hislamented wife, and was afterward strengthened by her many beautiesof mind and person. 

Carlton and Florinda sat together in a private apartment in theroyal palace. The latter was playing a favorite air upon the guitarto the artist, who sat at her feet watching with admiration everymovement of that beautiful and dearly loved form. He found everyattribute there worthy a heart's devotion. Like the worshippers ofthe sun, who believe that God sits there on his throne, so did he, in his homage, picture the good angel of all things in the heart ofFlorinda. 

Let us pause for a moment, to describe the apartment in the PalazzoPitti, devoted to the fair Signora Florinda, and where she now satwith him she loved. It was fittingly chosen, being in a retired yeteasily accessible angle of the palace; an apartment lofty and large, yet not so much so as to impart the vacant and lonely feeling that alarge room is wont to do over the feelings of the occupant whenalone. 

It was lighted by two extensive windows, reaching nearly from theceiling to the floor. The magnificence of the furniture, the richand well chosen paintings that ornamented the walls, and in short, the air of unostentatious richness that struck the beholder onentering it, showed at once the good taste and general character ofthe occupant. 

On a little table of elaborate and beautiful workmanship, wereplaced with a few rare and favorite books, some curious ornamentsfrom the hands of the cunning artificers of the East, mostbeautifully fancied, and from which a moral might be read tellingthe fair occupant of the unhappy state of her own sex in that faroff clime. 

The broad, heavy and richly-wrought curtains that tempered the lightadmitted through the gorgeously stained glass windows, were ofTuscan satin, blending, like the skies under which they weremanufactured, a most happy conceit of rich and rosy colors. Pendantfrom the hoops in which both were gathered, hung a bunch of ostrichfeathers of showy whiteness belieing, as it were, the country oftheir nativity-swarthy Africa. They were more for fancy than foruse, though they did sometimes serve to chase the flies. 

The seats and couches were of stuffed and figured velvet from themanufactories of the queen of the Adriatic, Venice. The scarcelyless soft and pliant carpet was of eastern ingenuity, and no richerserved the Turkish Sultan himself. Two opposite sides of theapartment were ornamented each with a mirror of extensive size. About their richly gilded frames was wound, in graceful festoons, the finest Mechlin lace as a screen for the eye. 

On one side of the room stood an American piano, and beside it aharp of surpassing richness. Here Carlton and Florinda were seatedat this time in all the confidence and enjoyment of acknowledgedlove. 

"Carlton, I told thee that fortune would smile upon thee; thourememberest that I told thee. "

"It has indeed, and I am blessed. "

And thus saying, he pressed the delicate, jewelled hand that he heldaffectionately to his lips, while his eyes beamed with love. 

"You have promised me that you will visit my native land with meafter our marriage, dear Florinda. "

"O, nothing will delight me more than to see the American Republic;the cities and towns of the New World, its people and customs. O, how I have ever wished to travel! Only to think, Carlton, I havescarcely been out of Italy! I once made a trip with uncle across thesea to Malaga and back, touching at the islands; that was years goneby. Since then I have been at times to Milan, Genoa, Leghorn andBologna, but never out of Italy. "

"America is not like thy sunny land, Florinda. "

"Ay, but it is the land of thy nativity, and I will love it for thysake, And then it is a free, republican government; there are noserfs there-all are freemen. How proud you should feel to belong tosuch a country. "

"I do indeed feel proud, dear one; and doubly so when thy eloquenttongue describes it so well. "

He touched the guitar lightly and gaily, while he thought of thehappy tour they would make together. 

"How proud I shall be of thee, " he continued. 

"How proud I am of thee. "

"There is little pride in thee, Florinda, or thou wouldst never haveconsented to marry one of my humble pretensions. "

"Carlton, " said the lady, reproachfully. 

"And thou wilt marry the humble painter?"

"Nay, the envied artist, and protege of the duke. "

"Ah, little have I coveted this advancement, but for the hope thatit has given me concerning thee, Florinda! The favored friend of theGrand Duke has dared boldly to ask for that which the poor artistcould only hope for. "

Florinda and Carlton were happy in the anticipation of future joy, foreseeing for themselves a path of roses in the fairy future. 

"But fortune is fickle, dearest, and even now I tremble. "

"You are ever suspicious, Carlton. "

"Not in most matters, but in those relating to thee, Florinda. "

"Now, I am ever looking on the sunny side of our life-picture. "

"It is good philosophy to do so, if one can but accomplish thepurpose. "

"And yet, Carlton, one will sometimes be reminded that there is ashadowed side to the brightest scenes and hopes. "

"We will seek its bright side, dearest. "

"With all my heart. -Carlton, do you not remember that you left theheroine of that story you were last telling me in a most criticalsituation?"

"True, she was carried off by the banditti. Shall I complete thestory?"

"Yes, pray do. "

CHAPTER VI. 

THE RHINE LEGEND COMPLETED. 

They laugh that win. 

-Othello. 

"WELL, Florinda, you must go with me in imagination to the mountainfastness, which I referred to as the robbers' stronghold in themountains. A month nearly had passed since the period of Bettina'sbeing carried away from her home, and the time I would introduce youthere. It is a wild spot, almost inaccessible, unless one knows thesecret paths which have been hewn up the sides of the rocks, andthrough the otherwise impassable undergrowth of the forest, by theperseverance and labors of the robbers. The rude castle, which Iwould now describe to you, was built with consummate military skill, and the walls and bastions, though small and low, could hold out along time against any strength that might be brought against it. Ever prepared for an enemy, too, was its cautious master and hisoutposts were as regularly set as are those of an advancing army inan enemy's country. 

"Hither had the fair Bettina been conducted; and here, with a simplepeasant girl to serve her, had she been treated with all respect, save that she was a prisoner. Rude were the inhabitants of thisuncongenial spot; fierce in aspect, but completely under the controlof the master spirit, whom they called captain. Hark! A peculiarwild cry rings over the tree-tops, and echoes among the rocks andhills; and observe how quickly those who have been loitering uponthe ground spring to their feet, and Petard himself comes forth fromthat portion of the tower devoted to his retirement. That was somerecognized signal-that cry which, to the uninitiated, might havebeen mistaken for the whoop of an owl, or some wild bird's cry offright. 

"The secret is soon disclosed. That signal betokened the taking of acaptive, and there was soon led into their midst the person of onewhom misery seemed to have laid violent hands upon, with garmentstorn and soiled, with a step that indicated weakness almost to deathitself, the face disfigured by unshorn beard and hair, and eyes thatlooked sunken and large from famine. Such was the bent andwoe-begone figure that was now half-supported, half-led into themidst of the band. 

"'From whence comes this man?' asked Petard, regarding himcuriously. 

"'He was found lurking about our outskirts, captain, and we thoughtit best to arrest and bring him in. '

"'It is well, ' continued the captain of the robbers. 'What have youto say for yourself, fellow? What brought you in these regions, awayfrom town and habitations?'

"'Give me food, food!' gasped the prisoner. 

"'Ay, by our lady, he's famished, ' said Petard, with a naturalburst of feeling. 'Here, bring bread-a flask of wine. '

"He was obeyed, and the new comer drained the flask to the bottom, and devoured the food voraciously, until those about him interfered, saying that he would kill himself after so long an abstinence; andtruly there seemed to be some grounds for this fear, so ravenouslyhungry did he seem. Gradually, as the wine warmed his veins, and thefood, to which some dried meats had been added, began to satisfy thecravings of hunger, the stranger rose from his bending posture, andnew life seemed infused into his system. His eyes, though somewhathollow, seemed to brighten and light up his rugged face. There wasmanhood in him, and that pleased the bandits; he showed no signs offear, and looked boldly about him, like one who was accustomed torely on himself, and was prepared to stand forth at any moment indefence of his rights. 

"'If thou canst fight as well as thou canst eat, my man, thou art ajewel of a fellow, ' said Petard, carefully scanning the new comer, who seemed every moment brightening up from the effects of thenourishment. 

"'Give me but rest and more food, and you may then try me, ' was thebrief reply. 

"'Thou art a sensible fellow, ' continued Petard, who was evidentlypleased with the stranger, 'and shalt be humored. '

"A rude couch was spread by the robbers amidst their stacks of arms, and throwing himself upon the skins thus prepared for him, thestranger slept for hours, until the bright sun was high in theheavens on the following morning, when, after another abundant meal, he seemed like a new creature; he stood erect, and his fine dark eyeshone with the fire of resolution and of strength. His story wassoon told; he had outraged the laws, was seized and condemned topunishment, had effected his escape and fled to the mountains, andwandered about until half-starved, and nearly dead with fatigue, hehad thus been found. 

"'Your story is plausible, but what shall we do with you? You knowthe secret of our paths through the mountain, and it is not safe tolet thee go abroad to reveal them, ' said the bandit chief. 

"'Make me one of you, then, ' said the stranger. 

"'We make but few members, ' replied Petard. 'It is not our way; andmen must possess peculiar qualities to obtain a place with us, and ashare of our prize-earnings. '

"Probably courage, strength and a ready hand are worth somethingamong you, ' said the stranger. 

"'Yes, but we all possess these, ' replied Petard. 

"'In a degree, ' said the stranger, emphasizing the last word. 

"'What mean you?' asked Petard. 

"'That perhaps he who offers you his services is a better man thanyou take him for, ' said the other. 

"'In what respects?' asked Petard. 

"'In all things that constitute manhood, ' was the reply. 'YesterdayI was weak and worn; to-day I am myself again. And no man of thisband can bear the palm from me in the use of those powers whichHeaven has given us. '

"'Without weapons, you mean to say, ' added Petard. 

"'Without weapons I defy your best man, ' said the stranger, evidently desiring to display some prowess which should gain himadmission to the band. 

"There was a consultation between Petard and a few of his officersand men, and finally there stepped forth a large, powerful member ofthe troop-the bully of the band-who offered without weapons tocontend with the new comer. The terms were properly stated by thecaptain, the ground chosen, and the contest begun. The skill, strategy and strength of the stranger were confounding to therobber, and he was cast upon the ground totally disabled in a veryfew moments. The robbers being angry at this, another steppedforward, was vanquished as quickly, and another, and still another, until Petard himself interfered, declaring that he who could thusfight without weapons, and with such skill and decision, must be astrong auxiliary in time of need. He was installed, therefore, withdue ceremony, as a member of the band. 

"It was a fine, clear night, " continued Carlton, "that on which itcame the turn of the new comer to guard the tower in which BettinaEtzwell was confined. The stars shone out like mystic lamps, and thebroad turrets of the robbers' stronghold cast deep shadows upon theopen plats that had been cleared about the spot. All was still. After an evening of revelry, the band was sleeping, and the singleguard paced to and fro, apparently not daring to sit down lest heshould fall asleep. In the lone tower above him was the fairprisoner. She realized her true situation, and she knew that herfather would use every endeavor to raise the sum requisite for herransom. She knew enough about the habits and practices of thebanditti, not to have any fears for her personal safety, since itwas so much for their pecuniary advantage to protect and respecther. Indeed, Petard had frankly told her of the communications thathad taken place between her father and himself concerning herransom. 

"But hark! What startles the fair girl so suddenly? See, she hastensto the turret window, and listens absorbedly to the low but musicalnotes of a human voice. Is it because the song is so familiar to herear, that she is thus moved? Perhaps there are recollectionsconnected with this air that are particularly affecting to her, forher fair bosom heaves quickly, and her whole figure seems agitated, as she gazes out upon the night, and her eyes rest upon the personof the robber who guards her captivity, while a clear, manly voice, though in subdued cadence, pours forth the touching notes of a Rhinesong with singular delicacy and sweetness. 

"'Can there be two such voices?' she asked herself. 'Is there magicat work? That is certainly the voice of Egbert, but yonder guard whosings thus is one of these detested banditti!'

"In her excitement, she leaned forth from the turret-window, whileat the same moment the new member of the band drew towards it. Allwas still; the revellers slept. Petard himself slept. Only thissingle sentinel and the prisoner were awake!

"'Bettina, Bettina!' whispered the guard, with his hands to hismouth, so as to direct the sound to her ears alone. 

"'God be praised, Egbert! Is it indeed you?' she exclaimed aloud. 

"'Hush, it is your devoted lover; be discreet!' he answered. "

"I knew it was he, " interrupted Florinda. 

Carlton continued. "'I will, I will. But this dress-the office youfill. What does this mean? I am amazed, Egbert. '

"'I am here under a disguise, ' he replied, 'and have just joined therobbers to liberate thee. Be careful, watchful, but never appear toregard me let what may occur, for I may be foiled at first in mypurpose. '

"'My father-' lisped Bettina. 

"'Is well, ' said her lover. 'All will go well if thou wilt but becautious. ' Come to the outer door-I have the key. '

"'Shall we fly?' she asked. 

"'Not to-night; preparation must be made. Perhaps to-morrow night, for I have the watch here for two nights, and shall see you then. Come down for a few moments. '

"In an instant more the lovers were folded in each other's arms. Egbert had never before embraced her; but their present situationwas one to break down all barriers of mere formality, and Bettinasobbed upon his breast, blessing him for his, courage in thus seekingto rescue her. These were precious moments, and they improved themin arranging everything for the coming night. Egbert, as she badehim good night, handed her a jewelled dagger, saying that let whatmight occur, she had that silent friend!

"It is just four weeks since the first instalment on the robber'sdemanded ransom was paid, when the agent of Petard again appeared inthe hall of Botzletz Castle, confident in his personal security, well knowing that the old man's daughter was the hostage held forhis safety and the fulfilment of the contract, and demands a secondquarter of the ransom. He was a dark, sinister looking Jew-for thiswas the class through whom the bandits universally performed alltheir business arrangements with people whom they could notpersonally approach-himself interested by the large percentage whichwas the payment for his part of the business. The Jew was mostpertinacious in his demand. 

"Karl Etzwell, the merchant, received the Jew, listened patiently tohis demand, and then calmly said:

"'Two hundred and fifty marks of gold thou hast already receivedfrom me on this business. '

"'I have, ' replied the Jew. 

"'And thou now demandest an additional two hundred and fifty?' saidthe merchant. 

"'It is my business, ' was the answer. 

"'Canst change me a good obligatory note for five hundred?' askedthe merchant. 

"The Jew drew forth his bag of gold, and after a brief examination, said:

"'If thou wilt take a few diamonds at their true valuation, I canmake up the sum on the spot, but I shall charge you goodly usury. '

"'It is well, ' replied the merchant. 

"'You agree to this?'

"'Count out the money, ' said the old merchant. 

"It was done, and the Jew deposited upon the table two hundred andfifty marks of gold, partly made up by a score of fine diamonds. 

"'We should have some witnesses to this transaction, ' said themerchant. 'I will summon them. '

"'It were better done between ourselves alone, ' said the Jew. 

"At the same moment the heavy folding-doors behind the seat occupiedby Karl Etzwell were thrown open, and two persons, a lady andgentleman, advanced towards the old merchant, They were Bettina andEgbert!

"'Foiled with thine own weapons!' said Egbert, advancing andsecuring the money which the Jew had deposited upon the table. 'Thisis the exact sum that was paid to thee four weeks since. It is nowreturned, and you are a marked man. If seen again in these parts, Iwill myself have thee cut in piecemeal, and hung at my castle gates. Now, villain, get thee hence!'

"'Gentlemen, you forget that there is a captive who will pay thepenalty of all this, ' said the Jew, with a demoniacal grin. 

"'You are not fully informed, Sir Jew, ' said Egbert. 'Your principalcould inform you that his bird has flown, and I tell you that thereshe stands beside her father. '

"The Jew uttered a smothered execration, and tore his hair for amoment in despair at the loss he had experienced. But the iron gripof Egbert's powerful hand upon his shoulder awoke him to a sense ofpain and fear for his safety, and he hurried away. 

"The descendants of Egbert and Bettina still live happily in theirancestral home, " added Carlton, "and often relate the story of themanner in which the famous bandit Petard was foiled by the gallantand daring stratagem of Egbert Hosfeldt. "

"This is a happy ending, indeed, " said Florinda. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

A RIVAL. 

Excellent! I smell a device. 

-Twelfth Night. 

EVERY picture has its dark side-no scene is all sunshine; and so itis our duty to depict the shadow as well as the brightness of thefortunes of those whose story we relate. Carlton had met withopposition, circumstances which he had bravely overcome had impededhis progress, physical suffering had been patiently endured, and yetthe dark side of his fortune might be said to have hardly beenturned upon his gate as yet. The love of Florinda had ever sustainedhim; her solemn promise to be his wife, her tender love and constantaffection-all these had rendered his hardships mere pastimes. Butnow matters were to assume a different aspect; a new stumbling-blockwas to appear in his path, and a most serious one, indeed. 

Florinda had an uncle resident at Bologna, where he had lived somethree years previous to the opening of our story, filling some postdelegated to him by the government. This uncle, Signor Latrezzi, wasvery fond of Florinda, or at least he had always appeared to be so;and up to the time the Grand Duke had become her guardian, he hadhimself assumed the care of his lovely young niece. Some openlydeclared that he had done this from mercenary motives; but be thatas it may, the story will divulge his character. He had not left hersurrounded by the gayety and dissipation of the court of Florencewithout some misgivings, lest some untoward circumstance mightbefall her, or that she might become entangled in some alliancecontrary to her own interests and his desires. 

In consequence of these promptings, he had earnestly impressed uponFlorinda at the time of his parting from her, on his way to Bologna, to be wary and careful. The truth was, that her uncle had laid out aplan for her future, and would have been very glad to have remainedby her side in order the more surely to carry it out, but he couldnot decline the office to which he was now appointed, and thus hewas obliged to leave. He had long designed her hand for an equallyfavorite nephew on his wife's side, and on this match had firmlyfixed his heart. Some said that this was because he desired soearnestly to sustain the character, name and blood of the house ofCarrati, of which Florinda was the sole survivor; others, moreshrewd, declared that the uncle had a sinister motive beneath all ofthose so apparent. 

Florinda was no stranger to this expectation, but had never given itthought, either in favor or against the consummation of her uncle'sideas. The subject was rarely alluded to, and even her uncle deemedher still too young to entertain the idea of matrimony. In a countryand among a class where matches were so commonly mere matters ofbusiness and mercenary calculation, such an affair did not createmuch remark or interest between even the parties themselves. Asidefrom the considerations of family honor, the pride of birth andnoble blood, the large, nay, unequalled fortune of Florinda-alwaysexcepting that of the Grand Duke-was a strong inducement to thisstep. That her relation had some personal ends in view, inconnection with the proposed alliance, was equally obvious to allwho knew the mercenary and selfish character of his generaldisposition. His treatment towards Florinda had ever been kind andfatherly, but this course was adopted only that he might gain thenecessary ascendancy over her mind and purpose to make sure of hisplan. 

This plan of procedure, artfully adopted by her uncle from her verychildhood, had completely deceived Florinda-as we shall haveoccasion to see-and she was led to believe him kind and affectionateto her, who was proud and selfish in all his dealings with the restof the world. His nephew, Petro Giampetti, was probably the onlybeing he really loved; nor was his regard for him unalloyed, buttempered with that selfishness that formed a prominent trait in hisnatural disposition. He was childless himself, and had lost his wifeby death not many years previous to the time of which we write-twocircumstances which had rather tended to augment his unhappydisposition. 

At times he was moody and thoughtful, and some matter seemed toweigh heavily upon his mind. He was, however, a peculiar man, withfew personal friends and no confidants, and there were some darkhints thrown out touching his honesty in the matter of a sum ofmoney entrusted to his care and disbursement by the government. Butpolicy had led to this report's being hushed up on the part ofgovernment, for he was of noble blood. 

This nephew, Petro Giampetti, was a handsome youth after the styleof the Italians, possessed of all the noble and revengeful passionsso common to his countrymen, yet by no means an evil-disposedperson. His dark, swarthy countenance was rendered handsome by aremarkably deep, piercing eye, about which there was a certainsomething which, while you could not exactly describe, yet left anunpleasant effect upon the beholder; a certain expression thatseemed to say that when an object was to be gained, the means wouldsometimes be disregarded. 

He had been much with Florinda from childhood, and he was taught toconsider her as his future wife. As to love, he might be said toadmire her beauty of person and mind, for none knew better how toappreciate both than Petro; and, taken in connection with hisanticipated union with her, he perhaps loved her as the world goes. But she had never excited in his bosom that latent passion whichsmoulders in every heart, and which chance, earlier or later, willeventually fan into a flame. 

He thought the matter settled, and lived accordingly, giving himselflittle trouble or thought as to the affair. He had oftencongratulated himself, since he had become of an age to appreciatesuch things, that he was to be so nobly connected, aside from theunbounded wealth there was in store for him. To speak moreparticularly, this latter consideration was of no little weight withone whose family coffers and private purse were sadly low and muchneeded replenishing. 

Petro held the office of private secretary to his uncle in hiscapacity as an officer of state, and was consequently called withhim to Bologna, and there resided with him until a few monthssubsequent to the awarding of the prize by the Grand Duke for thefavored picture presented at the Pitti palace, when the businesswhich had called them from home being completed, he followed hisuncle on his return to Florence. He came back with a light heart, little anticipating the scenes that were to follow, or deeming thathis hopes of future wealth and distinction by means of the proposedalliance with Florinda, had suffered in his absence. 

Thus stood matters at this period of Carlton's good fortune; andhere might have commenced our tale, but that we wished to show thereader "how love does not level the proud, but raiseth the humble. "

When Signor Latrezzi learned what had occurred during hisabsence-that his most darling wish was about to be frustrated, andthe work of years overthrown, as it were, in a single day--his angerknew no bounds, nor did he attempt to control it. He threw aside themask, and the storm burst about the devoted head of Florinda in allits wrath and fury. 

The uncle could hardly realize the present state of affairs, sounexpected was it to him, Was it to this end he had played thehypocrite so many years, that he had given away to all the capricesof a wayward girl, and humored her most annoying fancies? He couldscarcely contain himself. Here was a denouement for the proud oldnoble-his niece engaged to an American artist; his Italian bloodboiled at the thought. Petro, too, as we have intimated, littledreamed of the fire that had been kindled in Florinda's heart-aflame that all the coldness of her uncle, ay, and his assumedauthority, too, could not possibly quench. 

She was an inmate now of her uncle's household, or rather, he hadfull charge of her father's house, where she resided; and though inmany respects entirely independent of him, still, in the matter offorming so important a connection, she hardly dared to proceedopenly and at once contrary to his expressed wish, and even orders. Immediately on her uncle's return to Florence, Florinda had removedfrom the duke's palace to that of her forefathers, in order toassume, in some degree, the direction of her own affairs. HereCarlton was peremptorily refused admittance by the directions of heruncle; and thus poor Florinda was little less than a prisoner, inher own house, not daring to meet Carlton, if she could have doneso. Thus commenced a drama which was to have a tragical end; andFlorinda and Carlton found a sudden end to their late happy andjoyful intercourse which neither had anticipated. 

"Signor Latrezzi, " said the duke one day to Florinda's uncle, "thisyoung American is a noble fellow. "

"Doubtless, if your highness thinks so. "

"Think so-I know so, signor!"

"Your highness has much befriended him. "

"No more than his merit deserves. "

Signor Latrezzi bowed, but said nothing. 

"Signor, you have observed his intimacy with Florinda?"

"Excellenza, yes. "

"A fine couple they would make. "

"Does your excellenza think so?"

"To be sure I do; and if I mistake not, so does the lady. "

"I know not that, excellenza. "

"Ask her then, Signor Latrezzi. Either I cannot read the language ofher fair face, or she loves the artist. "

"But he's a foreigner, excellenza. "

"What of that?"

"Nothing, save that Florinda is nobly born, and bears some of thebest and oldest blood of Italy. "

"Time will settle the matter, " said the duke, turning away. 

Signor Latrezzi having ascertained that the duke favored thealliance of his niece with the American artist, was too good asubject-or rather, too experienced a courtier-to attempt openlybefore his master to oppose the matter, taking good care to avoidany interference with one whose wish, when expressed, was law. Hisopposition to the proposed marriage was, however, none the lessrigorous; and he determined, on such occasions as he could do so, toexercise his spirit with impunity, and he was often heard to saythat the affair should never take place, even if he was himselfobliged to call out the young American to single combat. 

The thought of the bare possibility of the connection as sanctionedby the duke, so embittered his feelings as to render himdisagreeable to all about him. His conscious pride and self-interestboth prompted him in this emergency; for in the case of Florinda'smarrying Petro, as we have already intimated, there would be someimportant pecuniary interest of his own benefited thereby-and thenhis old aristocratic notions were shocked at the prospect of theplebeian match. 

Now was poor Carlton cornered on the chequer-board of life, and hemust play boldly, if he would reach the desired goal. He had thoseto deal with who possessed every facility and advantage successfullyto battle him in his hopes and plans. But then he was no longer thepoor painter, who did not know where his next meal was to beobtained; he was no longer the hungry artist-the butt and jest ofhis old companions. No! he was under the patronage of the GrandDuke, whose personal friendship he could boast. His brush broughthim daily-or as often as he was pleased to exert himself-large sumsof money; and his well-lined purse was significant of his unboundedsuccess in his profession as an artist. 

Carlton knew as well as those who had ever possessed the means, howbest to employ them when at his command. His noble person was nowgarbed in the rich dress of a court favorite, while the plenty andcomfort he now enjoyed had again filled his sunken cheek, and lit upthe fire of his bright hazel eye; his hair, long and curling abouthis spirited and intelligent face, was the pride of Florinda, andthe envy of the whole court. 

His fellow-students of the academy were also but too happy toreceive the least attention from their late companion; he now movedin a grade of society far above them-a circle which was asinaccessible to them as the throne itself. What was his return tothem for the spirit they had ever manifested towards him? Did heretaliate and put them to shame? He did not retaliate, and yet heput them to shame-ay, his was a noble revenge; he returned them goodfor evil. 

Carlton's kindness to those who had so illy treated him wasunbounded; they received no such return from him-far from it. Heencouraged in every way their studies, and even condescendedgratuitously to teach them, and they were very ready and happy tothrive under his instruction. Thus did he heap coals of fire ontheir heads, showing them what sort of a spirit they had trampled onin its adversity. 

"Whither away, in such haste?" asked one young artist of another inthe streets of Florence. 

"To Signor Carlton's, the American artist, " was the reply. 

"All Florence is after him-what want you?"

"He is to give a finishing touch to a bit of canvass for me. "

"That's clever of him. "

"Yes, since no one can do so well as he, " was the readyacknowledgement. 

Thus were the tables completely turned. Little did his formercompanions and fellow-students dream of this transition of goodfortune to the share of him they had so lately scoffed at in theopen streets of Florence. One, to see their ready obeisance now, andtheir earnest endeavors to please him, would hardly think they hadever treated him with less respect. 

So goes the world. If ill fortune betide us, how many stand ready togive us a push on our downward course, and to scoff at our misery;but let the tide turn and set favorably on our bark, and none are soready to do obeisance as those very curs who have barked and growledat us the loudest. Carlton, the court favorite, the unrivalledartist, the now liberal and wealthy Carlton, was a very differentperson from the threadbare artist who turned from his companions onthe piazza at noonday. 

He retraced his steps towards the grand gallery at that time, faintand hungry, because he had not the means to procure for himself adinner, avoiding his fellow-artists to escape the mortification ofexpressing the extent of his poverty and want. 

Carlton was in doubt as to the most proper course for him to pursue. He hardly dared to lay the matter in its present form before theduke, lest it might seem impertinent and obtrusive in him towardsone who had already extended unprecedented kindness and protectiontowards him; and yet he knew no other source upon which he mightrely. In this dilemma, Carlton grew quite dejected. He was one ofthose persons who, notwithstanding he possessed a strong mind anddetermination of purpose, was easily elated or depressed in hisspirits; and the present state of affairs rendered him sad enough. 

He was rudely repulsed in every endeavor to gain an audience ofFlorinda by the menials of Signor Latrezzi-who had been instructedto this effect by their master-and Carlton was obliged to contenthimself with an epistolary communication, having to conduct eventhis in secret. 

At length one day, finding the duke in a happy mood and at leisure, he frankly stated the matter to him as it actually existed, andbegged of him to advise him what course to pursue in the case. 

"Signor Carlton, " said the duke, kindly, after hearing him to theend, "I have little love for this uncle of Florinda's, and thereforeavoid any issue with him, or I would openly express my wishes onthis point. But as it is, Signor Americano, there are fleet horsesin Florence, and ready postilions about the gates of the city, whoknow the route to Bologna over the mountains! Thou hast ridden in acabriolet, signor?"

"A cabriolet?" repeated Carlton, inquiringly. 

"Yes, there are plenty in Florence. "

"Your highness is pleased to be facetious. "

"Not at all. "

"Then why speak of cabriolets in this connection?"

"Canst not take the hint?"

"Your excellenza speaks in riddles. "

"One of thy discernment, Signor Carlton, should understand me. "

"Would your excellenza have me clo--"

"I would not have you do anything but that which your own judgmentshould approve, " interrupted the duke. 

"Thanks, excellenza, I understand you. "

"You may be assured of my friendship in all cases when it can bereasonably exercised, " continued the duke. 

"Your excellenza is ever kind. "

A new field was opened for Carlton, and he was as much elated as hehad heretofore been depressed; and he resolved to take the hint ofthe duke, and bring matters to an issue in the most summary manner. 

Young Petro Giampetti immediately on his return to Florence, havinglearned the state of affairs between Carlton and Florinda, hadresolved at once to challenge his rival; being an expert swordsman, and knowing Carlton's peaceful occupation, he made no doubt that hecould easily despatch him in single combat, and thus rid himself ofone who, to say the least, was a very dangerous rival. 

In this frame of mind, Petro sought some cause of difference withCarlton other than the true one at issue-a quarrel could hardly beraised, inasmuch as the latter remained ignorant even of thepretensions of Petro, or the design of Florinda's uncle up to thetime of their return from Bologna. 

Failing otherwise to accomplish his purpose, Petro, whose standingand connection served him as a key to the royal presence, sought tooffer at court some slight to Carlton, so public and marked as torender it necessary for him to demand satisfaction after the code ofItalian honor. Three times, in pursuance of this object, he hadvainly endeavored to accomplish his purpose; but each time, Carlton, basking in the sunshine of royal favor, turned by without notice theintended insult in such a manner as to show himself as feeling farabove an insult from such a source, and again in so cool anddiplomatic a manner, as to turn the very game upon poor Petrohimself, who found that nothing save some open and decided offensecould bring matters to an issue. 

"You don't seem to get along very fast in this little matter, " saidone of his friends rather tauntingly to him. 

"No, it doesn't look much like a draw-game between them, either, "said another friend, venturing a pun. 

"Curse him, " growled Petro, "he's a coward, and wont take offence. What can a man do in such a case as that?"

"Carlton doesn't look to me just like a coward, " said one of thespeakers; "but he doesn't want to fight you, Petro. "

"Can't help it, " said Petro, "he must do it. "

"Well, then, give him a chance, and have it over. "

"I'll improve the first opportunity, believe me. "

But Petro did not further annoy Carlton that evening; the coolnessand self-possession he evinced quite nonplussed the angry Italian. 

CHAPTER IX. 

THE DUEL. 

What folly 'tis to hazard life for ill. 

-Timon of Athens. 

AS we have said, Petro, finding that nothing short of an open anddownright insult could bring Carlton to be the challenging party, therefore resolved to make a bold attempt to accomplish this. He wasrevolving this matter over in his mind, when an event occurred whichled him to be the challenger in fact. He was strolling home from theweekly cordon of the Grand Duke one evening, and was just turning anangle of his uncle's palace walls, when hearing the voice of afemale in answer to that of a man, he paused, and following thesound, discovered Florinda leaning from a balcony in the lower rangeof the palace, and in close conversation with his hated rival, Carlton. This was sufficient, under the circumstances, to raise allhis fiery spirit, and he determined that it should serve him as apretext for a quarrel. 

Placing himself hard by where he knew Carlton must pass in hisleave-taking of the palace, he patiently awaited his coming; and buta short time elapsed before Carlton, bidding good night to Florinda, was hastening from the spot, when he encountered Petro, whose darkcountenance was the very picture of rage, while his large, dark eyeswere wild with inward passion. 

"Signor Carlton!"

"Signor Petro!"

They exclaimed, on confronting each other. 

Carlton for a moment was thrown off his habitual guard, and losinghis temper, was about to retort upon Petro with interest, both infrown and, if need be, with blows also. But recalling himself, heassumed his usual precaution, and looked upon the angry Italiancoolly, and without the least exhibition of temper. 

"Well, Signor Carlton. "

"Well, Signor Petro. "

"Your mock me, signor. "

"You mock me, signor. "

"Signor, you are my enemy. "

"You seem to wish me so. "

"This talk will not serve for you, signor. "

"If you like it not, it were best for you to step on one side, and Iwill pass. "

The Italian bit his lips with suppressed rage, and seemed too angryto trust even his voice; but he did not remain long silent. 

"Signor Americano, " said Petro, warmly, "you have insulted my uncleand myself by this secret interview with Signora Florinda, and Idemand of you immediate satisfaction for it. "

"Signor Petro, I have no cause for contention with you, " was thereply of Carlton. "I know you love not the lady, and you are equallyaware of her feelings towards you. Why then, I ask, should there bestrife between us upon this subject? Surely, you would not seek thehand of one who does not love you! This is inconsistent, SignorPetro. "

"Do you accept my challenge, or shall I brand you as a coward in thestreets of Florence, " was the abrupt and passionate rejoinder. "Itwould sound bravely, by our lady, to write coward against the nameyou have rendered so popular, sir artist, among the nobilita inFlorence. "

"I will have no contention with thee, " said Carlton, his feelingsstruggling warmly with his determination to avoid the course whichhis early education had taught him to regard with the utmostabhorrence. 

"Then I will brand thee as a coward!"

"Until you do that, I shall never fight you, " said Carlton, calmly. "I would rather lose my hand than draw the blood of one related byany ties to her I love; but if it must be so, you can take your owncounsel. "

"This is fine language, signor. "

"It is honest language. "

"I should require other evidence to make me think so. "

"Because you cannot appreciate the feelings that dictate it. "

"In what respect?"

"As they are caused by my regard for Signora Florinda. "

"It is well to assume a virtue, if we have it not, " said theItalian, scornfully. 

"I assume nothing, Signor Petro. "

"Flatter not yourself that you can escape me by this assumed tone offeeling, Signor Americano. "

"You have my answer, signor. "

"I shall take an early opportunity to keep you at your word, " wasthe menacing reply, and they separated. 

Carlton would rather have engaged with any other person in an affairof this kind than with Petro, for obvious reasons; and, as he saidto him, besides which, he had the greatest aversion to "affairs ofhonor, " but from principle only, for his was as brave a heart asever drew sword. 

Petro at length hit upon a plan which must necessarily bring on thedesired meeting. Accordingly, at the cordon of the Grand Duke, onthe following week, at the Pitti Palace, when Carlton entered thegorgeous apartments, a murmur ran through the assembly, raised bythe friends of Petro, who had preconcerted the plan, of "Coward, coward!"

It was uttered, as we have said, in whispers, but it is a word thatcan be heard a long distance. The young American did not even changecolor, but turning his bright and sparkling eyes upon some of theprincipal offenders, he gave them a look that touched them keenly. He did not evince by any outward appearance how deeply his pride waswounded, but he felt it at heart none the less severely. He evenlooked more cheerful than was his wont, conversing gaily with theladies of the court. His fine noble countenance was lit up withadditional spirit, and his friends even complimented him on hishappy appearance. Yet it was all forced-ay, a lie that his proudheart compelled him to. 

"What a goodly outside falsehood hath!" How many there are likeCarlton at that moment! While they smile, they but hide a ragingpassion within. A smile may cover up the wildest storm of thespirit, as well as show forth its own sunshine!

The giddy dance went on, and gayety was the mistress of the hour. Carlton mingled in the dance, and even by good chance succeeded ingaining the hand of Florinda for a set. Her uncle, fearing thedispleasure of the duke, avoided any public opposition as we havebefore said, to the attentions of Carlton; consequently in public heenjoyed her society as one friend may enjoy that of another, whilethe world are by. The hours flew by as hours only fly along thehappy, until the time had nearly arrived for the guests to depart, when Carlton, coolly walking up to Petro, who stood in an exposedsituation, said, in a tone not to be mistaken:

"Signor Petro, follow me!"

"Si, Signor Americano, " was the prompt reply. 

Both left the hall together, the friends of Petro aloneunderstanding the probable design of the movement. The two sought asecluded cafe in silence, and then settled the preliminaries for ameeting, or duel, on the following morning, in which Petro declaredone of them should fall. 

"I would have escaped this encounter for your sake as well as myown, " said Carlton, after the arrangements were concluded. "I knowvery well that you have a reputation for being an expert swordsman, but I fear not. Justice is stronger than art, and you will find itso, Signor Petro, on the morrow. "

"I do not wish to anticipate, Signor Americano, but I must advisethee to prepare for death on the morrow. "

"True, Signor Petro, " said Carlton, earnestly, "neither of usknows what the morrow may bring forth. "

"Signor, " said Petro, now in evident good humor at his anticipatedsuccess, "you should have chosen the pistol, to have placed yourselfin any possibility on equal terms with me. "

"I can use either, " was the reply. 

"Ay, as a child would use them. What has thy profession to do witharms, that thou shouldst ever deign to know their use? It is not yettoo late-say, shall it be pistols? You can yet choose, " said Petro, touched with that spirit of honor which would sometimes actuate him. 

"I have already spoken on that point, " said Carlton. 

"Very well, then, signor, with the sword. But in that case, the gamewill possess but little interest, being all on one side. "

"To-morrow's sun can speak more fittingly of these things than wecan do to-night, " was Carlton's reply. 

"You bear yourself with assurance, signor. "

"We will not hold any controversy, Signor Petro. "

"Until to-morrow. "

"At the appointed time I shall be ready. "

"Be sure I shall expect you. "

"We understand each other on that point. "

"Hold, will you bring weapons, or shall I procure them?"

"Our seconds can arrange for us. "

"True. "

Thus saying, the two separated to meet on the following morning at asecluded spot in the Apennines, which rise gracefully from the verygates of Florence, gradually attaining to an immense height, andmaking their home among the clouds. To have travelled where we wouldfain have taken the reader at the outset, one must have sailed inthe southern seas among the islands, have run the Gibraltar passage, and seen the blue water that lies among the Italy mountains. He musthave looked upon the Apennines from the sea, and run down the coastthat teems with the recollections of three thousand years. 

The mist was slowly creeping up the mountain's side on the followingmorning, scarcely three hours from the time that the duke's guestshad departed, when Petro and his friends, closely followed byCarlton and his companion, sought the appointed rendezvous for themeeting. The cool, fresh breeze of the morning air, thatstrengthened as they ascended the mountain, one would think shouldcool the passions of any creature. Not so with Petro; for theItalian fire of his spirit was up-the dark, deep passions of hisnature-and nought but blood could appease their cravings. 

The spot was gained, and each made the usual preliminaryarrangements-all being prepared, the two approached each other. Carlton had disrobed himself of coat and vest, and now stood beforehis antagonist clothed only in his lower garments and linen. Petrolaughingly told his companions that he could punish the Americanowith his garments on, not deeming the task of sufficient weight tocompel him to remove his tight-fitting upper garments. A few momentswere passed in the usual guards and thrusts, when anon commenced thefeint, the ward, as each grew warmer in the contest. 

It was evident to all at the outset that Carlton as well as Petrowas master of his weapon. This much had surprised those who hadsupposed him not possessed of the least knowledge of the exercise. But Petro found him far more than a match for all his boasted skilland experience, but with great astonishment, he continued to exerthimself to the utmost. 

It was a singular scene, that presented by the two combatants thusarraigned before each other in mortal combat. The Italian heated, his eyes and face swollen with excitement and passion, while hisantagonist was as calm and unmoved in temper, as though he werefencing with the foils, and only for pleasure. It was a tragicscene, as evincing the brute nature to which man can bring himself. 

In the heat of the contest, Petro soon lost his temper, whileCarlton, cool and collected, parried his wild and headlong thrustswith consummate skill; and at length, after showing him howfruitless were all his efforts to wound him, Carlton by a masterlymovement disarmed his antagonist of his blade, at the same timestriking the left hand of the Italian a blow with the flat of hissword that laid it bare to the bone!

This put a stop to the duel for a few moments, when Petro, almostbeside himself with rage, now threw from him his upper garments inimitation of Carlton, and having had his hand properly dressed, yetsmarting under the severe wound he had received, resumed his sword--Carlton remaining in the meantime resting upon his sword, careless, as it were, whether the fight was resumed or not. 

"Signor Petro, " said Carlton, when they approached each other thesecond time, "it is evident to your friends, I presume, that you areno match for me in the weapons we hold. I advise you to withdrawfrom the contest. You have already expended your blood in thevindication of this system of honor, and wounded as you now are, canhardly do yourself justice. "

"Stand to your defence!" said the enraged Petro, whose blood was nowcompletely up. And unheeding the generous proposal and language ofhis antagonist, he rushed upon Carlton almost without warning, thusessaying to take advantage of him; but the quick and practised eyeof the latter saved him, and the rain of blows and thrusts thatPetro made at him were as harmless as hail-stones upon a slatedroof. Carlton acted entirely on the defensive; had it beenotherwise, he could at any moment have drawn the heart's blood ofhis enemy, who, only intent on the life of his successful rival, strove not at all to protect himself from the sword of Carlton whilethey fought. 

Carlton again permitted him to work thus in his wild fury for someminutes, when at length, by another masterly effort with his weapon, he again disarmed his antagonist, throwing his blade over the headsof the company, and immediately, apparently with the same effort, hewounded Petro in the sword arm with such force and earnestness, thatit fell powerless by his side. Though severely wounded in both arms, still in his wild rage the Italian could hardly be persuaded toleave the ground peaceably. 

Thus ended the duel between Carlton and Petro. 

CHAPTER X. 

THE ELOPEMENT. 

Not vanquished, but cozened and beguiled. 

-King Lear. 

THE duel described in the last chapter, it will be remembered, wasnot sought by Carlton. Indeed, he would gladly have avoided it, ifpossible-first and foremost, because it was diametrically contraryto his principles and sense of moral rectitude; and secondly, because his opponent was indirectly kin to her whom he loved aboveall in life. Thus much we say to place our hero rightly before thereader, who should not look upon him inconsistently. 

The critical reader may perhaps question the propriety of Carlton'swounding Petro at all, inasmuch as he is represented to be able tohave defended himself with comparative ease from the heated andheadstrong Italian's sword. In answer to this, we would say, thatbesides there being always the possibility of his being wounded bythe enemy's sword, the very fact of his returning to the fight whenseverely wounded, showed that Carlton had rightly judged of hischaracter, its vindictive impulses, when he deemed both woundsnecessary. He gave the second one unwillingly; and not one momentbefore he thought it absolutely necessary to do so; all those on theground could have borne testimony that there was scarcely an instantof time that Carlton had not Petro's life at his command, if he hadchosen to take it. 

"Why, Carlton, " said a merry-faced Englishman, who had been hiscompanion during the interview, and who was now walking with himdown the mountain's side, "I could hardly believe my eyes to seethee such a master of thy weapon. How hast thou possibly attained tosuch extraordinary proficiency with the sword?"

"You remember the little Frenchman, who lived so long with me?"asked Carlton. "He who had his snuff-box ever in his hand?"

"That I do, " said his companion; "and a merry, studious, jocund, lazy, cowardly and brave little fellow he was. In short, I believethere was no quality, however contradictory-good, bad, orindifferent-that he did not possess. "

"He was a bundle of inconsistencies, " added Carlton, smiling at hisfriend's description. 

The truth was, he had accurately described a certain class of thatversatile nation, the French, which are often met with in everycountry, wanderers or exiles from home. While we write, we have onein our own mind, well known to our good citizens who is familiarlydesignated by the sobriquet of "the Emperor. "

"Well, Carlton, what of our little knight of the snuff-box, eh?"

"You remember that I was poor in those days, and the clever littleFrenchman offered to teach me the sword exercise, if I could teachhim to speak English. It was a bargain, and so did he, and so did I, until I flatter myself both became proficients in their distinctivebranches of learning. Carnot taught the exercise in the Grand Army;so he graduated in a good school, and was indeed an excellent masterof the weapon. It has been my only recreation and exercise fornearly a year; and I confess I feel quite at home with a good bladein my hand. "

"You use it with wondrous skill. "

"Do you think so?"

"Certainly; even his second complimented you, and said blade wasnever more skilfully handled. "

"This Petro Giampetti is also a good swordsman, " said Carlton, "andwith a little more coolness would carry a sure point. The pistol isthe weapon for your hot-headed fellow; he does not find a chancewhile using it to work himself into a passion, as with the sword. "

"Yes; but then with powder and ball, the veriest dunce inChristendom may blow out a gentleman's brain, while it takes anartiste to run one through the body handsomely. Give me the sword, Carlton-I've a great horror, in such cases, of 'villanoussaltpetre. '"

"I have no taste in such matters; but knowing the boasted prowess ofSignor Petro with the sword, I preferred that weapon, though I thinkyou have seen me do some pretty things with the pistol, Brownlow? Itwas a silly fancy I had when a boy to learn its use. "

"An' I had carte and tierces at my fingers' ends as thou hast, Iwould give a thousand pounds, " said his companion. 

"I'll tell thee how to gain it. "

"By what means?"

"Shut thyself up as I have done for months together, with nocompanion save the brush, and no money to purchase books forperusal, and thou couldst learn it as readily as I have done; alwayssupposing you to have as expert a teacher as that little Frenchman, Carnot, who in all else was anything but a companion-ay, a regularbore. But in mastering my aversion for him, why, you see, Brownlow, I became master of the weapon. "

"Very true, but I have no Carnot to teach me; and to-day I see whatI lose by the want of one. "

"I'll teach it to thee, myself, Brownlow, when both of us haveleisure, " said Carlton. 

"Do so, and I will repay thee at any cost. "

And this, too, was one of those very artists, who but a few monthsprevious had scoffed and jeered at him in the open streets ofFlorence. 

How beautiful was the prospect that spread itself out to their viewas the mist cleared away from their path down the mountain. Belowthem lay, in all its beauty, the city of Florence, the pride ofTuscany, and the Val d'Arno, crowded with white palaces, whose wallslay sparkling in the morning sun like the trembling waves of thesea. 

Carlton returned to his lodgings, which were now the best and mostcapacious apartments of an ancient palace, the principal windows ofwhich opened fronting the tall eminence of Fiesole, crowned by thegay old monastery where Milton passed many weeks while gatheringmaterials for "Paradise Lost. "

Here Carlton had his studio, the daily resort of the beauty andfashion of Florence, while his home was also the receptacle of allthat taste could suggest, or the most fastidious could desire, contrasting strongly with his late want and suffering. Even theGrand Duke honored his studio with an occasional visit, whichrendered the other artists of the city more jealous and envious thanever. 

About a month had passed since the duel upon the mountain-side, andduring that time Carlton was only able to communicate with Florindathrough means of epistolary correspondence. For some time he hademployed a servant of the house of Carrati as his messenger; but thefellow being bribed by the agents of Petro, intercepted the letters, and now Carlton was forced to become his own messenger or bearer ofthe letters he himself wrote. He was now urgent in hiscommunications to the gentle Florinda that she should elope from herhome and become united to him; and their arrangements were nearlycompleted, as the following letter, written at this time, will show:

"DEAR FLORINDA:-I am more and more convinced of the propriety of thecourse I have urged upon you. You say that such a plan mayjeopardize your largo property. This is a mistake, I am fullyconvinced; and even were it otherwise, what need we care forwealth, if we are sure for a sufficiency for life, and of eachother's love? I am highly gratified, dearest, that you have atlength consented to this arrangement. I will, in the meantime, makeall necessary arrangements for our journey. I count the momentsuntil we shall meet again. Guard your health, dear Florinda, andbelieve me, Devotedly yours, CARLTON. "

Carlton then proceeded immediately to perfect his plan, and to makeall necessary arrangements for the proposed elopement, and inanother letter to Signora Florinda, he made all preliminaryarrangements with her also, so that there might be nomisunderstanding in the case. 

It was night, and the pale moon, as if in a fickle mood, was smilingand scowling by turns, as the fleecy clouds hurried swiftly pasther. The fitful and sudden glances of light appeared doubly brightfrom the transient shadows made by the officious clouds. They, deeming that the moon took too much credit to herself as queen' oflight for the hour, designed apparently to let her know that shereigned only at their will and pleasure. 

Now bursting through their veiling power, the moon would for amoment cast long deep shadows down the narrow streets, and here andthere would light up for an instant some antique palace front withdazzling richness, and as quickly die away again, as though it wereat play with the earth. It was difficult in this alternating oflight and darkness to use the eye so as to discern objects withcertainty; and an individual could with difficulty be recognizedbetween the changes, however near he might be to the observer. Thecharacter of the night was wild and threatening-a night for evildeeds. 

The gates of the city of Florence were just closing, and thegathering clouds had entirely obscured the light of the moon, as acaleche-and-four, with an extra postilion, dashed off from the Borg'ognisanti, on the mountain-road towards Bologna. The inmates of thevehicle exchanged not a word. The female seemed to be affrighted atthe headlong speed with which the double team drew the light calecheup the mountain's side, while a postilion sat so near, and theattendant at the lady's side, together seemed an excuse for thesilence, even if they were that which any one would have pronouncedthem, a runaway couple. 

Anon the gentleman would offer some polite attention to hiscompanion, but without the exchange of a syllable; and, indeed, words could hardly have been heard at the rate they were drivingthrough the dark, on account of the loud noise of the wheels andhorses' feet among the stones and uneven soil of the rising ground. On rolled the vehicle with the speed of the wind--every one knowshow Florentine horses can go when they have a mind to-until atlength it pulled up at a highland roadside inn of most uninvitingcharacter. The lady was immediately assisted in silence from thevehicle, and scarcely had they entered the low, dark parlor of theinn before the gentleman whispered to her:

"The priest is here, and will unite us immediately. "

"But why this haste, dear Carlton?" said Florinda, for it was her. 

"There is no time to lose, " was the whispered response. 

"But should not--"

"Hush, Florinda!"

"But Carlton--"

"He is here, " was the whispered interruption. 

And in a moment more a priest made his appearance, and, withoutgiving either time to unrobe themselves, had they been so inclined, commenced the marriage service. The ring was given in that darkroom-so dark that the features even of the minister of the churchcould not be discerned-the prayer was made, and the two weresolemnly declared to be husband and wife. The lady had essayedseveral times to speak aloud, as we have seen, to express somefeeling or wish, and she seemed as if anticipating someencouragement from him she was about to wed; but she was each timehushed by the speed with which everything was done, or by a gentlewhisper from her companion. The ceremony completed, the signora drewback to a chair, overcome by her swift ride, and the emotions thatcrowded themselves upon her throbbing and trembling heart. 

At this moment there entered the apartment the tall figure of a manapparently advanced is years, who, turning his back upon Florinda, conversed for a moment with the bridegroom, then both turningtowards Florinda at the moment a couple of lamps were introducedinto the room, when lo! she beheld before her Signor Latrezzi, heruncle, and her husband, Petro Giampetti! With a scream of horror andaffright, she fell fainting upon the floor. 

The uncle and nephew were both filled with horror, for both believedthat they had killed her, as they gazed upon her pale and lifelessform. Either would lave sacrificed everything to have taken all backagain, and restored her to life and happiness. Can this be thee, Petro Giampetti, trembling like a child-nay, a tear actually wettingthat swarthy check, as you chafe the pulse, and bathe the temples ofthat insensible girl? And hast thou really so tender a heart, andyet couldst enter into so hard-hearted a conspiracy? And thou, Signor Latrezzi, well mayst thou hide thy face in thy hands, forthou art the greatest sinner here; thine has been the hand that hathdone this; that hath triumphed over this poor girl, whom thoushouldst have protected. 

"Holy virgin, " cried Petro, "she's dead!"

"Say not so, " eagerly exclaimed her uncle. 

"God forgive us!" answered Petro. 

"Ay, we have need of forgiveness, if we have brought on suchextremity, " said the uncle, trying to raise the lifeless head oftheir inanimate victim. 

Leaving the guilty, nephew and uncle for a while, we will take thereader back for a moment in the thread of our story. 

CHAPTER XI. 

THE INTERCEPTED LETTER. 

Any man that can write may answer a letter. 

-Romeo and Juliet. 

IN such a tale as we now tell you, gentle reader, and when writtenwithin such limits, it is impossible to keep each portion of theplot equally advanced, or rather not to anticipate certain results. There is also an advantage in this mode of arrangement which perhapsis in itself sufficient excuse for the author. It heightens theplot, and renders it more absorbing to the reader, by suddenlylaying before him some startling tableau and seeming inconsistency, but which the sequel of the story renders plain and reconcilablewith other portions of the story. 

Having said thus much for the scene we have presented to the readerat the roadside inn on the Apennines, we must now go back with himto the night on which Carlton delivered his letter of arrangement toFlorinda, and thus render our tale plain to the comprehension ofall. 

Carlton, as we have said perfected his plan for the proposedelopement, and in another letter to Florinda he communicated theparticulars, delivering the missive with his own hands asheretofore. There was a certain hour agreed upon between them, inwhich Signora Florinda was to be at the balcony of her apartmentevery evening; and thus, although Carlton might not be able to holdmuch conversation with her, yet he could deliver any written paperhe might desire, without the fear of interruption or detection. 

It was necessary to accomplish all with the utmost secrecy in orderto ensure success. Now Petro had been led to suspect by somecircumstances, that the meetings between Carlton and his cousin hadbeen renewed. He determined to ascertain if this was the casethrough his own personal observation; and on the occasion of thedelivery of the letter in question, Petro being on the watch, discovered Carlton in the act, and also overheard the followingappointment made by him with Florinda:

"I will call for an answer at eleven, signora; I hope you mayperfectly comprehend my plan and fully acquiesce in it. "

"At eleven?"

"At eleven, signora. "

"Hark, heard you not some one?"

"No, I heard nothing. "

"It sounded very near to the balcony. "

"In the street?"

"Yes; I am sure I heard someone. "

"Some passer-by, Florinda, " said Carlton. 

"Pray thee be careful, Carlton, we may be watched. "

"I will be discreet; do not fear. "

"There, the figure is turning yonder street!"

"Ay, and pauses to observe us; I will away. You will remember. "

"I will await you at that time, Carlton. "

"Good night, Florinda, " whispered Carlton, pressing the handextended to him from over the balcony, just within reach. 

"Good night. " And they parted from each other, not daring to holdfurther conversation lest they might be observed, and their futureplans suspected and defeated by the agents of her uncle. 

Petro determined to prevent this meeting, or rather to be present atit, and he hurried from the spot without meeting Carlton, resolvingto be punctually at the terrace a little before eleven. It wasevident that he had formed some plan in which he placed muchconfidence, by the revengeful smile that played about his scornfullips. 

It was near the hour of eleven that night, when Carlton drew nearthe little terrace that jutted from the window of Florinda'sapartment, He saw by the pale moonlight reflected upon the clock ofthe neighboring church, that it lacked yet some fifteen minutes ofthe appointed time for the meeting, and humming lightly to himself, to kill the minutes, he sat down within a shady angle of the palacewall. His approach was noted by the watchful Petro who, as soon ashe saw him seated, determined, if possible, to obtain possession ofthe answer which he knew Carlton awaited!

To accomplish this purpose, required much cunning and prudence; buthe was fully equal to the plan-for what Italian has not cunning andintrigue in his natural disposition? In pursuance of this object, heapproached the little terrace before alluded to, and which was atrifle higher than his head, and situated at this time within theshadow of the moon. By a slight and almost imperceptible noise, heessayed to attract the attention of Florinda, and led her to supposethat he was Carlton, and there awaiting the expected answeraccording to appointment, The wily Italian gathered the ample foldsof his rich cloak about his person, so as to partially cover hisface, upon which there was a most demoniac smile, picturing revenge, hate and every evil passion, to which a heavy moustache lentadditional fierceness. 

In one hand he held a keen stiletto, while he extended the otherabove his head to receive the letter from the hand of Florinda. Itwas necessary for her to reach some distance over the edge of thesmall projecting terrace, in order to place it in his hand; this shedid, using the customary precaution, and not venturing to utter aword as she heard footsteps approaching her room. Petro having thuspossessed himself of the letter, retired to a place from whence hecould watch the movements of Carlton without himself being observedby the young American. 

As the clock of the neighboring church struck eleven, Carlton sprangto his feet, and assuming his place under the terrace, awaited thecoming of Florinda, little suspecting the trick that had been playedupon him. But after awaiting somewhat impatiently for nearly anhour, he was compelled to return to his lodgings, almost tremblingwith fear lest some serious accident had befallen her he loved, orat least that their plan might have been discovered, and shesubjected to consequent ill-treatment and fresh rigor by her uncle. All this while Florinda, as little suspecting the fraud that hadbeen played upon them as Carlton himself, was quite contented andhappy in the anticipated success of their plan, and dropped tosleep, thinking of him, after humbling herself before the throne ofgrace in fervent prayer-that key to the gates of Paradise. 

Florinda was naturally of a devotional character; and this feelinghad grown and strengthened by her companionship with the lateduchess, who was noted for her piety and goodness-and in fact cameto her death, as is well known, by too much rigor imposed uponherself in devotional penance!

Petro, after satisfying himself that the ruse had not beendiscovered, sought his own apartment in the palace to read theletter he had thus possessed himself of. He hesitated for a momentbefore he broke the seal-we will do him the justice to say so-evenin this stage of his conduct, his sense of honor had not entirelyleft him. It had not yet become so blunted as to render him entirelyreckless in the debasing deed he was about to perform. With a sortof desperate resolution-for he had never before done so mean anact-he opened the seal. The letter was brief, and ran as follows:

DEAR CARLTON:-I leave every necessary arrangement to you. I willmeet you as you propose to-morrow evening at the hour of ten. Iwould for certain reasons that it might be later, but the gates ofthe city I am aware close at that hour. Have a care for your ownhealth and safety, Dear Carlton. I will meet you with a singleattendant on whom I can rely, at the appointed time, and at the gateopening upon the Borg' ognisanti. Affectionately thine, "FLORINDA. "

"So, so; the bird had nearly flown from us, " said Petro, as he readthis epistle. "Here's a plot; and if I do not so counter-plot as torender it of no avail, other than for the furtherance of ny owndesign, then I am no man. It is well that I took this matter in handat this time. A day-nay, an hour later might have been too late. Singular coincidence that should have brought me to the place andthe subject at the most opportune moment. Little does this fellowthink of the rod that is in pickle for him. But I will be even withhim. I will not sleep while he pursues the game; vigilance alonemust gain me my object. No, no, Signor Artist, you cannot thus pluckthis beautiful flower unchallenged; you are observed, and yourobject is understood, Scheming requires counter-scheming; and youshall have that to your heart's content. Italy against America, bythe virgin; but we will make this a national quarrel, if it benecessary. "

He gazed upon the letter thoughtfully for some moments. 

"Let me see, " he continued, "this is not a very difficult hand toimitate. " And he commenced to write different words and formcapitals after the style of Florinda's note. "I think I can do it, "he said at length. "But the seal-how shall I manage that? Stay, Ican use this same one with a little care. Capital!" he exclaimed. "I'll have this business all in my own hands. " And Petro Giampettilaughed outright at the prospect of his success in this vile plotagainst his cousin. 

Petro was an expert and practical penman, being, as we have said, private secretary to his uncle, Signor Latrezzi; and thus beingquite an expert in the use of the pen, he was the more easily ableto prosecute his dishonest purpose, Thus he commenced carefully towrite a note addressed to Carlton, and purporting to come fromFlorinda, in answer to his note of that evening. With her note openbefore him, and carefully noticing its style and manner, both inchirography and composition, he cunningly traced the followinglines:

"DEAR CARLTON:--In consequence of an unforeseen accident which I neednot now explain, I shall not be able to meet you until to-morrownight, when I will do so at the hour named, and at the placedesignated. Be careful of your own health and safety, and do notattempt to see me until the time we meet at the gate opening on theBorg' ognisanti. 

"Affectionately thine, FLORINDA. "

This he addressed after the style of Florinda's note, sealed veryingeniously with the identical seal she had used on the note whichhe had intercepted, as we have seen, and forwarded it early on thefollowing morning by one whom he could trust to Carlton, thus fullycarrying out his plot of deception against them both. 

Petro's heart somehow throbbed strangely in his breast, and hisconscience was very ill at case. He felt that he was enacting thecoward's part in this business, and already half wished himself outof it. But if the game was a bold and hazardous one, so was theprize a brilliant one; and so he closed his eye to remorse, andspurred forward. 

Thus we blindly pursue the goal of our wishes, little heeding thecost, though we know that retribution is sure!

CHAPTER XII. 

NEPHEW AND UNCLE. 

A serpent heart hid with a flowering face. 

-Shakspeare. 

HOW ingenious are the expedients to which the mind will resort tojustify itself, and endeavor to still the warnings of conscience. Hewho commits a sin, first deceives himself, for he is led to believethat the culpable deed will be productive of a greater degree ofhappiness than evil to himself, else his own selfishness woulddeliver him from the act. I did not mean this into evil, he will sayto his conscience, as it prompts him in its own silent way. 

Thus Petro, by a like process of reasoning, had brought himselfalmost, if not quite to the relief that the end was a justifiableone, and so did not hesitate at the means necessary to accomplishit. Was not Florinda about to marry a heretic, an American, a mereartist, without any claim to noble blood, and against the wish ofher uncle and guardian? How cunningly did Mahomet add a new chapterto the Koran in justification of his amour With Mary the Copticgirl! "All things are fair and honorable in love, " said Petro tohimself, "even as in war; and I should be a fool if I failed to takeadvantage of any circumstance that chance may throw in my way. No, no; honor is not to step in between me and my love-it shall notdefeat my purposes. I will win the battle first, and then repentafterwards. 'Tis the only course I can pursue. "

Having reasoned to himself much after this manner, he communicatedthe whole affair to his uncle, in whom he was sure of finding onewho would lend his ready aid in the accomplishment of his purpose. Signor Latrezzi having employed every other means to prevent theproposed connection between Florinda and the American artist, gladlyreceived the proposition made to him by Petro, and fully enteringinto the spirit of the latter, determined to resort to stratagem toaccomplish his grand object. 

It was accordingly agreed between Petro and his uncle that he, Petro, should be at the gate that night, as specified in Carlton'snote to Florinda, where he should meet her so disguised and muffledup as not to be recognized, and thus by artful management pass forCarlton; soon after their leaving the city, they were to stop at asmall public house on the road, where a priest should meet them; andhaving received his instructions from Signor Latrezzi as to theparticulars of the case, would understand how to play his part inthe deceit, uniting them without question. 

And thus it was agreed that Florinda should be made to marry Petro, thinking him to be Carlton. To render all things sure, and thatnothing should be overlooked as it regarded necessary precaution, the uncle was to go on and stop at the inn during the afternoon withthe priest, and arrange everything properly for the proposeddeception. 

"It is the only means by which we can accomplish our purpose, " saidPetro to his uncle, in justification of the plan they had adopted, and snatching at any idea that might screen him in some degree fromhis own conscience, relative to the dishonest measure they wereengaged in. 

"It is plain, " said Signor Latrezzi, "that this Signor Carlton-thisAmerican artist, has got the girl's heart. "

"Irrevocably. "

The uncle started-the thought shooting across even his hardened andcalloused heart-can this man design to marry Florinda, and yetbelieve, as he says, that she irrevocably loves another man?

"Ay, " he continued, with the purpose of justifying himself, as Petrohad done, "she is so obstinate about it, too. "

"Yes, but this will most certainly render her perfectly tractable-nodoubt, " said Petro-with a laugh, thus showing how much he reallyloved her who was destined to become his victim. 

"There's little heart in this business. "

"True. "

"And after all I like it not. "

"Nor I, but it must be. "

"It does seem necessary. "

"Unquestionably. "

"If I thought otherwise, I would not consent to it, Petro. "

"Nor would I engage in it, " said the nephew, with some degree ofhonesty. 

"We shall be sure of the duke's displeasure. "

"Yes, that we must count upon, "

"It will not, however be anything serious. "

"Probably not. "

The thought again striking Signor Latrezzi, he said:

"There will be little love between thee and the girl, I fear. "

"It will be all her own fault if I do not become devoted to her, "said Petro, in answer to this suggestion, and yet in a tone ofderision; for he had his mind more upon Florinda's fortune and titlethan upon her person, though he did also feel an ambition to possessso rich and rare a jewel as herself. 

"Do you know, Petro, how Signor Carlton first became acquainted withFlorinda? It has ever been a mystery to me. "

"'Twas at the convent, I believe, " replied Petro. "I have been toldthat he was employed by the prioress to copy some valuable painting, and while thus engaged, formed the acquaintance. "

"Gita" (Florinda's maid) "has told me that it was he who taught herto play so sweetly upon the guitar. Can this be so?"

"Si, signor, this also commenced at the convent. Carlton exhibitedby chance one day his singular skill upon the instrument, and beingengaged there for many weeks, he became acquainted with many youngladies, and among them Florinda, to whom he gave a few lessons onthe instrument. Afterwards becoming better acquainted with Florinda, he taught her some of the airs of his country, and by degrees seemedto impart his really singular skill upon the instrument to her. Inever knew that these Americans were such musicians before. "

Petro spoke truly. Carlton had first become acquainted with Florindaat the convent as stated, and while teaching her upon that mostgraceful instrument, the guitar, of which he was a perfectmaster-each learned to love the other, without realizing the factuntil the time for parting arrived, when the tears stood inFlorinda's eyes while they met Carlton's, and each read a volume oflove and constancy there. They often met from that time, and thegentle and high-born Florinda loved the young American artist asdearly as he did the loveliest girl of the sunny Val d'Arno. 

Petro was safe in his calculation, at least as far as it regardedhis deception and stratagem with the letter between Florinda andCarlton; for, having received the letter despatched by Petro thatmorning, Carlton did not for a moment question its genuineness, butproceeded at once to make his arrangements accordingly, supposingthat the intended elopement was only delayed for twenty-four hoursby some unforeseen circumstance which had occurred in the householdof Florinda's uncle. 

This was a reasonable construction of the matter; and with this viewof it, and as she had requested him not to attempt to see her untilthey met at the gate, Carlton mounted his horse and rode out of thecity, proposing a pleasure trip upon the mountains until night. Wewill not deny that he was disappointed, but having implicitconfidence in Florinda's judgment, he believed that she could nothave unnecessarily delayed the appointment. 

Petro had made all his arrangements with a zeal and care worthy of abetter cause. It is but too often the case that we find activity andzeal exerted in behalf of the wrong; for the rogue, conscious of hisevil purpose, exerts every faculty to accomplish his end, and toscreen himself from the detection he constantly fears. 

Here was an uncle and nephew plotting a young girl's misery-coollyand understandingly consigning her to a lot, which, of all others, is most to be dreaded by a female heart. She little suspected theirtreachery-and where should she not have first looked for deceit, rather than among those who should have proved her protectors?Florinda had ever loved her uncle and, until she had learned some ofthe evil traits of his character, had respected him, too. But as shegrew older and more observant, these things forced themselves uponher attention, and she was obliged to concede their truth to her ownheart, though she never made mention of the matter to another. OfPetro-she had never loved him; and while they were yet children andplaymates together, they could never agree. 

The deep, dark passions that Petro inherited from his father, oftenbroke out on the most trivial provocation, to the terror ofFlorinda, until she more feared than loved him. As both had grownolder, Petro acquired more command over his evil passions, andFlorinda had learned to look upon him with indifference; and yet shefelt his absence for so long a time at Bologna to be a relief froman unpleasant restraint she felt in his or her uncle's presence. Signor Latrezzi discovered this growing dislike of his niece forhimself; and this was another argument with himself why he shouldresort to the proposed stratagem to accomplish an end whichotherwise appeared to be receding farther and farther from his graspevery hour. 

His earnestness in the matter showed fully that he had some privatepurpose in view, and this Petro suspected, and he at lengthascertained his desire to cover up some pecuniary fraud he hadcommitted upon her estate. But he was willing to let that remain inobscurity, provided he could get the management of the rest, whichwas indeed an immense estate in value. 

Such were the uncle and nephew to her. But as they stood nowtogether-that is, the uncle and nephew-the most casual observerwould have noticed that the business they were engaged in but illysuited them. They were by no means so heartless or mercenary as notto feel strong compunctions. 

"Petro, " said the uncle, "if you marry Florinda, remember you mustrespect and cherish her afterwards. "

"Of course, I shall. You need not lay any injunctions upon thatscore, my good uncle. "

"Ay, 'twill be poor enough reparation for the loss of her freedom, "mused the uncle. 

"Don't moralize, " said Petro. "We are in for the game, and must playit out, come what may. "

"That is true. "

Saying which, the two silently saluted each other, and thenseparated. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

THE ROADSIDE INN. 

You shall see anon; 'tis a knavish piece of work. 

-Hamlet. 

NIGHT came, and Florinda counted the moments as they passed, anxiously awaiting the time at which she must leave the palace tomeet Carlton, according to his last directions. The time soanxiously anticipated at length arrived, and stealing from a privateentrance to the Palazzo, accompanied by a faithful female servant, who had been her attendant for years, she hurried on foot to thedesignated spot. She had shrewdly avoided the employment of avehicle, deeming it more safe and expeditious thus to make thepassage to the spot on foot. 

There was one of the most delicate and high-born beauties of allTuscany wending her way through the dark and deserted streets, attended by a single female as helpless as herself. She was doingthis for the love she bore to Carlton; she was risking thus hercharacter, and perhaps even her life, to be united to him she loved, the gallant Americano. On she sped, now half-running, and nowretiring within the deep shade of some projecting angle of thepalaces that lined the route, thus to screen herself from theobservation of some passer-by. 

The gate was reached at the precise moment. There stood, wrappedclose in his ample cloak, with his hat slouched well over his eyes, him she took for Carlton; he stood apparently expecting her at thedoor of a caleche. With a whisper of recognition, he assisted herinto the vehicle, which immediately dashed off at a reckless speedon the mountain-road. The reader need hardly be told that this wasPetro, who thus cunningly executed the plan agreed upon, as we havealready seen, between him and his uncle, Signor Latrezzi. Thus weexplain to the reader the tableau we have presented him at thelittle roadside inn on the Apennines; thus it was that PetroGiampetti, in place of Carlton, was wedded to Signora Florinda. 

Fatal mistake! Ay, fatal, indeed, was that unfortunate billetdelivered by Florinda unwittingly to Petro. It was the author of allher present misery, and the consequences to follow were, ifpossible, of a still more fatal character. In that little note, Petro possessed himself of an agent which enabled him to work outhis treacherous plans-a key wherewith he unlocked the purposes ofCarlton, and made himself master of his secret design. We have seen, gentle reader, to what use Petro put the information he had sotreacherously obtained, and now we will show the close of this fataldrama. 

While Florinda was still insensible, and surrounded by the servantsof the house, under Petro's directions, endeavoring to resuscitateher, a single horseman rode up to the door of the inn on his waydown the mountain. Dismounting, he stood by his weary steed for amoment, regarding both him and the ominous signs of the weather, then turning to the attentive hostler, he asked:

"How far to Florence, sir?"

"A couple of leagues, signor. "

"And the gates close at ten?"

"Si, signor. "

"Can you accommodate me within?"

"Si, signor. "

"And my horse?"

"Si, signor. "

"I may as well stop here, " said Carlton, for it was he, "as a fewmiles nearer the city, for I cannot enter until morning. "

Resolving to tarry here for the night, he threw the bridle of hisweary steed to the hostler, and entered the house. He had ridden outfrom the city early that morning for exercise and pleasure, and hadascended many miles the wild and majestic Apennines to obtain a viewof the glorious scenery presented from their lofty heights, and geta sight of the far-off Adriatic; he was belated on his way, andresolved to go no further in the deep darkness of the night. Astorm, too, was evidently about to break in all its fury, and mightovertake him before another shelter could be obtained. It was thislatter inducement, in connection with the weary state of his horse, that led him to decide upon stopping at so uninviting a house as theone in question. 

It was a noble animal which he seemed to have such considerationfor, and was a gift of the duke's from his own stable-an animal thathad already learned to love his new master, and stood with archingneck, and brilliant eye, as though no labor or fatigue could banishhis conscious pride. The young artist regarded him with undisguisedadmiration, petted him by a few gentle strokes upon the head and akind word, and said, "Yes, Prince, you and I will tarry here untilmorning, and go back to town with renewed strength and vigor gainedfrom this mountain air. "

Having seen that his horse was properly bestowed, Carlton returnedto the house, and passed immediately into the little parlor of theinn where the ceremony had just been performed, little anticipatingthe startling scene that there awaited him. The astonishment ofCarlton at beholding Florinda there, surrounded by the servantsendeavoring to resuscitate her, with Petro and his uncle, SignorLatrezzi, can better be imagined than described. Twice did he dashhis hand across his eyes, as if to assure himself that he was notdreaming; then thrusting them recklessly aside, he was about toraise her in his arms, when Petro, who was taken completely bysurprise, recognized him and, drawing his stiletto, struck fiercelyat his heart. 

Carlton received the blow partly upon the arm, where it inflicted aflesh wound only. Turning upon the Italian, with one blow of hismuscular arm, he threw him prostrate upon the floor; and half wayacross the apartment; then drawing from the ample pocket of hisriding-coat a pistol, he presented it at the infuriated Petro, bidding him to stand back, or his life should pay the forfeit. 

"By this light, one step in advance and you die!"

Carlton was in earnest, and Petro could read the determination ofhis spirit flashing from his eye, and he quailed before it. He feltthat he was in the wrong; that the manly interference of Carlton hadright to back it; and this consciousness, while it unnerved his ownarm, nerved that of the artist's. Carlton paused for a moment, as ifto consider what to do; he was amazed and confounded, and his armsunk by his side. 

Petro and his uncle drawing together, exchanged a few hasty words, while Carlton stood there mute, as though struck dumb. 

"We are two to one, " whispered Petro, "let us upon him. "

"Nay, he has a pistol; we have only our swords. "

All this passed in one instant of time; but the next chapter mustdescribe the close, of the scene which had assumed so tragic acharacter and such a fearful aspect. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

THE FINALE. 

Some falls are means the happier to arise. 

-Cymbeline. 

THE low rough room of that roadside inn presented a wild and tragicappearance at that moment. On the floor, her head supported by herfaithful attendant, lay the insensible form of Signora Florinda. Just at her feet, and standing between her and Petro, was the tall, manly person of Carlton, his right hand holding a pistol towards thebreast of the former, in whose dark countenance was depicted everyevil passion of the soul. The servants in their fright at the suddenaffray had retired to a distant corner of the apartment, while inanother, with his hands over his face, as if to shut out the horridscene before him, stood the person of Florinda's uncle. 

"What means this scene?" asked Carlton. "Can some of ye speak andtell me? Gita, what brought your mistress here, and under suchescort? Speak out, girl-I'll protect you. "

"Treachery, signor, dark and deep!" said the girl, whom Florinda hadfound it necessary to make a confidant of in relation to theintended elopement and marriage. 

"Noble business for an uncle and nephew!"

"Repeat not those words" said Petro, angrily. 

"I repeat them, and am ready to abide by them, " said Carlton. 

"Cospetto!" exclaimed Petro, in a rage. 

"Ay, talk on, " said Carlton; "so valiant a knight need have plentyof words at command. "

"Hold, for the love of the virgin, hold both of ye!" said SignorLatrezzi, foreseeing the catastrophe that must ensue, yet stillremaining with his face hid in his outspread hands. 

"By our holy church, " said Petro, "must I be met at every turn bythis braggart of an American, who thwarts my dearest wishes, andfoils me at every point? I tell thee I will have thy heart's blood!"he continued, rushing wildly towards Carlton. 

The pistol was raised on a level with the head of the revengefulItalian, as he advanced furiously, with his stiletto reflecting theglance of the lamps. Carlton cried to him:

"Have a care, Signor Petro. Thy blood be on thine own head. Standback, I say. "

"By heaven, I will not longer bear this!"

"I have warned thee!"

But the enraged Petro heeded not the warning of Carlton, upon whomhe was just about to throw himself, when the black throat of thepistol emitted in liquid fire its fatal contents, and when thestunning effect of its voice and the smoke had subsided, there laythe lifeless corpse of Petro upon the floor at the feet of theAmerican. The ball had passed through his brain; and thus, in thefull tide of life, with health and strength, and, alas! with all theevil passions of his heart in operation, and his soul craving theblood of his fellow-man, he had rushed in one moment into eternity. 

A fearful death, and a fearful thought; but the deed was now done, and there was no recalling it. Its fearful consequences wereinevitable, and must be borne by the actors in that scene in thedrama of life. 

"Holy virgin, he is dead!" said Signor Latrezzi, as he bent over theinanimate form of Petro. 

"God forgive him!" said Carlton. "He would have taken my life withthat thirsty dagger!"

"By this light, you acted only in self-defence, " said the tremblinglandlord to Carlton. 

"Quick, sir, " said Carlton, "remove all appearance of this strugglebefore the lady revives. "

The sad finale of the tragic scene was at once enacted by thelandlord and his people, who bore the body into a private apartment. 

Signor Latrezzi, who had himself to blame for the greater part ofthis fatal business, stood horror-struck by the sight now presentedto his view. If he was not the actual murderer, was he not theinstigator of the whole business? He put this question to hisconscience, and it whispered to him in deep and thrillingtones-guilty, guilty! He would have given everything he possessed, ay, life itself, to have been able to recall the whole transaction;but alas! it was now too late, and the consciousness of his guiltdrove him almost to madness. 

The servants, who had witnessed the whole affair, could testify thatCarlton had acted only in self-defence in the matter, and from aconviction of this, they offered no interference. Signor Latrezzi, after giving direction's for the removal of the body, took hisdeparture towards the city, without attempting to interfere witheither Carlton or Florinda, whom he left to themselves unmolested. Florinda happily was insensible of the tragic scene performed in herpresence. When she revived, all traces of the deed were removed, andshe found herself in the care and protection of Carlton. 

"Where am I?" she asked, as she recovered from the insensibilitywhich had seized upon her, when she realized the treachery that hadbeen played upon her; her eyes resting on Carlton, she clunginstinctively to him for protection. She closed them again, scarcelydaring to trust their evidence, lest she should again realize thatscene. 

"Is it a vision or reality?" she asked tremblingly of Carlton. 

There is nothing done but has been undone, dearest, " was the answer. "You shall know more when you are more composed. "

"But, Carlton, the priest married us, " said Florinda, shuddering atthe thought. "I am his wife!"

"Compose thyself, dearest; and believe me, thou art no one's wife, but still my dear Florinda. All is well. "

By degrees as Florinda became more composed, the whole matter wastold to her; and though she deeply sorrowed at the fatal necessity, yet she could not blame Carlton for taking the life of him who wasat the moment seeking his. They sought her home in Florence, fromwhence Carlton was no longer excluded, but came and went at will. Signor Latrezzi and he never met; but it was plain that the servantshad been ordered to admit him in future, as any other respectedguest of Signora Florinda's. 

The uncle's darling project was utterly defeated, and the hopesthereby of securing himself from his just reward for the dishonestact he had committed in appropriating a large sum of his niece'sproperty, was rendered abortive. What course did the old man pursuein this dilemma? He did that which he should have done years before, as soon as he awoke to the realization of the crime he hadcommitted; he went to Florinda, confessed his dishonesty, and beggedher to spare his gray hairs from dishonor. She was but too happy torelieve him from his misery and suffering on this account. 

"Uncle, " said she, "give thyself no further uneasiness on thispoint, but sit thee down, and draw a paper absolving thyself fromthe matter in proper form, and I will sign it. "

The paper was drawn and signed, and Signor Latrezzi from that hourbecame a different man; he had thoroughly repented. 

"You are now content?"

"I am, my dear Florinda, and thankful to you for thus relieving mymind. "

"Say nothing about it, my dear uncle. "

"I will not, save in action towards you, Florinda, who have placedme under lasting obligations. "

Though Carlton deeply regretted the fatal occurrence of that nightat the inn on the Apennines, still his conscience did not upbraidhim for the part he had enacted; for though he had taken the life ofPetro, it was done in self-defence, and the court of Florence sodecided, Carlton having given himself up to trial. It would havegone hard with him, or any foreigner in Italy, and especially inTuscany, who should chance to be thus situated; but Carlton had theall-powerful influence of the Grand Duke Leopold exerted in hisfavor, and in this case justice was rendered. 

True, it was some time before the American artist was again receivedat court, or made his appearance at the Grand Duke's weekly cordon, as public opinion was against him-and very naturally, too, for hewas a foreigner, and had taken the life of a citizen of Florence, and one closely allied to the nobility and gentle blood. But afterthe decision of the court-which the duke took good care to have madein the most imposing and public form-was thoroughly understood, andthe memory of the matter had grown a little dim, Carlton againresumed his place at court, as the protege of the Grand Duke, androyal favor was again shown him. 

Signor Latrezzi shut himself from society for many months almostbroken-hearted, now fully realizing the error of his conduct inrelation to Florinda and Petro. The generous act of the former inabsolving him from the responsibility he had incurred in relation toher estate, had done much to awaken his better feelings. Petro hehad loved with the affection of a father, and he now keenly mournedhis untimely end. People saw the great change in Signor Latrezzi, for he no longer sought to oppress any one, but in his few publicdealings he was strictly honorable and true. 

He had indeed thoroughly reformed; he no longer sought to interferein the plans of his niece, who was left to follow her own wishes. Out of respect for her own feelings, and those of her uncle-whomFlorinda had now begun to respect, seeing a complete change in himthat showed an honest and honorable purpose-her proposed marriagewas deferred for some weeks, when at length, under the sanction ofthe Grand Duke, Florinda and Carlton were united to each other, andfound happiness in the love and constancy of their own true hearts. Thus happily ended the high thoughts and bright dreams of the humblepainter. 

In one of the lovely palaces whose lofty walls of white bask in thewarm sun of the Val d'Arno, lives the last surviving branch of thenoble house of Carrati in the person of the peerless SignoraFlorinda. Joyful and happy in domestic felicity, there, too, isCarlton, the American artist, surrounded by everything that wealthcan procure, or refined taste suggest, and master of the unboundedestates of Carrati, but above all, happy in Florinda's love. 

THE END. 

[FROM "THE FLAG OF OUR UNION. "]

THE PRIMA DONNA. 

BY M. V. ST. LEON. 

"WHAT is to be done?" exclaimed the manager of the principal theatrein Havana. "What is to be done?" and he paced the room in angrydespair. "This is the second time within a week that SignoraBuonatti has been too ill to sing-and to-night every seat isengaged, the house will be full to overflowing. The audience scarceendured the first disappointment, and how will they receive thesecond? O, for some expedient. I must hunt the whole city throughtill I find some one to supply her place decently!" and seizing hishat, Diego Cartillos rushed into the street, and was out of sight ina few minutes. 

"Alfin brillar, nell i rede, " sang a voice of surpassing sweetness, which came from round a corner. Cartillos stopped an instant insilent ecstacy, and then hurriedly advanced in the direction of thesound. In front of a handsome house stood a young girl apparentlynear sixteen years of age, in poor but clean garments, and holding amandoline in her hand with which she was playing an accompaniment tothe words she was singing. The manager stood listening to itattentively, and as the rich, clear tones of the girl dwelt on thelower notes, or rose with a birdlike gush to the higher ones, hecould scarce restrain some display of his delight. Such, however, itwas not his policy to exhibit, and when at the close of the song, she timidly approached him, and, lifting her mandoline and large, sad eyes at the same time, besought him in broken Spanish to giveher a single maravedi for pity's sake, he coldly drew forth a fewsmall coins and handed them to her. 

"This is a poor way of earning your support, "' answered he. 

"I know it-but it is all the one I have. "

"It is a pity, for you seem to be an honest sort of a body, andperhaps with the assistance of friends you might be made somethingdecent, " then without noticing the indignant flush that had risen toher check, he continued. "Now I am willing to help you-that is, ifyou're respectable and humble-minded, and I will let you sing in mytheatre, although I am sure I shall lose by it. "

The first impulse of the young girl was to refuse with anger, theproposal offered almost in an insulting manner, by the hard, avaricious man, but a moment's reflection showed her she could notafford to be particular in choosing the manners of an employer, andshe replied:

"Why are you willing to take a stranger who has no claims upon you, if you are certain you will be a loser by so doing?"

"Because, although I shall be at an extra expense for a while, I amin hopes you will repay it sometime, " he replied, with a scowl atbeing questioned. "Come, what say you?"

"I am willing to better my condition, sir, and as for being humblein my manners, few are otherwise who have their living to earn, "replied the maiden, with a touch of haughtiness. 

"Then come with me, " said Cartillos, leading the way to the house hehad quitted a short time previous. When they were seated, themanager commenced questioning his companion. 

"It is rather a singular thing for a street musician to sing suchsongs as you do, and in such a manner, "--then, after a pause, duringwhich she did not volunteer any information on the subject, herenewed the attack, with, "You must have had some instruction. Whowas your teacher?"

"A countryman, " was the reply. 

Baffled in this direction, Cartillos commenced in a fresh quarter. 

"You are an Italian, I suppose?"

"I am. "

"Of what part are you a native?"

"Before I came to Havana, I resided in Naples. "

The manager bit his lip at the small amount of information heobtained, and commenced again. 

"One of the troupe is ill, and I wish to obtain some one to supplyher place-but I suppose you are unacquainted with any opera?"

"I will engage to perfect myself in any one within a week. "

"I cannot wait so long. To-night is the evening I most desire yourservices, " Cartillos replied, in despair. 

"What is announced in the programme?"

"Lucia, " was the gloomy response. 

"If that is all, sir, I ask but seven hours practice and study. I amfamiliar with it, but need instruction in the acting of it. "

Her companion eagerly replied that he would engage her for thatnight at least, and was departing to send some one to instruct her, when she timidly inquired:

"But my dress, sir-how shall I arrange that matter?"

"O, I'll see to that! You prepare yourself in the part-I'll do therest, " and he was gone in an instant. 

Night came, and also a crowded house. Presently the people becameimpatient, and with eagerness called for the commencement of theperformance; at the expiration of five minutes whistling, screaming, stamping, etc. , the manager made his appearance and announced "thatSignora Buanatti was unable to appear, but Signorina Zampieri hadkindly offered to take her place!" But the audience did not take itkindly-the lady was unknown to them, and who could say anythingabout her singing-besides, they had excused the favorite vocalistonce, and they were not to be put off in this same way again. Accordingly, a tremendous hiss arose, in the midst of which theunfortunate manager rattled off the physician's certificate, lettinghis voice drop, and flat away towards the end most comically, thenhastily departed for the side scenes. 

In a few minutes the young debutante appeared. She was received witha chilling silence, broken only by a few faint claps from some halfdozen good-natured persons, in consideration of her youth andbeauty. In defiance of her prepossessing appearance, the audienceseemed determined that they would not be cheated or flattered into asingle expression of approbation, but the manager observed withrising hope that they forbore to hiss. Undismayed, and regardless ofthe reception she met with, the young girl, with perfect composure, began her role. As she continued, the whole richness and beauty ofher voice were brought out, and wholly unable to withstand suchwonderful, unexpected melody, the people manifested their delightloudly, and at the conclusion of the opera, Signorina Zampieri wascalled for loudly. At the request of the manager, she came forward, and with polite indifference bowed in reply to the applause. SignoraBuonatti was forgotten! The people were amazed at the nonchalantmanner of the young favorite, who actually received a burst ofenthusiasm, such as rarely had greeted any singer, with suchcoolness-who and what was this slender, youthful being, that wasneither awed by their sternness, nor delighted at their praises?

The selfish, scheming Cartillos at once perceived he had made afortunate speculation, and hastened to engage his prize for a yearat one third her real value, as the next day proved when notes cameflocking in from all directions, urging her to name her own price. With a feeling of deep indignation Teresa Zampieri determined afterher engagement with Cartillos expired, that he should neveracquire another farthing by her. She speedily became the pet of thepeople, yet notwithstanding her surprising good fortune, nothing hadthe power to charm her out of the subdued manner so unnatural in oneso young, or throw a lightsome sparkle into those large, dark, melancholy eyes, while almost the first exclamation made by everyone on hearing her sing, was, "Her voice sounds like a fountain oftears!" The only thing that absorbed and rendered her forgetful ofthe present, was her music, and when in the opera, her whole beingseemed merged into the character she was representing. Her large, sad eyes grew still larger and sadder, and she seemed like one in adream-it was with her a passion, an existence. 

But she was subject to many annoyances from Cartillos, whoconstantly took advantage of her ignorance concerning money matters, which Florian Geraldi, the handsome tenor of the troupe, plainlyperceived and with burning indignation. He would have protected herand prevented these impositions, but they were both young, and hefeared his motives might be misunderstood, and so he continued fromday to day, each showing him plainer that his heart was given to thebeautiful songstress, whose course had been so like a comet, risingfrom darkness, and no one knew whither, for all felt instinctivelythat a mystery hung over the young girl. -At last some fresh act ofinjustice on the part of Cartillos thoroughly aroused Geraldi, who, at the risk of losing his situation, determined to tell Teresa howmuch she was imposed upon. The mournful tone and manner with whichshe replied--"Alas, I am aware I have no friends to protect me, "quite startled her companion out of his composure. He had resolvednever to speak of his affection till he had more reason for hopethan he then possessed, but at these words his resolution wasforgotten, and rapidly, earnestly, he detailed his past wishes andpresent hopes, and urged her to reply. For an instant she wassilent, but then she addressed him in firm, sad, yet kind tones. 

"This declaration is wholly unexpected to me, and while I cannot butbe flattered at the compliment-the highest a man can offer, I amobliged to decline it. Your pity for me has perhaps misled you intothe belief that you love me, but you will soon forget one that cannever be yours. "

Geraldi, who thought she might doubt he loved her sufficiently, wasabout to assure her on that point, but he had scarcely commencedspeaking, ere she interrupted him. 

"Even supposing I loved you as I ought to the man whose heart I takeinto my keeping, there are obstacles-do not ask what-such being thecase, is it not best to conquer all but friendship in thebeginning?"

"Alas, it may be easy for you to counsel who do not endure, but thisis not the beginning of my love, " murmured the Italian, indespairing accents, as he left her. 

The tone and mournful eyes made Teresa unhappy; she regretted deeplythe necessity of giving pain in this world, though she felt shemight unavoidably be the cause of more disappointments than even thebeautiful are generally, and with a sigh realized that in accordancewith her principles, she must draw yet more tightly the lines ofisolation about her. Life already had but few pleasures, and eventhis scanty list must be curtailed. Geraldi, convinced that hispoverty and comparative obscurity were the objections to him, determined they should not long remain a barrier, and immediately onthe expiration of his engagement with Cartillos, departed for hisnative land, determined not to see Teresa Zampieri again till he hadwon a name worthy her acceptance. He mentioned his plans to no one, however, but bidding farewell to his friends departed on his errand. Time flew by, and Teresa was released from her engagement. Cartillosbegged earnestly that she would continue with him, but the younggirl told him just her sentiments regarding his conduct, and much ashe regretted his past error, it did not help the matter in theleast. Engagements from far and near poured in upon her, and theonly difficulty was, which to choose. 

"Somewhat of contrast!" thought Teresa. "One short year ago, Iscarce knew where to lay my head. Heigho! Methinks my presentstation elevated as it may appear-but what! is this foolish heartforever crying more?" and the tears so seldom permitted to visitthose sad, dreamy eyes, now came unchecked. Her sorrow onceindulged, returned more and more often; so to divert her mind, Teresa Zampieri visited distant countries, always avoiding Italy, however, and journeyed and sang without cessation. This constantexertion was too much for her to bear, and she was obliged to omitsinging entirely for several months, during which time she travelledthrough many delightful places, and frequently recalled those daysin after years, as some of the happiest she had known. At theexpiration of her wanderings she returned to Havana refreshed, andcomparatively happy, to commence a new engagement. This was thethird year of her theatrical life, and Teresa was now nearly twentyyears of age, and though so young, she possessed the manners of anaccomplished, experienced woman. It was a matter of wonder to all, that amid such a throng of suitors as she was known to possess, sheyet remained Teresa Zampieri; but few dared request the guardianshipof the peerless girl, for it seemed as though between her andthemselves a vast gulf lay. And notwithstanding superior rank andposition, many a noble felt himself awed by the unaffected dignityof the actress. 

One evening as the breathless multitude were listening to the soft, high note the songstress had already sustained for several measures, as her eyes suddenly rested on a figure in a box near the stage, itwas interrupted by a wild, piercing shriek from the blanched lips ofTeresa, who instantly fell senseless. In a second all was confusion. The orchestra stopped short in the middle of a note, the curtain wasspeedily lowered, several ladies fainted, and the audience were in afever of excitement, each one talking to his neighbor. 

"We must be careful of our treasure, " said one, "or we shall loseit. "

"What is the matter?" eagerly asked another. 

"That last note was held too long, " suggested a third. 

"A touch of the heart complaint I should think, " etc. 

When the manager announced that Signorini Zampieri requested theindulgence of a few minutes before resuming her performance, therewas a general expostulation, so much had she endeared herself toevery heart. But the manager assured the audience that the ladythanked them for their considerate kindness, but that she wasperfectly recovered, and preferred finishing the little thatremained of the opera. When she reappeared, the burning cheek andglittering eye deceived many as to the suffering she endured. Hergaze restlessly sought the figure that had caused her emotion, andas she met the person's glance, a shudder passed over her. At firsther voice trembled with weakness, but meeting the mocking, sneeringtriumph in that sarcastic face, the blood boiled in her veins, andtrembling with indignation, she startled the audience with the wildburst of scorn she threw into the part she was representing. Thestranger at first turned pale with anger and surprise at thesurpassing delineation, but the next instant his eyes gleamed withmalicious satisfaction, which seemed to chafe the singer to madness. 

At the conclusion of the opera, Teresa, with feverish impatience toarrive at home, was hastily leaving the theatre, when she fanciedshe saw in the front entrance doorway that Mephistophiles-like face, and ordering the coachman to drive to her lodgings as speedily aspossible, threw herself back upon the cushions, and repressed astrong inclination to take a certain individual's web of life out ofthe hands of Fate. In a few minutes she arrived at the hotel, andentering her parlor stood face to face with the stranger, who hadrisen with the most easy coolness, and advanced to meet her. 

"Mille pardons m'amie, for the intrusion, but I have not seen you solong, that I was quite unable to resist the temptation of a call. "

Teresa, overpowered with the most painful emotions, sank into a seatand covered her face with her hands. With an expression of savagepleasure, her tormentor approached quite near, and said:

"I beg, my charming friend, that you will not put yourself to thefatigue and trouble of a sentimental reception, for I assure you itwill be entirely wasted. "

These words roused the young girl from her stupor of agony, andraising her form to its full height, she exclaimed:

"Brandini Villani, it would appear that the just avenging God hathforgotten thee, miserable sinner, but it matters not; eternity, methinks, will be long enough for thy punishment. " Then with lesspassion, but with regal, even awful dignity, she freezinglyinquired--"What have you to say?"

For an instant the wretch was intimidated, but noticing the tremorof Teresa's whole frame, and mistaking it for fear, concealedbeneath affected scorn, he regained his assurance and tauntinglyreplied:

"It is a trifling oversight, ma chere, to affect a callousindifference towards me, when I have the charm with a single glanceto render you insensible, and to make you tremble at the mere soundof my voice-no, no, Teresa, it will not do. While my presenceaffects you thus, I know the power to fascinate has not yet desertedme. "

"Contemptuous wretch! With what feelings does the scaly, venomousserpent inspire one when he approaches with slimy track and fetidbreath, with stealthy, coil and sickening glare? Think you would notthat fascinate with terror, cause a tremble of disgust, and produceinsensibility and delirium that such a loathsome reptile shouldexist and breathe the same air? Yet having now called forth thatemotion in its deepest degree, you rejoice to have moved me! Trulyyou have, and I can conceive your mind just fitted to appreciate thehonor!"

The worst passions of Villani were now thoroughly awake, and heretorted with flashing eyes and a fierce tone, while his face evento his lips, turned livid white. 

"You may regret your liberal use of words when I unfold my errand. Iwill trouble you for half your proceeds for the last year!"

With blazing eyes, from which sparks of fire actually seemed toflash, and a form that appeared to dilate, Teresa turned full uponVillani. 

"How now, traitorous villain? Is not your list of perjuries, thefts, deceptions and murders long enough, but you must add to it, ere youare qualified to become the privy councillor to the arch fiend? Getthee hence, grovelling worm, ere the lightnings of heaven blastthee!"

At this instant the storm which had been gathering, burst with furyover the city, and the dazzling sheet of flame was succeeded by adeafening, rattling peal of thunder. Teresa sank on her knees besidea lounge and buried her face in silent prayer; even Villani turnedpale and moved to the centre of the apartment, where he stood withfolded arms and compressed lips. Presently the violence of thetempest abated, and the pallid Brandini approached Teresa, who hadnot changed her position, and had forgotten in the storm almost theexistence of her persecutor, and in a low, dogged voice, said:

"I am waiting for your reply. "

With a faint shriek Teresa raised her head. 

"I thought you were gone-do you wish to tempt me further?"

"Will you give the money?"

"I will not!"

"Beware! Think again!"

"You have my answer. Never, while life remains, will I give anotherreply!"

Villani bent over her and whispered a word; with a wild, agonizedshriek she sprang to her feet and gazed wildly into his face and infeeble, broken accents, exclaimed:

"O no, no, not that-it would kill me, Villani, Villani! You are notin earnest?"

"I most certainly am, madam, and I give you just five minutes todecide which alternative you will choose, " and he drew out his watchand steadily gazed upon it. At the expiration of that time, Teresa, with a pale, tearful face, knelt before him, and in faint, despairing tones, murmured:

"I accept your terms! Villani's eyes lighted up with a fierce pride, as he exclaimed:

"I thought to bring you to terms!"

"Tempt me not, Brandini Villani!" vehemently replied Teresa, risingwith flashing eyes; "you may rouse me yet beyond endurance-beware!"and she pressed her hand to her heart, while an expression of paincrossed her countenance. The extreme physical suffering so plainlymarked, seemed to move even the hard, unfeeling Villani, who, takingher hand, said:

"I am afraid you are ill, ma belle, " then as he gazed upon herlovely form and face, half affectionately, half in defiance, hesuddenly exclaimed: "O Teresa, you're the handsomest woman I eversaw. I could love you so, if you'd let me. Why can't we be friends, Teresa? I know I did wrong, but why need we make an eternal quarrelof the matter. Ah, my charming prize, why not transfer to me theaffection you are wasting upon one, who, perhaps ere this, is falseto you, and--"

"Silence! I have borne too long with you from weakness and inabilityto speak, but depart now, or I recant my promise of submission. "

"To hear is to obey-though the request might have been couched inmore polite terms, " returned Villani, his former cold, sarcasticmanner returning with every word he uttered. "I may do myself thepleasure to call again, my love-at present I wish you a good nightand pleasant dreams-of me!" and the door closed on his sardonicsmile. 

"Alas, " exclaimed Teresa, "he has a hold upon me I dare not attemptto dispute. "

The next morning as she was leaving the stage, after rehearsal, shewas met at the green room door by a familiar face, fine, manly andhandsome-yes, it was Geraldi! With a glad cry of surprise anddelight, Teresa sprang forward, and taking the outstretched hand ofthe young man, said in her joyous, musical voice:

"Welcome, my dear friend! How you have improved-I have heard of thelaurels you have won!"

"And you too, Signorina Zampieri-you are paler and thinner than youwere when I last saw you. I know you have prospered as well asmyself, for Fame has not been idle with your name. "

"Really signor, we are exquisitely polite and complimentary to eachother, but this is hardly the place for a lengthy conversation, "said Teresa, laughing, and coloring somewhat, as she met theslightly mischievous glances of the loungers who generally are to befound in theatres--"if you are at liberty, why not step into thecarriage, and drive home with me?"

"I shall be most happy, " replied Geraldi, with a radiant, delightedsmile, as he accompanied her to the vehicle. 

For some time the presence and vivacity of Geraldi roused Teresafrom her serious, almost melancholy manners, and the wise oneslooked knowing, and said:--"They had always thought it would come tosomething!"

At last Geraldi did what every one was expecting him to; for findingTeresa alone one morning, he again offered himself with far betterhopes and prospects than he had three years ago. To his infiniteamazement, the color fled from Teresa's cheek, and covering her facewith her hands, she sank upon a lounge with a wild burst of grief. Geraldi, quite at a loss to interpret the nature of this emotion, surprised at its excess in one so generally self-possessed, hesitated what course to pursue, but at length said, in a low tone:

"May I hope?"

"Hope!" repeated Teresa, in a bitter tone--"what have I or anyconnection with me to do with that word. O Mary mother, help me-helpme!" she wailed in a fresh agony as her whole frame trembled withemotion. 

Geraldi knew not what to say; with any other person he would haveendeavored to soothe and discover the cause of this grief, but theagitation of Teresa was so fearful, and in her so unnatural, that hedared not question; he therefore did the next best thing, which wasto keep silent. In a few minutes the storm had exhausted itself, andwith sternly composed features she rose and addressed Geraldi. 

"Forget this! It is seldom my feelings obtain such mastery over me, but my dark fate occurred so vividly to my mind, that it quiteoverpowered me. "

"Why not renounce it then? I would strive so earnestly to make abrighter one for you. "

After a moment's hesitation, she seemed to conquer some inwardstrife, and said, in a low voice:

"I had thought never to have told it to any human being, but you areentitled to an explanation, and you are too honorable to exposeme-Florian, " here her face was averted--"Florian, I love another!"

For an instant Geraldi remained without motion, then darting forwardhe seized her hand, imprinted one despairing kiss upon it, andwithout a word, was gone. 

Teresa wrung her hands and exclaimed--"Villani, Villani! Could youknow what I suffer, even your hard heart would pity me!"

The afternoon dragged heavily along, and evening was approaching, when a knock at the door aroused Teresa from a restless reverie. Bidding the person enter, she beheld Villani, who seated himself byher side, and informed her that he had something to propose whichmight please her. Teresa wondering what it could be, begged him toproceed. 

"I sincerely repent the compact I obliged you to make, and now wishto destroy it. "

Teresa looked at him in undisguised astonishment. "I do not think Iunderstand you-is it your wish that I should enjoy the whole of theproceeds of my singing?"

"You have said it. "

"And what concession am I to make in return?" she inquired, asthough suspicious some greater enormity than he had yet been guiltyof, was intended. 

"What return? O Teresa, cannot you comprehend and believe, that Iexpect and desire none?"

"I know not how I should, since your whole conduct has hardly beensuch as to impress me very profoundly with the idea that generosityis a prominent characteristic of Signor Villani's!"

"Say no more-let us be friends, Teresa. I will do all I can for you, and do not utter reproaches for what is a misfortune to me, althoughit were a glory to any other. "

His companion scarce credited her senses. Was it possible thatVillani, her tormentor and cruel persecutor, indeed wished her welland desired to become her friend? It seemed strange, yet his mannerwas more like truth than she had ever seen it before, and she feltshe had perhaps wronged him, that beneath all, a heart, human andaccessible to some generous emotion, yet beat, and her own noble, ingenuous nature, ever ready to accuse itself and offer atonement, impelled her to extend both hands to Villani and reply:

"Pardon me, I have wronged you-it is indeed worse than foolish tocherish animosity toward each other, and henceforth let us notforget we are of one great family, equally cared for by our heavenlyFather!"

Villani took Teresa's hands, and kissing them, thanked her so warmlyand earnestly that she could not doubt his sincerity, and though shewas aware love was impossible, she hoped to respect him more thanshe had done. Villani on his part, had acquired enough by Teresa toafford this seeming generosity, and his sole object was to win herlove; he was well aware if his motive was known to her, she wouldnot have accepted this proffered friendship, and he rejoiced thathis past conduct had been such as to forbid the supposition that hesought anything more. Presently there came a pause in theconversation, and Villani, after gazing intently upon his companion, observed:

"How much you have altered since I first saw you, Teresa. I supposeit is partly owing to your natural progress from childhood towomanhood-why, you must be nineteen?"

"Just twenty. "

"Perhaps you are even handsomer than you were four years ago, although I see you have called in the aid of foreign ornament-it wasthe wisest course, however. "

The rich color which suddenly dyed Teresa's cheeks, most certainlywas not the gift of art, yet she assented to Villani's words. 

"Not but what I think your beauty sufficient to challengeimprovement-indeed, I prefer you as you used to be-but you arelovely enough to cause heart aches as it is. "

After some further conversation, Villani, saying it was time forTeresa to prepare for the opera, left her. No sooner did the doorclose, than loosening the rich masses of jetty hair which formed aveil around her and descended far below her waist, Teresa advancedto a large mirror, and without a shadow of vanity or a smile, gazedsteadily at her reflection. Never had a glass shown a fairer face orform to the gazer. 

The image that met Teresa's glance was majestic, with a regalexpression of countenance. A broad, but not too high brow, eyes darkas a raven's wing-no, they are only deep, golden brown, yet the longlashes and eyebrows of jet, together with the ever dilating pupil, give the impression that they are darker, a complexion of sunnyolive, and locks which are certainly the hue of night; a form richlymoulded and of perfect symmetry, from the exquisite head to theslippered foot, stood before her. Surely it was not a vision fromwhich my lady had cause to turn in vexation, yet with an expressionof scorn, and a bright flush apparently of shame, mounting to hercheek, she impatiently moved away, and commenced braiding up therich tresses. Throwing a mantle on her shoulders, she descended tothe carriage and was soon at the opera house. 

During the evening, in the midst of the performance, Teresa's eyelit for the first time on the nearest stage box. A mist overspreadher eyes, her breath came hot and thick, a dizzy sense ofoverpowering fulness stole upon her, and when the time came for herresponse, she had hardly the strength to perform her part; yet sheacquitted herself so well, that her emotion was unnoticed. Theperson who caused this wild tumult in Teresa's frame, was a stately, handsome man, evidently of high birth, and apparently forty-fiveyears of age, although the raven curls around the high, majesticbrow were untouched by time. The slightly aquiline features, anddark, flashing eyes, revealed the haughty spirit within, which wassoftened, however, by the look of sorrow around the mouth, and thegeneral expression of a settled grief. He was dressed in black, relieved by a brilliant and splendid order on the left breast, andunaccompanied, save by a servant in white and gold livery. 

The nobleman, for such his appearance declared him, was evidently astranger in the city, for every glass was levelled at him, but heseemed quite unconscious, and wholly indifferent. At the conclusionof the opera, roused from his languor by the thrilling manner inwhich Teresa rendered the last aria, the now animated listener roseand gracefully threw a garland of white lilies with such admirableprecision, that they encircled the beautiful head of Teresa; uponwhich the audience, delighted at the compliment paid in so marked amanner, no less to the well known purity, than the wonderful voiceof their favorite, made the theatre ring with their applause. 

As soon as possible, Teresa arrived at her own apartments, andthrowing herself on her knees, buried her face in the cushions of alounge, while faint murmurs and sobs alone broke the stillness. Nearly a quarter of an hour had elapsed, when the opening of thedoor roused her, and starting up, she beheld Villani about to enter. Hastily motioning him not to advance, she wildly said:

"Forbear! Do not cross that threshold tonight! Villani, I have seenhim this very evening--he sat so near I might almost have touchedhim-so near, and yet not a thought that I was more to him than anyother of that crowd! Bear with me for this night-I must be alone. "

"It shall be as you wish--I will speak of what brought me here someother time, perhaps to-morrow. "

"To-morrow let it be then. "

Presently Teresa became calmer, yet through the remainder of thenight she sat by the open casement without motion or apparent life, thinking over bitter memories without a gleam of hope to illuminethe future. 

After Teresa's first agitation had subsided, the stranger's presenceseemed to exert a most powerful and calming influence upon her mind. He was seldom absent at her performances, and it seemed to give heran increase of strength as well as happiness; she always receivedsome token of his delight, and many said the Duke di Castiglioni-sohe was called-had a very superior taste, and wondered what wouldcome of it. Villani had exacted a promise from Teresa, that shewould not permit an introduction to him, and shortly after left thecity for a few weeks. 

Teresa felt relieved by his absence, although they were no longerenemies, and her mode of life was unchanged. Nearly a fortnight hadelapsed, when another incident occurred that changed the wholefuture of her life. One evening Teresa eagerly sought the familiarface of the foreign nobleman, but in vain, and a disappointed lookreplaced the smile; but presently he entered the accustomed place, followed by a young man of aristocratic bearing, but no likenessbespoke them to be father and son. Teresa turned pale as marble, buta tear started to her eye as she observed the complete friendshipand affection that evidently existed between them, and a thrill ofanguish shot through her heart, as she murmured, while her eyes metthe young stranger's gaze--"So near-yet so distant!" Several times inthe course of the evening she fancied a look of recognition passedover his face, and once, when he touched his companion's arm, herheart leaped to her mouth, but in an instant, perceiving they bothglanced at some one on the opposite side of the house, she smiledbitterly, and thought--"How should they know me, in this place, andso altered!"

Late that night when the city was wrapped in slumber, a lamp burnedbrightly in Teresa's chamber, and a figure paced wildly up and downwith clasped hands and floating hair. At last the restless girlstopped and exclaimed:

"If I am wrong, Heaven help me-but this agony is killing me! If Isin, I am sinned against, and God judge between us, Villani!"

Then hurriedly, as though fearful her resolution would falter, Teresa drew her writing-desk towards her, and wrote a note sorapidly, and with so unsteady a hand, that there was littleresemblance to her usual writing, and then sought for sleep-but invain-and at the earliest possible hour she despatched a messengerwith the note. 

Just as the hour of eleven chimed, the door of the room where Teresasat, was opened, and a servant, announcing Signor Da Vinci, usheredin the young stranger of the preceding night. He advanced with apuzzled, inquiring expression, and with a slightly apologetic bow, said:

"I came in accordance with a request expressed in a note fromSignorina Zampieri. "

"I presume you were somewhat surprised, signor, but my motive mustbe my excuse. I have a friend in whom you were greatly interested, and who wishes you to be made acquainted with the solution of themystery which separated her from you. "

The gentleman had hitherto been only attentive, but at these lastwords, an expression of eager inquiry pervaded every feature. Teresacontinued:

"This lady, five years ago, was betrothed to Leonarde Da Vinci. "

"Myself!"

"I am aware of that fact, but permit me to continue withoutinterruption. Well knowing her father would never consent to hermarriage, a plan of elopement was arranged. On the appointed night, the lady, according to agreement, stole to the palace steps, andseeing in the deep shadow a gondola which drew up as she approached, doubted not that the occupant was her lover. She was received, toher belief, in his arms, the light was burning but dimly, and forgreater security her companion, who was masked, proposed in awhisper that she should cover her face also. She was nearly besideherself with agitation, and when the gondola drew up at a littlechapel standing nearly by itself, she unhesitatingly accompaniedhim, and knelt beside the altar where stood a priest and attendants. 

"So absorbed with the various and conflicting emotions in her heart, she uttered the responses mechanically, and when she rose, thechapel was deserted, save by her husband and herself. Turning tohim, what was her horror at seeing not Leonarde Da Vinci, as she hadsupposed, but Villani Brandini, a rejected suitor, and seemingfriend to Da Vinci, who had discovered the plan of escape by somemeans, and revenged himself upon the lady in this manner. In spiteof her resistance, she was carried to Brandini's palace, from whencein three days she escaped; and fearing her father would never granthis forgiveness, knowing she was forever separated from the one towhom her heart was given, she managed by the sale of severalvaluable jewels which she had upon her person at the time of herflight, to procure a passage to Naples, where she hoped to turn hernumerous accomplishments to advantage. 

"Shortly after her arrival in that place, an American family, whowere in need of a governess for two little girls, met with her. Herappearance spoke so strongly in her favor, that notwithstanding theabsence of credentials, they engaged her, and in a little whilesailed for America. When near the place of their destination, aviolent storm arose, and they were shipwrecked. The young girl waslashed to a spar, and the last thing she remembered was, beingwashed overboard by a mountain wave. She was picked up by a merchantvessel bound for Havana. There she arrived in a state of utterdestitution, and she who was once the companion of princesses, wasobliged to sing in the street for a living, and now--"

"Viola-my long sought love-where, where is she?"

"She stands before you!" said a thrilling voice, while Teresa, nowdivested of her disguise, stood with clasped hands, eagerly gazingat Da Vinci, her long, bright golden curls enveloping her as with aveil. In an instant Da Vinci, recovering from his overwhelmingsurprise, had folded her to his heart. Viola, as we must now callher, after an instant's silence, disengaged herself, saying;

"We must not forget that we can never be more than friends, Leonarde. "

"Never more than friends, Viola! Why do you not know that you arefree?"

"Free! What is it you mean?"

"Is it possible you still believe yourself Brandini's wife?"

"Believe myself! Am I not?"

"No, my own dearest Viola! It was no priest who performed thatceremony. Two years since, a dying man confessed that for a largesum he had assumed the character of a minister of God, and performeda mock marriage between Brandini and yourself. Your father and Ihave been seeking you ever since your flight, and at last ourdearest wish is granted. "

"You are sure he will forgive me?"

"Forgive you! He has sought for you with the blessed hope ofclasping you once more in his arms before he died-for years, OViola, we have all suffered deeply. "

"We have, indeed, but now--" a shudder passed over her as she clungcloser to Da Vinci, on hearing a quick footstep in the hall. Anothermoment and Brandini was face to face with Leonarde. We leave thescene that followed to the reader's imagination; the torrent of ragewhich Villani poured forth, together with the fatigue she had latelyundergone, caused Teresa to faint in Da Vinci's arms, when Brandini, finding his villany was discovered, made a hasty retreat. A messagewas despatched for the Duke di Castiglioni, and in an hour Viola wasin his arms, and receiving his fall and free pardon. 

A week afterward the now united family were leaving Havana, thescene of so much grief and joy. Teresa stood on the steamer's deck, with her husband gazing at the city, when the pilot came on board. 

"Quite an affair came off last night, " he said to the captain; "anItalian gentleman, Signor Brandini, who ran through a splendidproperty in his own country and was a spendthrift here was founddead-blew out his brains-it was supposed to be some love affair thatcaused it. "

Teresa's cheek turned very pale, as she hid her face on Da Vinci'sshoulder, who whispered:

"So ends the last scene in the dark drama of thy past. Look up, myViola! The clouds are passed, and sunshine is over all. "

[FROM "THE FLAG OF OUR UNION. "]

THE ARTIST OF FLORENCE. 

BY JAMES DE MILLE. 

IT was evening in Val d'Arno. The sun was sinking behind the horizonand twilight was descending upon the glorious vale. There lay thegarden of Italy enclosed by mountains on either side, green andglowing in its verdant and luxuriant fertility, shaded by its grovesof olive and cypress, with long avenues of stately trees. Flocks andherds grazed in the fields, vineyards flourished on the mountaindeclivities, and in the distance arose the summits of the woodedApennines. The classic Arno flowed through the valley, bestowinggladness and plenty on every side, its waters rolling on in slow andmost melodious motion. On every side, on the plain, on the sides andsummits of the hills, everywhere appeared the white villas of thenobles, now hidden by the thick foliage of surrounding trees, andencircled by gardens where bloomed the most gorgeous and odoriferousflowers, now standing alone and lifting up their stately marblefronts surrounded by magnificent colonnades. In the midst of thislovely place, a queen over all around, lay Florence, the dearest andmost charming city of the south-Florence, whose past glows with thebrilliancy of splendid achievements in arms, arts and song, whosepresent state captivates the soul of every traveller, and bindsaround him a potent spell, making him linger long in dreamy pleasureby the gentle flow of the Arno's waters. 

"Here, " exclaimed Byron, in a rapture, as he looked down from aneighboring mountain upon this earthly paradise--"here--

 "'--the Etrurian Athens claims and keeps A softer feeling for her fairy halls. Girt by her theatre of bills she reaps Her corn and wine, and oil, and plenty leaps To laughing life from her redundant horn"'

Twilight came on, and soon the moon arose, throwing a gentle glowupon the scene, and shedding around it a more bewitching influence. It was an evening fitted for pleasing meditation, such meditation asthe poet loves, and for the interview of lovers. The gardens ofBoboli never appeared more beautiful than now, for the solemn shadowof the groves was relieved by the soft illumination of the broadpaths; the sheets of water glistened in the quiet moonbeams, andevery statue and every sculptured form was invested with a new andindescribable beauty. Upon the summit of a hill within thesegardens, sat a youth and maiden engaged in most earnestconversation. The maiden was exceedingly beautiful, with a facewhich reminded one of the Madonna of Murillo, so gentle, so tender, and so bewitchingly lovely. The youth sat at her feet upon the greenturf, and with his head turned back, gazing upon her, there wasdisclosed a noble and most handsome countenance. His long hair, black as night, fell from his forehead, and his eyes burnt likestars in the paleness of his face. There was an expression of geniusstamped upon his lofty forehead, but there were care and anxiety inits frown. The stately form of the Palazzo Pitti was near at hand, and in the distance lay the city, with the stupendous dome of thecathedral, and the lofty form of the beautiful Campanile. 

"Stella, " he said, in deeply musical tones--"Stella, you know all mylove and the desires of my soul. All are fixed upon you. Fame andglory I only wish for as the means of obtaining you. But O, hard isthe task and difficult is it for an unknown artist to gain the handof the proud Count Borelloni's daughter. I would not grieve you bytaking you without his consent, even if I were able. "

"Bless you! God bless you, my noble Mario for those noble words! Donot seek to draw me from him. Willingly would I give up all-wealth, and power and all-to live in obscurity with you. But my father lovesme so fondly, that if I were to leave him, he would die. Let uswait, and perhaps he may overcome his prejudice toward you. "

"He dislikes me because I am poor and unknown. But, " exclaimedMario, with a haughty glance, "the time may come and will come, whenhe will not he ashamed to acknowledge me. Art can ennoble the poorand obscure. "

"I know you will become great, Mario. I know that your name will bespoken with honor, and that before long. When I first saw you herein Florence, when I afterwards heard you tell me your love as wewalked by the waters of Lake Perugia, I knew that you would becomefamous. "

"And then, if I ever gain fame and honor, all shall be laid at yourfeet, Stella. "

"You can wait then, and seek for fame, Mario, to give you acceptancein my father's eyes. You can wait, for you know my constancy. "

"I know it, and I would trust it always. I know your noble soul, Stella, its lofty qualities lead me captive, and I worship you as adivinity. "

The impassioned youth bent down before her, but she prevented him, and suddenly asked:

"How do you proceed with your painting?"

"Well, I am proceeding well, for I am inspired by the thoughts ofStella. "

"Then I inspire you, do I?"

"O Stella, you fill my soul with new conceptions of angelic beauty, and while your image dwells in my mind, I look back upon it andplace every feature, every expression living upon the canvass! Ifthis picture is completed, your father's love for art will make himrespect the creator of this new piece. "

"And he will honor you and love you. "

"It must be completed in two or three months now. I seek new ideasof loveliness from you, Stella, and then my picture receives them. "

"And suppose you fail, Mario. " said Stella. 

"Fail? O I cannot. But if I do, then will I despair? No, I will goto Rome and devote myself entirely to art. But it is late, Stella. We must go, and I will see you home before your father returns. "

And the gardens of Boboli were empty. 

What city is so delightful as Florence on the afternoon of a lovelyday in early spring, when the sun glows above from an unclouded sky, and the Arno flows on through the midst of the city, amid itsmagnificent palaces, beneath its lovely bridges. Then beauty reignseverywhere. The Lung' Arno, the Casino, the Via Calziolajo arethronged with carriages, with horsemen and footmen, with offices andsoldiers, men, women and children. Beautiful flower girls carryaround their bouquets and bestow them on the stranger, expecting butnever asking some little doucer in return. The gloomy palaces of themiddle ages, the magnificent churches of early times, towers andcolonnades, statues and fountains, arrest the eye and charm thebeholder. All is joyousness and beauty. 

Among the throngs of carriages which rode along the Lung' Arno anddown to the Casino, none was more noticed than that of the CountBorelloni. It was a splendid equipage drawn by two fiery horses, toguide which the utmost skill of the coachman was needed. The oldcount was of a remarkable appearance. His countenance was noble andhis air commanding. He was noted through Florence for his wealth andtaste. Artists of every kind found in him a patron. It was at hispalace that Mario Fostello had first attracted attention by hisgenius and the beauty his pictures. He had seen Stella, had lovedher, and had spoken to the old count, telling him that he would seekafter fame if he would bestow his daughter upon him. But theindignation and pride of Borelloni rose high, and he contemptuouslyordered Mario to withdraw and never again to enter his house. 

There was one feeling in the heart of the old count which farexceeded every other, and that was an intense love for his daughter. Beautiful, high-souled and accomplished, she was worthy of thehighest station in the land, and such a station he desired for her. 

They now rode in their carriage-father and daughter; an aged oak anda young and tender vine, one supported the other, which gave itbeauty and attractiveness. 

Stella attracted the gaze of all by her exquisite beauty, but therewas one whom she saw walking swiftly past, the sight of whom sent athrill through every vein-for well she knew the tall and statelyfigure of Mario. 

"Stella, " said her father, "there goes the ambitious painter-that isthe man who had the unspeakable presumption to ask your hand of me. He, a paltry artist. See him as he walks along there. "

Stella's blood rushed to her face, and her frame trembled withagitation. She turned away her head to hide her confusion. 

"Look, do you see him?" said her father. 

"Who?" said she. 

"Why, Mario, the artist, but he is out of sight. What is the matter, Stella? Tell me my child, are you ill? Why are you so pale? Youchange color. You are sick, my daughter. We must go home. "

"O no, father. Do not go home. It was but a passing faintness, Iwill soon get ever it. "

"You are very pale, my child. "

"It is nothing, father. But look-what is the matter with thehorses?"

The horses seemed fretful and impatient. They reared and kicked, they were unruly and troublesome. The coachman looked pale andanxious. 

"The horses? Nothing!" said her father. "They are quiet enough. Ilike to have a little spirit in my animals. "

Many of the passengers in the streets looked with alarm upon theanimals whom the count dreaded so little. 

"Good day, Borelloni, " exclaimed a gentleman on horseback; "a mostbeautiful day!"

"Your servant, signor, " answered the count. "It is a lovely day. "

"Your horses seem vicious, they are very unruly, are they not!" saidthe gentleman. 

"O no-they are a little excited-they will presently become calm. Avery great number of people are out to-day. "

"Yes, a large number, " replied the gentleman, looking somewhatanxiously at the horses. 

After a few moments he rode away. 

"Your excellency?" said the coachman to the count. 

"Well?" he replied. 

"Your excellency's horses are unmanageable, or will be so soon. Theyare not used to these crowded streets. "

"If they do not become so soon, they never will be, " said Borelloni. 

The horses began to plunge, and rear, and snort more violently, somuch so, that all the people were terrified and got out of the way. The coachman seemed unable to control them. 

Mario was in the Casino, walking beneath the shadow of the trees. The cool breeze from the mountains fanned his fevered brow, as hewalked hurriedly along. 

"I am poor. I am an artist, unknown, uncared for but by one, andthat one is the noblest of her sex. I live only to gain her. When mypicture is finished, I shall be no longer obscure. When my fameexceeds that of the haughty count, I may well demand his daughter. "Such were the thoughts that passed through his mind as he walked on. 

"I heard his words, " he proceeded. "I heard his contemptuous wordsas I passed the carriage, and know the scorn which he feels for me. But Count Borelloni, " he exclaimed, raising his hand, "I will makeyou know that birth alone does not constitute greatness. I will makeyou know that a lofty soul can struggle upwards. "

Suddenly, far away from the Lung' Arno, sounded a loud reverberationof many voices, an immense outcry mingled with the deep rumbling ofcarriage wheels, and the fierce neighing of horses. There weresounds like the rush of a great multitude, and cries of terrormingled with one another in appalling confusion. 

Mario started, and turned back. Casting his eye toward the city, hesaw far away in places where the trees did not intercept his view, numbers of men rushing to and fro. 

He stood alone in the utmost perplexity, for no one was near to tellhim the cause of that great uproar. 

The clamor and rumbling of wheels came nearer and nearer, rattlingover pavements, dashing against obstacles. It came nearer, and soonhe saw a carriage dragged on with terrific speed by two furioushorses, who, without driver or postilion, came on unrestrained. Thecarriage was knocked against trees and dashed violently againststones. In it there was an old man leaning back with a pale face, expressing intense agony, and close to him, clung the form of ayoung girl-her arms wound round him, and her dishevelled hairfloating in the breeze. 

"O God! Stella!" exclaimed Mario, in unspeakable horror. "Stella!-myGod, she's lost!"

With one bound he rushed in the midst of the course taken by theinfuriated horses. His cloak fell from him, his hair flew about hispale and fixed countenance, and like a rock in the centre of atorrent, he stood in the way of the horses!

He waved his hands wildly-he shouted to the steeds. On they came, lessening for a moment their speed-there was a bound forward. Marioclung at the reins with the grasp of a drowning man-there was awhirl of dust, a rush of the multitude who followed after, and thenwith a sound like the sudden peal of thunder, burst forth theacclamation of a thousand deep-toned voices:

"Saved, saved!"

They raised Mario up-they placed him in the carriage, and bore hisinsensible and much bruised form slowly to the palace of Borelloni. All Florence rung with the tidings of the deed--the name of Mariowas spoken everywhere, and the city honored the performer of so boldan action. 

"Now what will Borelloni do to reward the gallant preserver of hisown life and his beloved daughter!"

"He will give him a thousand piastres, " said one. 

"He will enrich him for life, " said another. 

"He will do no such thing, " said a third. "Mario is no mercenaryman. He despises rewards of that kind. I will tell you. He loves thecount's daughter. "

"Ah, " said all. 

"And he deserves her. But for him she would not have lived to havehis love, nor would Borelloni have been living to refuse. "

"Does he refuse?" said they. 

"Mario said nothing to the count. It is an old story. He has lovedher long. But the count, who refused him once before, will not nowretract his word, even to the preserver of his life. "

Mario was cared for and soon recovered. He spake not a word abouthis love to Borelloni. He would not ask him now, for then he wouldseem to demand payment for his action, and such a thing hescorned-even though it should bestow upon him the hand of hisbeloved. 

"I will wait, " said he. "I will raise myself to an equality withher, and then Borelloni shall not refuse. "

It was summer, and the sun glanced brightly, gloriously, over thesilver waters of Thrasymene's lake, for such we love to call thelake which the Italians name Perugia. The wind blew softly over theplain, and the rich groves all covered with luxuriant foliage shadedthe quiet fields beneath, which more than two thousand years beforehad resounded with the roar of battle. The hills encircled the plainon three sides, protecting it in winter from the cold blast andcausing it to bloom with perennial verdure. The lake rippled on theshore of the other side, and stretched away-a sheet of moltensilver, till it watered the bases of distant hills. 

In this charming spot which every traveller loves to view, had theCount Borelloni reared a summer palace. It lay on the southern shoreof the lake, half way up the mountains, and in from its roof a scenelike one in fairy land burst upon the view, The cool winds whichblew here were an alleviation to the heat of summer and Florence, with its noise and dust, was gladly exchanged for the quiet scenesof this enchanting spot. 

There was a boat upon the lake, and the enjoyment of sailing formeda chief attraction to visitors, for Borelloni's villa was alwaysopen to his friends. Yet at times there was danger attending thispleasure, for tempests would arise and the waters would be convertedinto furious waves. 

"How beautiful is this lovely place?" said the count to hisdaughter, as they walked upon the terrace! "What a scene is this fora painter. See where the sun is setting over yonder-those cloudstinged with myriad tints surrounding him in glory! See above us, howintensely blue the sky, how clear the atmosphere! Look at theopposite shore-how green, how glowing in fruits and flowers-allagain appearing down in the depths of this unruffled lake! O Italy, my country, how beautiful thou art!"

"And father, look at these heights around us, and on the westernshore-these bold rocks with their summits all covered with spreadingtrees. How grandly they set off the picture!"

"If I were a painter, I know no scene that I would choose toportray, rather than this. "

"Since you respect and love art so highly, father, why did you notlearn this?"

"I was too busy in my youth, Stella. "

"Who of all you know is best in this art?"

"I know a great many excellent ones-many who excel in landscapepainting-many who are good in historic pictures, but of all whom Iknow, the one is undoubtedly the greatest, the one who excels allothers in mingled grandeur and loveliness of conception, and whoapproaches nearest to the grand old masters is he-the artist whosaved us from death--Mario. "

"Mario!"

"Yes, and if he had not been guilty of such great presumption, mypalace and my esteem would have been thrown open to himalways-first, because he is chief of artists, and especially becausehe saved my darling's life. "

"Yet is he so presumptuous, my father?"

"My daughter! Stella Borelloni, can an obscure man aspire to thehand of the fairest in Tuscany?"

"He may not always be obscure. "

"Why do you speak thus to me, Stella? Can it be possible thatyou-But no, it is not. I will not think of it nor speak of it. "

And shortly afterwards they went within. Stella retired to herchamber, and thought of her father's words. They gave her hope. Heno longer despised Mario. He could not. But he was angry at hispresumption. Obscurity was Mario's greatest fault in his eyes. 

"I will take courage, " she thought. "Hope comes to me. Mario'sgreatness of genius has been confessed by my father. It will soon beconfessed by the world. "

Meantime, Mario had become wearied of the heat of Florence. Helonged for quiet and seclusion. He wished to spend the sultry summermonths in some cooler and more agreeable retreat. 

"By the lake of Perugia, " thought he--"Stella lives. If I go there Ican see her as she walks or rides around. I can feast my eyes uponher, although I am resolved to remain unseen myself. I will take mypicture there, and receive that inspiration which her angelic beautyalways gives me. "

He came to the lake and dwelt in a small house upon its banks, scarce half a mile away. Daily he would go to the top of a cliffnear by, and when Stella walked out his eyes followed her, and she, always thinking of him, knew not that he was so near. 

When she departed to ride along the borders of the lake, or for asail upon its waters, he watched her, and sometimes encountered herdressed in disguise. 

For two weeks he remained there, and kept his resolution of nevermaking known his presence. But soon an occurrence took place whichcaused him to be discovered, yet in such a way that he rejoiced atthe discovery. 

It was a sultry morning, and desirous of coolness, Stella with a fewother friends resolved to take a sail upon the lake. There was athreatening aspect about the horizon, but it was unnoticed by thosewho were intent on pleasure. Borelloni remained at home, beingemployed at some business. 

Mario sat at his usual place on the summit of the rock, and watchingthe preparations, knew their object. An awning was placed above theboat-a high and broad awning, which could effectually keep off thehot rays of the sun. 

Mario looked with anxiety upon the preparations, for he knew thesigns of the weather, and feared the appearance of the sky. All wascalm, oppressively calm, and fearful to one who knew how suddenlystorms arise under such circumstances. He would have warned them, but he did not dare to, for fear of discovering himself. So he wascompelled to sit in a state of inaction and watch with feverishanxiety the approaching excursion. 

The party left the house, they were four in number, and the heart ofMario throbbed violently as he recognized the form and features ofStella among them. They went gaily to the boat which was nowcompletely ready, and soon were seated beneath the awning. As therewas no wind, sails were useless, so they were rowed out into thelake. 

Two or three hours passed away, and still Mario sat gazing upon theboat which was carelessly lying still in the middle of the lake. Mario watched them with anxiety, and occasionally cast a troubledglance at the sky. He would have made signals, but they were too faraway to notice them. 

The sky became darker, and there came a peculiar thickness andoppressiveness to the atmosphere. Still the boat moved not. 

"Can they be asleep? Can the rowers be insane?" thought Mario. "Thesky is clouded, and they do not notice it. O heaven, what can theydo! They cannot see the sky for the awning hides it. "

His attention was now attracted by a sudden voice from Borelloni'svilla. The old count appeared upon the terrace, pale and terrified, and waved his arms in the air, and screamed to those in the boat. The shout went across the water, followed immediately by the tollingof the great bell at the villa, which was now all in confusion. Borelloni rushed about like one distracted, sending his servantsafter boats to go out and save his daughter. 

"My daughter, my daughter, " he cried, "my beautiful Stella. O mydaughter!"

And with frantic gestures he rushed down to the water's edge, andshouted to the boat-at times gazing at the angry sky above. 

Those in the boat had heard his voice and seen the confusion at thevilla. Instantly the rowers put out their oars and turned the boat'shead toward the shore. They rowed fast, for hope was trembling andpreparing to take her flight from the souls of the endangeredboatmen. 

The deep tones of the bell, sounding loudly and fearfully, went overthe country, arousing multitudes of men, who left their fields andcame to see the cause of such unwonted noise. 

Mario sat on the rock till the boat turned toward the shore. Thenviewing the dark sky and the occasional flash of lightning, hedescended with fear to the shore of the lake. A half hour passed, and but three miles had been passed over. One yet separated the boatfrom the shore. One mile-a short period of time would suffice forthe passage, yet in that short time what might not happen!

But soon all suspense was over. There gleamed a sudden flash oflightning over the whole sky, intensely, terrifically bright, followed by torrents of rain. There was a short pause, and then witha crash-a roar that sounded like the wild rage of an earthquake, burst the awful peal of thunder-then peal on peal, roar on roar, rolled in long reverberations along the sky, round the rocky shores, and the heavens grew more intensely black! The storm had burst uponthem! Down came the blast of the tempest's breath, in anoverwhelming torrent of wind, and the whole surface of the lake rosein wild surges, foaming and tossing. 

When the first horrible confusion had passed away, all eyes werestrained to where the boat had been. It was nowhere to be seen. Amidthe gloom a few dark objects were all that could be descried in thefoam of the upheaving billows. There came a scream from that agedman who had watched the boat so intently-a despairing cry, and withhis white hair streaming behind him, he dashed forward to throwhimself into the water. The servants seized him and prevented him. 

"My daughter!" cried the old man. "O my daughter, she has perished!Let me go to her!"

"Look!" exclaimed a voice, pointing to the water. "I see a dark formamid the foam. I see it-it is a man, and he swims, bearing somethingwith him. "

All eyes turned there. The baron revived, and again looked hopefullyat the water, where the brave swimmer so gallantly breasted thewaves. 

But could it be his daughter?

They came nearer-nearer, and now the face was seen, and the hair, asit fell and rose above the water. It was-it must be-yes, that long, dark hair and those lovely features belonged only to Stella!

The old man bowed down his head and wept. 

Nearer, nearer, and now all fear was gone, for the bold swimmerstill showed an unfailing strength and energy. But his face wasunknown. None had seen it before. Yet Borelloni knew it-well he knewit. The same face had appeared amid the death struggle, the dust andwild prancing of maddened horses on the Casino. 

And now Mario touched the land. And now he bore his senseless burdenthrough the crowd to her father's arms. 

"O take her Mario, to the house-carry her there, or else she dies. "

But Mario laid her down at her father's feet, upon the grass, andvoicelessly, nervelessly fell down beside her. 

They carried them both to the villa. They cared for them, and soonMario opened his eyes and asked eagerly for Stella. 

"She is saved, and well. She is with her father. "

"Saved? then I am happy. "

He arose, and all dripping as he was, left the house, in spite ofthe eagerness of the attendants. 

"No, " he said, "my home is near by, and why should I remain here? Iwill go. Leave me. "

And he arose and left the house. 

"Where is the saviour of my child?" said Borelloni, on the followingmorning. 

"Gone?" said his attendants. 

"Gone? Fools! Why did you send him away thus?"

"He would not stay, your excellency. He said his home was near by. "

"Then go, I tell you, and search the country far and wide, and bringhim to me. "

After their departure, the baron remained in deep thought for a longtime. 

"Strange, " muttered he, "passing strange, how this painter seems tobe my genius. A good genius too-near in moments of peril. How helooked as his face rose above the waves, while he bore my daughterto the shore. Yet how can I give her to him? I cannot. "

The attendants returned at evening. Their search was unsuccessful. But one said that a tall, noble-looking man had departed in thediligence for Florence at early dawn. 

"'Tis well, " exclaimed Borelloni. "I fear to meet him. Better is itthat he should go. "

Summer with its heat had passed away, and mild September had nowcome, when Florence again becomes delightful. The villa atThrasymene was now forsaken, and the palace of Borelloni at Florenceagain was all joyous and thronged with people as of yore. Again thecarriage of the count rolled along the Lung' Arno, and he receivedthe salutations of his friends. 

Stella was lovely as before, but in her face there was a morepensive expression than usual, a sadness that was not customary. Forshe had not seen him whom she adored-the brave youth who had twiceesteemed his own life as nothing, in order to snatch her from death. And what could move her father if this could not? He was morethoughtful than before, and never spoke of that scene. He had nevereven offered to express his gratitude to her deliverer. 

Yet that evening she was again to go to the gardens of Boboli andmeet her lover. Her heart bounded with joy at the anticipation ofcoming happiness; and the moments seemed like hours, as they slowly, slowly passed away. 

Again the beautiful gardens were arrayed in loveliness, and beneaththe solemn shade of the lofty trees Mario again sat beside hisStella. They could hardly speak their hearts were full. 

"And so you were long by Thrasymene and never came to me, Mario, "she at length said. 

"I would not do so. It was enough for me to be near and watch you. "

"But not enough for me, " she cried, with tears in her eyes. "OMario! I am doubly yours, for you have twice saved me from death. "

"Speak not of that, " he said. "I must soon know my fate. My pictureis nearly finished. In two days it will hang in yonder palace, " saidhe, pointing to the Palazzo Pitti. "For-what do you think-the GrandDuke has visited my studio, and told me to bring it there. "

"The Grand Duke! Was he pleased with it?"

"He praised it in unmeasured terms. "

"I knew so, Mario. "

Blissful was the interview, and sad were the lovers to separate. Butthey had to depart, and soon Stella was at home. 

Mario, filled with pleasing hope, looked at the beauty of the scene, and went out for a walk. He wandered toward the southern gate, andwent out up a long avenue, where trees overhanging formed a long andshadowy archway. It was a still and peaceful walk at evening. He satdown at length behind the trunk of one of the trees, and fell into areverie. 

Soon he was roused by the sound of approaching footsteps. He lookeddown the road, and saw two men stealthily approaching, armed, andconversing earnestly in low tones. They stopped not more than twoyards from him and sat down. Mario could not be seen on account ofhis concealed position. 

"Federigo, " said one, "this is bad business. "

"What!" said the other--"a bad business?"

"I mean not bad, but dangerous. Now if it were only to take a fewpiastres, I would not care; but to kill a man, coldly and withoutprovocation, is rather bad. "

"But we get two hundred, you know?"

"Ah, there you are right. They will jingle pleasantly, will theynot?"

The sound of a horse's steps was heard coming down the road. The mencrept into concealment and were silent. Mario also preservedsilence, and clenching his stout stick more firmly, waited theissue. 

"He is coming, " said one in an earnest whisper. "It ishe-Borelloni. "

Mario's heart leaped within his bosom at the word. He almostdetermined to rush upon the villains. But it would be premature, andhe would be attacked. He could save the life of Borelloni moreeasily by waiting. 

The horseman drew nearer and nearer. He was walking his horse slowlydown the road. He soon came up a few yards from the spot where thesemen and Mario sat concealed. There he paused for a moment. 

"Will he stop, or go back?" whispered one. 

"No-hush!" said the other. 

Borelloni came on, he came abreast of them-then one fired a pistol, and both sprang out. One seized the horse, while the other draggedthe baron to the ground, crying:

"Say your prayers, old man. You must die. "

"Villains!" roared a loud voice behind them, and Mario, springingout, gave one bound and felled the wretch to the earth. The other, frightened and surprised, stood in speechless astonishment. Mariorushed up to him and raised his arm to strike. The man fired. Hispistol was knocked aside by Mario, and the next moment he laysenseless on the ground. 

Mario came to Borelloni and raised him from the ground. 

"Are you hurt?" he inquired. 

"Good God! Is it possible!"

"I am Mario. I thank Heaven I am here to prevent these ruffians fromexecuting their design. Can I assist you to mount?"

He assisted the count to get on his horse again. By this time atroop of soldiers, alarmed by the pistol reports, had come to theplace. 

"Take those men with you, " said Mario. "They have attempted the lifeof Count Borelloni. And accompany the count to the city. Butwhat-you are wounded. "

"No, the bullet only grazed my head. Mario you have saved my life. Iam speechless. I feel more than I can utter now. "

"Do not thank me. Thank Heaven who sent me here. Good-night, mylord. " And turning, he was soon out of sight. 

Stella sat in her chamber that night thinking upon her interviewwith Mario. She lost herself in conjectures about the future-sodark, so obscure, and yet it might be-so bright and happy. The noisebelow told her of her father's arrival home, and she ran down towelcome him. 

"My father! How late you are! But what!" She started back in horrorat the sight of his bloody forehead. "Are you hurt? are you wounded, father?"

"I was set upon by two ruffians, and would probably have beenkilled, if--"

"Attacked, wounded! O Heaven! You shall not go out alone, father, you must not. You are feeble, and cannot now defend yourself. "

She made him sit down, and tenderly washed his wound, and stayed theblood till the doctor came. After the wound was dressed the doctordeparted and Stella spoke. 

"You said you were saved, but did not tell me how, nor did you tellme his name. Do you know him?"

"Yes, I know him well, and have reason to know him?"

"Who is he?"

"Mario. "

"Mario again? Great Heaven!"

Two days afterward Count Borelloni sat in his study, musing upon thestrange occurrences of the few past months. His thoughts dwelt uponMario, who thrice had been his benefactor. 

"I cannot account for it. How intense, how absorbing, how wonderfulmust be his love for my daughter. He has treated my scorn withkindness. When I forbade him the house, he never came here. Iadmire, I reverence so lofty a spirit!

"Where would I be now-where would my daughter be, if Mario had notbeen near to save us, if he, careless of his own life, had not beenour preserver? I wondered before. Twice he had come before me-agenius-a preserver of myself and my child. Now he comes again andsaves me. It is wonderful! I am overcome. Pride cannot resist suchgreatness of soul-such magnificent actions, and Stella adores him. Ido not wonder at it. Shall I then refuse to make her happy? A fewshort years are all that remain of life to me. I wish to leave mychild happiness as her best inheritance. I can make her happy now. Ican make a return to Mario for his generous actions. I can makemyself happy in the contemplation of their joy. All is over. Farewell pride. What is birth and wealth and pride, when compared tothe glory of such illustrious actions?"

He sat down at his desk and wrote as follows:

"Mario, you have conquered. I have treated you with scorn andindignity. You have returned it with kindness. You have saved my ownlife twice, and twice have you saved the life of one for whosehappiness I would die a thousand deaths. Mario, I reverence yourlofty spirit. I admire such noble feeling-such bravery andgenerosity. Come to my home. It shall henceforth be yours also. Cometo my heart, which is proud to love and honor you. Come, and Stellashall he the reward which you shall receive as the best and mostpriceless gift of the grateful BORELLONI. "

He rose from his chair and called for Stella. She came to himspeedily. 

"Stella, " said he, "I have at last found one to whom I can confideyou, who will be your protector when I am gone. What do you say tothat? You change color-you tremble. "

"O father, why now? Why not wait for a time? I am young. I willnot-I cannot leave you. "

"You need not leave me. Your husband shall stay here, you both shallcheer my old age. "

"Father, I--"

"Read this, my child. "

Stella glanced at it, read it hurriedly, and in a transport of joyflung her arms about her father's neck and kissed him again andagain, while the tears stood in his eyes as he embraced hisdaughter. 

"Yes, Stella, all is over. I bow before him and do him honor. Thisshall go to him, and he will come here to receive his reward. " Hegave the letter to his servant, and again sat down to receive thethanks and witness the happiness of his daughter. 

An hour passed away, and a messenger came from the duke bearing aletter to the Count Borelloni. It was a request that in an hour heshould come to the Pitti Palace. "For, " said he, "I have latelyreceived as an accession to my paintings, a picture of such rareexcellence, such exquisite beauty in conception, and wonderful skillin execution, that I set no bounds to my joy in obtaining it. Knowing your passion for art, I have sent to you this notice of itsreception. "

The count hastened to prepare for his departure. He wondered whatwas the nature of the piece of which the duke had spoken so highly. 

"It must be a wonderful painting, " said he, "for the duke is usuallysparing in his praise. It is probably one of Rafaelle or Guido. Well, I will soon see it. "

Stella felt a joy which words could not utter. She recollected allthat Mario had told her of his picture, and of the duke's visit, ofhis flattering words of commendation-and she believed at once thathis picture was the one he spoke of. 

The count went off, and at the expiration of the hour entered thepalace. He was received by the duke. He was led through the longsuite of rooms where the splendor of royal magnificence is allunnoticed amid the charms of priceless paintings, for there theMadonna of Rafaelle tells of the boundless depths of a mother'slove, and there Murillo's Madonna breathes forth virgin purity. 

At length the duke stopped before a picture covered by a screen. Heturned to the count, and saying, "Now Borelloni prepare for asurprise, " drew aside the curtain which covered it. 

The count started, for not among all the galleries of Italy, notamong the priceless collections of Rome, had his eyes ever restedupon so wonderful, so living a picture! It was a living, a breathingform, which there, drawing aside a hanging, seemed to come forth tomeet the gazer. Upon the countenance there was the perfection ofideal beauty. Loveliness, angelic, heavenly, was radiant upon theface, and that face was one well known to him, for Stella stoodthere, but Stella-glorified and immortal. 

"Wonderful! Miraculous!" burst from his lips. "It is the creation ofa god. It is not the work of man! Who is he? Where is he? The geniuswho formed this? How could it happen that it should be Stella, mydaughter? Who is the artist?"

"He is here in the next apartment, " said the duke, and going to thedoor he spoke to some one. He returned, leading the artist. 

"This is he, " said the duke. "Mario Fostello. "

"Mario!" cried the count. "Mario, my preserver!" And he ran up tohim and embraced him. 

"Mario, is all forgotten? Forgive me. But I wrong you in asking it. "

The duke looked on in wonder, and could not conceal his surprise. But the count begged him to excuse his emotion. "Would you know thecause of it?" said he. 

"I am all curiosity. "

The count then related all-told him of Mario's love for Stella, ofhis own pride, of Mario's actions. When it was ended, the duke, whohad displayed the greatest emotion, arose and went to Mario. 

"Never, " he cried, "most noble youth-never have I heard of moregenerosity and greatness of soul. Happy is he who can call you hisfriend. But you shall not be neglected by me, for while I live, youwill always have a friend. I honor your actions. I love your noblecharacter. "

Mario was overwhelmed by mingled emotions of happiness andconfusion. Joy had rushed in upon him, like a torrent, and unable tospeak, he could only express by his glance, the feelings of hissoul. 

"God bless you, my lord duke!" at length he cried. "God bless you, Count Borelloni! I am unworthy of such praise, but I can neverforget your kindness to an obscure artist. "

"An obscure artist? No, not so, " answered the duke. "No longerobscure, you are the greatest in the land, and none shall call youotherwise. I name you count-and in a week your title shall beformally bestowed, so henceforth, Count Fostello, you may not beobscure. "

A week afterward the palace of Borelloni was all festivity. Lightsgleamed in dazzling rows within the long halls where all the flowerof Tuscan nobility, and all the lords and barons and great men ofother lands were assembled. For this was the day when the CountFostello led to the altar the lovely Stella Borelloni. The GrandDuke condescended to be the head groomsman. The magnificent form andfeatures of the noble artist were the admiration of all, and onlyequalled by the beauty of his bride. 

The story of his love and constancy, of his wonderful actions andsplendid achievements in the realm of art, was told to all, and thecity rung with his praise. All courted his friendship. All of noblenature loved him for himself, and the baser spirits were compelledto do him homage, for in him they saw the man whom the duke"delighted to honor. "

[FROM "THE FLAG OF OUR UNION. "]

A TALE OF A CRUSADER. 

BY CHARLES E. WAITE. 

CHAPTER I. 

 He whirls his sword, with unresisted rage, When closely prest, the Christian bands engage The high, the low, his equal prowess feel, The bravest warriors sink beneath his steel. 

JERUSALEM DELIVERED. 

THERE sat a palmer within the old baronial banqueting hall of PercyDu Bois. The wassail had not yet begun, and there was a pause in thefeast. All eyes were bent upon the travel soiled pilgrim, --for he wastelling a stirring tale of the martial deeds done in Palestine. Thevaliant Percy bent forward his anxious visage, --seamed by many ascar, gained in feudal broils and festive brawls, --and ever and anonburst forth, with uncontrollable excitement, into shouts ofapproval, as some daring achievement was recounted. 

His leathern doublet was frayed and stained by the friction ofoften-tried armor, and in his richly studded belt glistened adiamond handled poniard. Around his massive settle stood servants todo his bidding, while at his side were two or three shaggy hounds, resting their chins upon their master's knee-now soliciting acaress, and now a share of the banquet. Next to the sturdy baron satthe fair Joan, his daughter. Her features were regular, andsurpassingly beautiful, and her moist, dark eyes strained upon thepalmer, were eloquent of the deep and passionate feelings of herheart. The cut and fashion of her habit were well calculated toexhibit the contour of a bust, and waist that would have triumphedover the strictest criticism of a sculptor or painter-connoisseur. From the multitudinous folds of an ample sleeve peeped forth alittle jewelled hand, white as snow, and soft and round as achild's. The chair in which she reclined, was of massive oak, inlaidrichly with ivory, and canopied with purple velvet, embroideredwith, flowers of gold. Her foot-encased within the smallest shoe inBurgundy, and ornamented with a flashing jewel upon theinstep-rested upon a footstool of massive oak, magnificently carvedand inlaid. 

Together with the baron and his daughter, there sat upon a dais, atthe head of the board, several guests of distinction-all listeningwith intense eagerness to the tales of the exploits of theCrusaders, in battling for the holy sepulchre. Around the walls ofthe banquet-hall, were suspended the implements and spoils of war orthe chase. Crossbows and hunting-spears, helmets and corselets, thetusks of the wild-boar and the antlers of the deer, were displayedin picturesque confusion upon the walls, and within the niches ofthe apartment. 

"O, it was a glorious sight to see!" said the palmer, continuing hisnarration, while his eyes flashed, and his whole form dilated withenthusiasm. "The gorgeous trappings of the horses glistened in thesunbeams, pennons and banners flashed and fluttered in the wind, andthe axes, and morions, and gorgets of polished steel, surging andplunging, as the chargers reared, made the Christian army appearlike a billowy sea of silver sheen. Before them stood a host ofturbaned Moslems, defending the gates of Jerusalem. The crescentsupon their turbans gleamed, and long lines of myriads of scimitarsoffered a barrier of naked steel against the crusading host, whichhad come to rescue the Holy Sepulchre. I saw in the van of theChristian array, a knight locked in complete black steel, andenveloped in all the magnificent panoply of war. His charger wascoal-black, compact, and of gigantic proportions. The harnessingswere of cloth of gold, which swept the ground, --the bridle wassprinkled with stars and jewels, --and pendant from the bridle-reinwere fringes of the most precious stones. He rode by the side of thePrince D'Olivar, and he sat in his saddle, as if he were a part ofthe animal that bore him so gallantly. 

"'Advance, ' shouted the prince. 'Now to rescue the tomb of the holyJesus from the impious Saracen!'

"That splendid array moved quickly on, in all the pomp andmagnificence of chivalry. Amid the fanfares of trumpets andclarions, the clashing of cymbals, and the shouts of thousands ofspectators, they charged. Peal upon peal came the ringing of steel, as sabres crashed down through morion and gorget, or sword crossedwith scimitar, in unending clang. Wherever rode the knight of thesable armor, the success of the Christians was signal and complete. His dark plume was seen floating wherever the turbans were thickest, and the conflict hottest. Right into the midst of the Moslem hostdid his impetuosity bear him, and the heathen throng swayinguncertainly for a moment, finally broke, and dispersed in universalflight, over the field. I saw him fighting single-handed, with aband of Saracens, who had checked their headlong flight to attackhim, --and then the clouds of dust took him from my view. 

"Just then, from amid the rabble-rout of infidels, there burst asmall troop of Moorish horse. Swiftly they flew across the plain, hoping by dint of hoof to reach the city unscathed. Their silkenmantles floated in the wind, as they spurred their horses to the topof their speed, and they preserved the finest order in theirtumultuous flight. Before they had proceeded above a quarter of aleague in their headlong course, a knight in armor left theChristian ranks, and started in pursuit. He was mounted upon a steedof blood and bone, and though the sand of the plain was hot andarid, and unfavorable in every respect for speed, yet his mettledhorse bore him gallantly forward, and brought him nearer everyinstant to the foe. On he flies-at every stride he gains-spurs andharness jingle like the iron upon the smith's forge. The sand rollsup in huge folds behind his horse's heels-the polished steel flashesback the sunlight, as it penetrates the clouds of dust. Nearer andnearer he approaches, --madly plunged the horses of the Moslems asthey strove vainly to reach the haven of safety-the walls of theholy city. It is useless. The knight has divined the object of theirprecipitate flight, as a stifled female shriek is borne to his ears, and nothing can exceed the impetuosity of his pursuit. 

"'Turn, cowards! Deliver up to me the maiden!'

"On he thundered;-with a clang his sword leaped from the scabbard, and in an instant came crashing through a Moslem turban, and aMoslem skull-splitting them both in twain. Then the Moors turned. Sword strokes fell thick and fast, and nothing was heard but theclinking of iron, and nothing seen but the flashing of scimitars. Straight into the middle of the troop penetrated the knight, wheresupported fainting upon a rearing steed, was a beautiful Moslemlady. 

"'Zelica, have courage! I come to save you!'

"The infidels tumbled from their horses, as the blows of theknight's good sword fell among them, and several sought safety inflight. Those who remained continued the combat desperately aroundthe sinking maiden, as if determined to sell their captive'sdeliverance only with their lives. But four were left, and againstthese, who had drawn up in line, the knight was about to hurlhimself, when a Templar, in armor glittering with jewels and gold, came scouring across a the plain, and mingled in the fight. Butinstead of of helping the hotly pressed knight, he cleft his morionby a dastard stroke from behind, and but for the thickly platedsteel, would have thus ended his life upon the spot. The good knightwas hurled dizzy from his steed upon the trodden field, and theTemplar spurred against the Moors. His charger was fresh, and hisblood was up, so he had but little difficulty in slaying theInfidels, and reaching the beautiful captive. Seizing her in hispowerful arms, he was about to leave the spot, when 'Conrad, ' burstfrom the maiden's lips, and the knight who had been prostrated bythe felon blow, rose from the dust upon his knees, and hurled hisgauntlet into the Templar's very face. 

"'Stop!' he thundered. 'Release the lady, or fear the vengeance ofHeaven!'

"The Templar's visor was up, and as the glove struck him, his facegrew black with rage. 

"'Conrad D'Amboise!' he shouted, 'your attempts to thwart mypurposes are vain. Thus do I take vengeance upon you!' And plunginghis spurs into his horse's sides, he would have rode him down. Yes, "continued the palmer; his eyes sparkling with fire, and his wholeframe quivering with the most intense excitement, "he would havetrampled his bones in the dust beneath his horse's hoofs, had notthe sable knight burst upon him like a thunderbolt, and checked himin mid career. The dastardly Templar turned to fly, but the sword ofthe black warrior flashed from its sheath, and with a single vaultthat dark charger stood directly before him. 

"'Stand, and disgrace no longer chivalry!'

"The Templar closed his visor, and drew his blade. Sparks of firewere struck from the clashing metal, and tufts of crests were borneby the wind towards the walls of Jerusalem, as plumes were mutilatedby the ringing weapons. I saw that Knight Templar thrice borne tothe ground, by the powerful arm in the sable mail, and thrice ariseagain, like a phenix from its ashes, to renew the deadly struggle. As he recovered his seat the third time, almost spent by hisexertions, he threatened to plunge his sword into the heart of hissenseless burden, unless the black knight desisted from the combat, and declared his motive for assailing him. 

"'To wipe out the foul stain with which thou hast this day sulliedthe fair escutcheon of chivalry, in riding down a helpless Christianknight, and ravishing a defenceless maiden from the hands that alonehave a right to protect her! I will give thee thy life on onecondition, craven! Surrender up to me the maiden, and thou art freeto depart! But enter not a foot again into the Christian camp. Anarmy renowned as being the mirror of French chivalry cannothonorably harbor a miscreant like thee!'

"The form of the Templar quivered with rage. But his armor was splitfrom helm to gorget--his horse bleeding and staggering with pain andterror, and certain destruction could be his only fate, if hecontinued the combat. 

"'I yield to thy conditions, but when we meet again in fair field, Ishall dictate the terms of surrender!'

"The black champion lifted, as if she had been an infant, thecharming Zelica from the Templar's saddle-bow, and bore hersenseless form to the unhorsed knight. The Templar rode slowly andsullenly away in the direction of the hills of Palestine, and I havenever seen him since. It is reported that he has returned to France, and having renounced the oaths of his order, travels in the guise ofa simple knight, doing deeds that dishonor chivalry, and render himuniversally odious. The dark mailed warrior has remained inPalestine for a long period, doing mighty deeds of valor, andsustaining the cause of Christ with his powerful arm; but he leftthe Holy Land about the time of my departure, and is now on his wayhome, to share the laurels bestowed upon the valiant defenders ofthe faith. "

The palmer ceased. All eyes were still bent upon him, and all lookedsorry that his tale had closed so soon. 

"When did you leave the knight of the black armor?" asked thebeautiful Joan, crimsoning to the temples as she put the simplequestion. 

"It was above six months since, when I saw him at Constantinople. Hewas on the eve of departure for France with his retinue. "

The fair girl blushed still more brightly, and reclining within thecushions of her splendid chair, remained silent and thoughtfulduring the remainder of the evening. 

CHAPTER II. 

While the pilgrim was engaged in his recital, one of the guests atthe head of the festal board had listened with peculiar eagerness. He was a knight, tall and finely limbed, and attired with pointedelegance and taste. His pourpoint was barred with gold, and deepfringes of the same precious metal adorned its borders. His face wasswarthy from exposure, though classical in contour, and eminentlyhandsome in expression. His lips curled proudly, his nostrils werethin, and in every feature might be traced the unmistakable tokensof pride and sensuality. His seat was by the side of Joan, and hewas assiduous in his efforts to please her-performing for her allthose knightly devoirs which the gallant age of chivalry required. 

The eye of the palmer had more than once, during his narration, beenfastened upon this handsome knight, with incomprehensiblesignificance, and particularly as he spoke of the attempt of theTemplar to ride over the prostrate champion of Zelica, did his largeorbs cast upon the richly attired guest a look of mingled scorn andanger, which, had it been observed by the host or the other guests, would have tasked the skill of the greatest Odipus among them todivine. 

"Pass round the flagon! Let the wassail begin!" shouted the jovialPercy Du Bois. 

Joan retired to her chamber with her maids, and the revel began. Theboard groaned with the good cheer, and as the wine flowed morefreely, the constant potations of the generous liquor began to haveits effect upon the hilarity of the guests. They began to displayunusual license, in their songs and conversation. Broad jests wentround, and the hall commenced resounding with the shouts of anincipient revel. Seizing a flagon of foaming Burgundy, the knight ofthe gold embroidered pourpoint quaffed it to the lovely Joan DuBois. The health was received with a general uproar of approval, andwassail was drunk to many other fair dames, by the rest of therevellers. 

"'Destruction and death to the cowardly Templar, who battles againstdefenceless maids and unhorsed knights!"

As the palmer uttered this, he turned to see if all were emptyingtheir flagons. Every one except the proud knight had quaffed hisgoblet to the dregs with peculiar satisfaction, and a yell ofapprobation. His stood untasted upon the board, and his eyes glaredfiercely upon the palmer as their gazes met. 

"Knew you personally this Knight Templar of whom you speak?" heasked. 

"I did, " replied the pilgrim, "and I owe him a debt which Heavenwill yet afford me the means of repaying!"

The scowl upon the other's brow became more savage and lowering. Hemoved his position, and placing himself by the palmer's side, uttered in a low tone in his ear:

"Conrad D'Amboise, I know you, in spite of your disguise! Beware howyou interfere with me or mine!"

Without waiting for a reply, he strode haughtily from the hall. 

The revel was long protracted. At length the effect of the frequentlibations began to show itself, and one by one the wassailersdropped unconsciously upon their benches, or staggering left theapartment for their own chambers, until the palmer, who was ConradD'Amboise in disguise, remained the sole sensible occupant of thebanquet hall. He sat silent and thoughtful, by the reeking board, listening to the murmur of the wind, as it sighed among the boughsof the trees in the adjacent forest of Ardennes. His mind wasdwelling upon the events of the evening-the fierce demeanor of theknight-his insolent defiance-and his marked penchant for the lovelyand sole heiress of the honors of the house of Du Bois. The hall wassilent, not a sound broke the solemn stillness. The lamps gave fortha flickering light, and the vapor of the spilled wine poured up fromthe steaming table, and diffused itself throughout the room. Suddenly the harsh creaking of iron was borne audibly to his cars. The disguised knight was on his feet in an instant. He listened, andthe same rough, grating noise was heard again distinctly--apparentlyissuing from the corridor which led to the outer portal. Conraddivested himself of his palmer's gown, and drawing his sword, openedthe door of the banqueting-hall, and stood in the corridor. Cautiously he proceeded, and silently, until on arriving within afew yards of the castle entrance, the cause of the grating soundswhich he had heard was apparent to him. 

The outer door stood thrown wide open, and the night wind wasswinging it back and forth upon its rusty hinges, producing mostmournful melody. Surprised at so unusual a circumstance, heapproached the portal, and looked out into the courtyard. Before himupon the pavement were a dozen mailed warriors, mounted, armed tothe teeth, and motionless as statues. The pale moon shone upon theirpolished helms and corselets, giving them a most spectre like andsupernatural appearance. They stood directly before the archedbarbacan, which formed the entrance to the court, and appearedwaiting for the warder, to lower the drawbridge over the moat, fortheir exit. Without expressing any astonishment at the strange scenethus presented to him, Conrad D'Amboise glided from his post, andfavored by the shadows of the frowning battlements, gained a posternin an angle of the wall, and stealthily left the court. 

Above a quarter of an hour had elapsed after his departure, when theperfidious knight who had confronted him at the banquet, issued fromthe unclosed portal, bearing in his arms the drooping form of JoanDu Bois. Striding hastily across the pavement, and putting himselfat the head of the armed men in the court, he hailed the warder atthe gate. 

"Ho, there! Lower the drawbridge and give us exit!"

The bolts were drawn, and the chains clanked, as the bridge camerattling down across the gloomy pass. 

"On! Spare not the spur!" and suiting the action to the word, theknight drove his spurrowels deep into his horse's flanks. With asingle vault the steed cleared the ditch, and as he came down uponhis feet, stood front to front with a horseman in armor as black asnight. By his side rode Conrad D'Amboise, and in the rear was asmall retinue led by a mounted lady. 

"Stand! thou stain upon knight-errantry, thou curse of Templars, andreceive thy just reward!" shouted the sable knight, while his bladeflashed in the moonbeams. 

Paralyzed with astonishment, the false Templar slowly drew hisweapon, while the followers of both knights drew back to watch thecombat. Delivering the senseless Joan Du Bois to a retainer, theTemplar knight plunged fiercely down upon his opponent, cutting leftand right at his visor and corselet, in his progress. The blackwarrior parried the murderous strokes with infinite skill, and ashis antagonist was employed in drawing his rein to check his steed, dealt him a blow upon the bridle arm, which split his mail andcaused his limb to drop useless by his side. Infuriated with pain, and bursting with the conflict of all the savage passions of hisnature, the Templar now struck with the ferocity of a madman. Blowswere hailed down with most fearful vigor upon the armor of both, andgreat chips of steel were struck sparkling from the polished mail. Clang! Clang!-now the black champion is about to hurl his sword withawful force against the Templar's shoulder-the false villain's horsebecomes unmanageable-he rushes forward towards Conrad D'Amboise, whirling his sword wildly in the air. '

"Zelica!" he shouts, with a horrid yell of astonishment, as herecognized the mounted lady. "Ha! upon one I can at least takevengeance!" And he is about to transfix her with his hacked andbroken weapon, when a powerful arm intercepts his progress, andConrad's good sword drinks his life blood, through a cleft in hisgorget. 

It is the morning after the just punishment of the Knight Templar, before the gates of the castle of Percy Du Bois. Within a littleboudoir which looks out upon the cool shades of the forest ofArdennes, sit four happy beings. They are Joan and the sable knight, and Conrad D'Amboise with Zelica. The fair faces of the maidens glowwith blushes of pleasure, and the knights shine in the perfection ofmanly beauty. The hand of Joan is clasped within the palm of thedark hero-for she is his betrothed-and she gazes into his nobleface, with a look of love and trust that would have made St. Anthonyforswear his vows. 

"Will you renounce crusading henceforth?"

"I must. "

"You must?"

"The magic of your eyes is more potent than the cup of Circe or thesong of the Syren. It would be useless to attempt to evade it, as itwould have been for any mortal but the Ithacan hero to escape theCircean wiles. But trust me, my fair and true Joan, I would neverattempt to leave thee, even were it possible. "

Joan hid her blushing face in his bosom. She was perfectly happy. She had waited long, and her fidelity had been rewarded. 

[FROM "THE FLAG OF OUR UNION. "]

THE AUSTRALIAN FOOTMAN. 

BY JAMES DE MILLE. 

CHAPTER I. 

SHOWING HOW LOW THE GOLD FEVER MAY REDUCE A MAN. 

IT was morning in Sydney harbor. The wharves were crowded withshipping from all parts of the world which were already filled withworkmen busily engaged in unloading the cargoes. The hum of thethousands in the city beginning their daily work, rose into the airand spread far over the country. 

It was a beautiful scene. Before the city spread the noble bay whichforms one of the finest harbors in the world, all smooth andunruffled, for scarce a breath of wind disturbed the air. Encirclingthe water rose the green shores, here verdant and smiling withfertile meadows, and there wooded and shaded by pleasant groves ororchards. Ships lay around upon the face of the water, from whosemasts floated the flag of many a nation, some slowly borne on by thetide, with the wide spread sails flapping idly against the mast, others swinging slowly, from their fast anchors. And queen of allthis peaceful scene-appeared the metropolis of Australia, with itswhite houses, lofty spires, and thronged wharves-thus sheappeared-sitting in the prime of youth, laying aside her maidenhoodto wed the world. 

Among a crowd of passengers who had just landed from one of thenewly arrived emigrant ships, two youths might be seen, whoseappearance denoted a station in life much above that of their fellowvoyagers. One was a tall man, with a noble figure, in which strengthand beauty were finely blended, and a countenance upon which restedan expression of frankness. His features were handsome, his hairbeing dark and glossy, his eyes black, and gleaming beneath hisbrows as though they might read the soul. His companion was amerry-hearted fellow, with lively features and a pleasant smile. 

"Well, Melville, here we are at last, " said the younger of the two. "And now what do you propose to do?"

"Stay here of course. Why, Marden, my boy, what else is there todo?"

"Have you forgotten all that we heard coming out?"

"What-that it is hard to live here now-that the emigrantssuffer-that the diggings are crowded? Why, I believe it. "

"Well, what will you do?"

"I'll look out for a situation. "

"Pray, how much money have you?"

"Just half a crown, my dear friend, " said Melville, laughinglytossing two silver pieces into the air. 

"Half a crown! Whew! Why, I have five pounds, and expect to starveon that. "

"My dear boy. A man who has his wits about him need never starve inthis world. "

"Well, I do not see what we can do in Sydney. I thought the diggingswere not more than twenty miles from here, and I find they are morethan a hundred miles from Melbourne, --which is, goodness knows, howmany miles from this place. "

"Well, Marden, take, my advice and be philosophical. "

"Be philosophical! It was very well to be so at Oxford, when afellow lost a few pounds or owed a debt to some tradesman, but it'sno go when a fellow is ever so many thousand miles from home, andonly in the possession of enough to keep him from starving. "

"Do you know how much the immaculate Johnson, who came home so rich, had when he landed at Melbourne?"

"No. "

"Just sixpence halfpenny. "

"The dickens! Now I tell you I'll put off Melbourne. That's theland, my hearty!"

"Nonsense-you wont do any such thing. "

"Yes, I must. I can't do anything here. I want to get to thediggings. "

"Pooh, Marden. Don't be cast down. I don't care, though. I am worseoff than you. "

"You can't leave here, unless you become a bootblack or a servant. "

"By the lord Harry then, I would be a servant. "

"What! you would-you, the brillliant, the aristocratic Melville-the'double first' at Oxford? Bah!"

"Certainly. Why not? The truly great man is he who will not letanything cast him down. In short, if the proud Dame Fortune tries toknock him down she can't come it. That's the doctrine, my boy. "

"Well, my mind is made up. I will go to Melbourne. "

"What-go to Melbourne? O nonsense!"

"I will, certainly. What will you do here? Come with me toMelbourne. We can find a situation there. "

"No, not more easily than here. In fact I believe that it is muchmore crowded. "

"Hang it, I wish I had stayed at home. "

"But since you are out here, put it through, Marden. "

"Ah, well, " said he, with a sigh. "I suppose I'll have to, --and Imust be off this morning for Melbourne. The sooner the better, for Ihave little money left. We must part, old fellow. I don't see whatyou can do here, though?"

"I can earn a living, I have no friends to be ashamed of me here inthe antipodes. I suppose yonder is the vessel for Melbourne, " saidhe, pointing to one at the next wharf, on which was a notice to thateffect. 

"Yes, that is the one. "

"Well, I will help to carry your baggage there. Mine will remainhere. I am sorry we must separate, but since we seek our fortunes, let us do what we think best. Come on. "

And the two youths bearing Marden's trunk, walked over to theMelbourne packet, which was soon to start. Many others appeared uponthe wharves who were about to leave Sydney. Some were pale andsickly looking, others appeared like desperadoes; others had a faintgleam of hope on their countenances, but ah, very faint. 

"Look at those who have starved here, Melville. Can you stay? No, come. Let me go back and help you here with your trunk. "

"No, no, I will remain. "

"But, old fellow, do let me divide this money with you. "

"Thank you, Marden, you are a generous fellow-too generous. But Iwould not think of it. I have no fear but that I can live. "

An hour after Melville stood watching the packet, as with all sailsset, she left the wharf, and sailed slowly out of the harbor. Thewind springing up carried them away, and Melville, as the vessellessened in the distance, bade good-by to the last of those friendswhich reminded him of home. 

"Now courage!" he murmured to himself--"just let us sit down and formsome plans. "

He walked over to his trunk, and sat for a while. Strange situationfor a well born and well educated gentleman! To be on a foreignshore, with but half a crown in money, and a few clothes in a smalltrunk as his worldly goods. After a while he opened the trunk, andtaking out a piece of cake, made his morning meal. 

"And now for business, " said he, shouldering his trunk. 

He walked off with it to a small boarding-house near by, where heopened it and took out all his good clothes. These he carried to apawnbroker's who gave him twelve pounds for the lot. 

"Hurrah!" he cried, "twelve pounds! That I think will help me alongfor awhile. "

He then bought a suit of rough clothes, and going to his lodgings, put them on, after which he went back and sold his last suit of goodclothes for three pounds more. 

"Fifteen pounds I have now. Good-again! I will have my watch yet tosell if anything happens. But nonsense, with fifteen pounds I canmake a fortune. I may as well prepare now for prosperity at theantipodes. "

On the following morning there appeared among the strange crowds ofpeople who throng the Australian capital, a man of most strikingappearance. His air was high bred, but his clothes were coarse, andhe walked up and down with a large barrow filled with confectionary. He looked around upon all the people with a smile of unutterablecomplacency, as though he were perfectly content with himself andthe whole world. 

It was Melville!

"Ha, ha, ha!" he chuckled to himself. "I think I see myselfstarving. By Jove, wouldn't Aldborough laugh if he were to see mehere? And my eldest brother, the baronet-the head of thefamily-hem-shouldn't I like him to see me now! Ha, ha!"

"Confectionary, confectionary, " he cried, bursting into a loudertone of voice, which rang forth clear and deep-toned, as a bell. "Confectionary!" and then he added with grotesque modulations of hisvoice, "Confecctunarrry!"

"By Jove, how this reminds me of the little fellow in London. I'llgo the complete candy-seller. I might as well. "

"Ladies and gentlemen! Here's your fine candy, lozenges, apples, oranges, cakes and tarts! Heeeere's your chance!"

He displayed the most imperturbable calmness, walked up to ladies inthe streets with the utmost nonchalance, to sell his things, andthey, pleased with his uncommonly handsome face and fascinatingmanner, invariably bought. 

"The ladies! Bless their kind little hearts!" said he, gazing afterthe last two whom he met. "And that little one-what eyes! what asmile! Who can she be, and where does she live? She looked sobewitchingly at me! I'll follow, and see where she lives. "

Melville slowly walked after them, keeping at a proper distance. When they stopped at a house or shop, he also stopped at another, till they went on again. Our hero saw the younger occasionallyglancing back toward him, and almost fancied that she encouragedhim. 

"What a lovely creature!" he muttered to himself. "Ah, there is herhouse, now. By Jove I have it!"

He marked it carefully, and passing by saw the name upon thedoor-plate. Henry Inglis. 

"A finely sounding name. I heard her friend call her Emily-EmilyInglis. Ah, how dear is the name! If I were but rich, now. But I canadore her image till I become so. Yet what hope is there in thiscontemptible business Bah! never mind. I'll stick to it tillsomething turns up. "

On the following morning, Melville dressed as before, with hisbarrow of confectionary, went along Summer street where Mr. Inglisresided. It was a large stone house, four stories high, and one ofthe best in Sydney. He rang at the door and after a time Emilyherself came. She started, and a half smile came across herbeautiful face. Melville himself for the first time in his life, felt embarrassed-but he spoke up, and in the tone of a courtier, said:

"Fair maiden-can a poor confectioner offer you anything thismorning. "

"What have you?" said she, with a sweet smile. 

He brought in his trays and the beautiful girl bent down over them, while her long, dark tresses hid her face from view. Melville'sheart beat with delight. 

"You will find there as good candy as any in the city, " he said atlength, in a business way. 

She selected a large quantity. 

"O thank you, thank you, fair lady, for your kindness to a poor manlike me. "

"You are a stranger here, are you not?"

"Yes, I arrived only yesterday morning. "

"From England?"

"Yes, and another friend came with me, but he is off to Melbourne. "

"And will you not go?"

"I decided to stay here when he left, and now I could not-would notleave this place for the world. "

"You are prospering, then?" said she, with embarrassment, forMelville's dark eyes rested meaningly upon her. 

"Yes, and happy. I have my little--"

"Emmie, " said a voice at the head of the stairs. 

"Yes, pa, I am coming. Please bring some more to-morrow, good man, "added she, in a louder voice, "and if you hear of a footman whowants a place, send him here. "

"Thank you, miss, " said he, in the tone of a hawker, again, "I willdo so. I am very much obliged, miss, for your custom, miss, and Ihope it. Will be continued, if I can do anything to please you, miss. "

CHAPTER II. 

HE "STOOPS TO CONQUER. "

"Emily, " said Mr. Inglis to his daughter, "what a strange servant isthis new one of ours. He is one of the handsomest and boldestfellows in the world-looks as much like a gentleman as I do, and yethe is a servant. I declare I feel quite a reluctance to order himabout. And when I ride out, it is awkward to have such a noblelooking fellow as my servant, riding behind my carriage. He is anenergetic fellow, I saw him selling confectionary before he camehere. Did not you say he sold some to you?"

"Yes, " said Emily, faintly. 

"And yet he is not impudent, but is perfectly obedient. I cannotmake him out, however. He performs everything smilingly, as thoughit were an excellent joke. I wonder who he can be?"

"He is an Englishman. "

"Certainly, and he is well-educated. I know so. It is amusing to seehow popular he is with the servants. Ha, ha, he has got them all toadmire and try to imitate him. You should have heard a lecture whichhe delivered last night to them. I stood out in the yard, andattracted by some noise, looked in. There our new servant was, witha short pipe in his mouth, and a mug of ale beside him. The otherscalled out for a speech. Upon which he rose from the chair and gotupon the table, and spoke to them. "

"What did he say?"

"O I cannot tell you half of it. He made the wittiest and mostbrilliant speech I ever heard. It was interspersed with laughableanecdotes and poetical quotations flowed in throngs from him. Thehappiest hits and the most lively sallies. O, I was totallyovercome! He kept them in continual roars of laughter, and I couldscarcely contain myself. But now I must attend to some business. Emily, where is my desk?"

"In the dining room, " said she, ringing the bell. 

Melville came to obey the summons. 

"Henry, " said Mr. Inglis, somewhat awkwardly, "you may a-will it beconvenient? a-to-my writing desk-hem?"

"Certainly, sir, a moment, sir--, " and Melville disappeared. 

In a short time he laid the desk before Mr. Inglis, and stood in acorner of the room waiting any further orders. 

"Emily, I am in an awkward situation. There are some Frenchmerchants in Melbourne to whom I have to write, and I have forgottenmy French. Could you write a letter in that language?"

"Not grammatically, I fear. "

"I beg your pardon, sir, " said Melville, coming forward. "If you arewilling, sir, I will write it. "

"Do you know French?" said Mr. Inglis, in surprise. 

"As well as English, sir. "

A chair was given him, and he wrote at his master's diction. Afterit was over, Mr. Inglis thanked him, and said:

"I wish there was another here who could relieve me in a similarway. I have to write a Spanish letter to a Spanish house in thatrendez-vous of all nations, and I don't know a single word of thelanguage. "

"I know it perfectly, sir, " said Melville, very meekly. 

"You!-Spanish! Why, sir-why I mean-you are a prodigy! Can you writeanother letter?"

"I should be delighted to do it. "

And Melville wrote another, after which he carried the two to thepost-office. 

"There now! What can I make of a man like that? He knows far morethan I do, and acts as though he had been accustomed to the bestsociety. How on earth came he to be a footman?"

Emily's heart beat-she knew why, but she said nothing. 

Several weeks passed away, and it was a lovely evening. The sun wasfast descending behind the western hills, and a cool breeze from theocean blew refreshingly upon the city. Many carriages rolled alongthe roads which led into the country. Men of all classes promenadedthe streets after the toils of the day, and nearly all labor hadceased. 

Emily and her father rode along one of the avenues which lie withoutthe city. It was a quiet place, for few people were there. Aroundlay green fields, orchards and groves, pastures where cattle grazed, and vast fields filled with flocks of sheep. Melville rode behind ata little distance, gazing upon Emily as though his whole soul werewrapt up in her. 

"What will not a man do for love? Here am I a servant for Emily'ssake. Beautiful girl. I would do a thousand times as much to gainsome of those tender glances which she at times bestows upon me. "

"Emily, " said her father, "Is not your horse restive? He starts. Ifear he will be troublesome. "

"O no, father, it is only his spirit. " Melville gazed anxiously atthe horse, which occasionally started, rearing a little and swinginghis head in a vicious manner. 

"Take care! O heavens!" suddenly cried Mr. Inglis, as Emily's horsestarted at the sight of a blasted tree. He snatched at the reins. The horse, disturbed by this unexpected attack, reared up andpranced furiously. 

"Father! O save me!" cried the terrified girl. Her father sprangonce more at the reins-the horse darted forward, and then with awild neigh, stretched out his head, and away he went, away, away, with the speed of the wind!

"O God! O heaven!" cried the father, in agony. 

For a moment Melville paused-for an instant-and then lashing hishorse he rushed on furiously in pursuit of the frightened steed ofEmily. On they went, the pursuing and the pursued. People who werein the road, seeing the fierce beast, shrank away. Emily, pale asmarble, still kept her seat, clinging to her horse, but every momentexpecting death. She heard the voice of one pursuing, and her hearttold her who it was. 

Away they went, and nothing was gained on either side. Melvilleshuddered, and beat his horse to increase his speed-a little wasgained, but not enough to admit of hope. On they went. At length theroad took a long winding around a spot where the ground made adescent, and ended in a deep gully. Emily's horse followed the roadand sped on in his headlong course. 

Melville suddenly paused, and looked at the gully. The grounddescended gently, the gully was about twelve feet wide, but itsperpendicular sides descended to an unseen depth-stones and rockswere strewed around on both sides. 

Melville shut his mouth tightly, and lashed his horse. With onespring he cleared the stone wall of the field, and then dashedfuriously over the stony ground. It was a fearful sight. Emily sawit as she clung closely to her horse, and the yawning gulf and thefearful deed of Melville took away all thought of herself. Shescreamed in agony!

But on went the brave horse-on to the deep gully. Heprepared-Melville lashed him. One spring-one bound-and the deepchasm was cleared, and away he went-the brave youth, up the otherside. Another bound and he was over into the road, just as the horseof Emily, all foaming and perspiring, came up. He rushed before thehorse, and with a giant grasp seized the bridle and stopped hisfurious career. The jerk threw Emily backward. She fell intoMelville's outstretched arms. 

The horse stood trembling. Melville dismounted, and took Emily to aseat near by. She looked at him so kindly, so tenderly, that a floodof happiness rushed through his soul. 

"O thank you, my brave preserver!"

"I am recompensed beyond all that I can hope, in seeing you safe. "

"Where is my father?"

"He is coming. There he is! He will be here in a few moments. "'

"You did a terrible thing, " she said, as she thought shudderingly ofthe gully. 

"Did you see me?"

"It was an awful thing to see. I shuddered. "

"O then, happy am I if I can gain the smallest share of sympathy-thesmallest thought from you. "

"You risked your life, too, "--she did not finish, but looked at him, and their eyes met. Hers fell down. 

"Emily!"

She did not reply, but lowered her head. Through the thick ringletsof hair which clustered around her head, Melville could see a gentleblush which overspread her lovely features. 

"Emily-speak, Emily-can you think well of me. "

She raised her eyes and again they met his. 

What the impassioned youth might have said, we cannot tell, but hewas prevented from speaking by Mr. Inglis, who at this moment cameup. He leaped from his horse. 

"Emily, my child, are you saved!" he cried, rushing towards her, andfolding her in his arms. 

"Yes, I am alive, dear father, and there is my preserver. "

"Noble, brave youth. May the richest blessings of Heaven descend onyou. You have saved my child from death. I saw you risk your own atthat terrible chasm. O that I could fittingly reward you!"

There was one reward which he could give. 

CHAPTER III. 

FORTUNE FAVORS THE BRAVE!

Mr. Inglis again sat in his parlor, and Emily was near. There was athoughtful expression upon his face. Occasionally she glanced at herfather, to see what he was doing, or perchance to endeavor todiscover what thoughts were in his mind. 

"Emily, " said he, at length. 

"Father. "

"I know not how to reward Henry. What can I do? I am in want of ahead clerk. I wonder if he understands business. I will ask him. "And he rang the bell. 

Melville appeared. 

"Good morning, " said Mr. Inglis, grasping his hand. "I can have youas a servant no longer. Permit me to esteem you as a friend, forsurely you are my equal, and you have laid me under unspeakableobligations to you. Do you know anything of business?"

"What kind, sir?"

"Any kind-shipping business. "

"Yes sir, thoroughly. I have been in situations where I learned it. "

"Take off this servile dress. Live in my house as my friend, and ifyou wish, I will take you as my head clerk. "

"Your clerk, Mr. Inglis! How-how can I thank you?"

"Think not of thanks. That is my business. Come with me and I willshow you what is to be done. "

And the two departed. Melville first went to purchase moreappropriate clothing, and then went to Mr. Inglis's office. 

A year passed away. Melville had been prosperous beyond all hishopes. Immense profits could then be obtained from chartering shipsand from exporting wool. Materials of food and clothing for the goldregions at Melbourne, could also be sold at enormous profits. Mr. Inglis had kindly advanced him money to commence independentspeculations. This he had so well used, that at the end of the yearthe original amount had increased ten-fold. 

"Ten thousand pounds! In one year too! And at the same timepunctually fulfilling every duty as clerk. Mr. Melville, you are theparagon of clerks. With your genius and energy you will soon beamong the wealthiest in the country. You have now a fortune of yourown. I have long wanted a partner in my business, for I am growingold. You can enter without feeling any great inferiority. Will youdo so?"

"You are overwhelming me with kindness, " said Melville, in afaltering voice. "How can I ever repay you? To be in partnershipwith you, is such a grateful thing to me that I can never thank youenough. "

"O there is no need of thanks. I am happy to do this. One like you, I may say without flattery, can very rarely be found. But how verystrange is the fate which threw you in my way! What wonderfulcircumstances! A servant in my family! A gentleman like you to be aservant? What led you to it? Surely you could have gained a livingin a less unpleasant way. "

"It has turned out my blessing, " said Melville. 

In the evening, Melville, the new made partner sat alone with Emilyin the parlor. It was dark, and the heavy curtains which hung beforethe window increased the gloom. The moon's rays entered and fellsoftly upon the floor. 

"What a strange life yours has been, " said Emily. 

"Yes. Do you remember when you saw me first?"

"Well-I always shall remember it-the young confectioner with his boxof candy. "

"I will bless that box of candy forever. "

"I have often wondered why you became a servant. "

"Ah, why should you wonder? Emily, can you not guess? Would anylight cause make me do it?"

She was silent. 

"Blessed be the day when I became a menial. I saved you from deaththrough that. O, do you ask what made me? A light had beamed acrossmy path. I had seen you, Emily. "

Still no reply. 

"I would have done anything. To see you daily-to be near you-to hearyour voice. O, it was joy to me such as I cannot describe. And Ithought at times that you looked kindly at me--that you saw throughmy motive-that you-yes, Emily, that you even cared something for me. Did you not, Emily? Did you not?"

A low reply sounded gently in his ears:

"Yes, Henry. "

"Emily, my own Emily. Would you call it presumption in me if I toldyou that I loved you? You know it already; you must know it. Can Ihope, dearest Emily?"

A low reply again came, which sent a thrill of rapture to the heartof Melville. He wound his arms lovingly around the happy Emily, and--

"Halloo, what are you two people doing over there in the corner?"said the voice of Mr. Inglis, half suffocated with laughter. "Finedoings-hem. Speak up, sir. What is this. "

Melville with his arm around the waist of Emily, and her hand inhis, walked up to Mr. Inglis. 

"I have been seeking another partner, sir. "

"Ho, ho-you have, have you?"

"Yes sir, and I thought--"

"You thought, did you, sir, and pray, sir, what business had you tothink? Were you not sure of it-sure of her, you young dog, and of mealso? I love you, my brave young friend, and I felt an affection foryou when you first came here. Take her and be my son. You saved herlife and she is yours. But be silent, now-none of your thanks. Itell you I wont put up with them. "

The happy party sat down. Melville by the side of Emily, and Mr. Inglis opposite them, viewing them with the utmost delight. 

"But Henry, tell us something of your former life. Whose son areyou?"

"I was going to say, 'the son of my father, ' but that not beingsufficiently definite, I will tell you my father's name. I am theyounger son of Sir Edmund Melville, Melville Hall, Warwickshire, England. "

"The-ahem!" cried Mr. Inglis. "A baronet's son! Whew, and you weremy servant!"

"I entered at Eton, nobody cared for me at home. I went throughOxford, took first honor in the university, then went home, butbeing only a cipher-alias a younger son, they treated me coldly. Myfather advised me to join the army. I told him I would see the armyshot first. My mind was made up to come here. Two hundred guineasconstituted all my fortune. All these I spent either before orduring the passage out. When I landed here I only had a half crown!"

"Good heavens, only half a crown!"

"All that I had in the world, except my clothes. I sold them andcommenced the business of confectioner. You know the rest. "

"Why did you decide to be a servant? Ah, I know now. You look downat that little witch of a girl who is almost crying with joy. "

"I'm not, pa. What nonsense!"

"Crying with joy. And she looks knowingly at you. Ah, ha? You havebeen rehearsing the play of 'She stoops to conquer, ' only it was thegentleman in this case. But now all your troubles are over. "

"All over. I am happy. "

And his large, dark eyes gleamed with the joy which dwelt withinhim. 

"Will three weeks be too soon, Emmie dearest?" said he, in amysterious whisper. 

"Nonsense, Henry, " and there came a smothered "don't, " for Mr. Inglis had left them alone for a little time. 

A few days afterward Melville was standing upon a wharf watchingsome passengers who landed from a vessel late from Melbourne. Suddenly he started. "Why, Marden, " he cried, springing forward tograsp the hand of a forlorn looking individual in a tattered hat andtattered coat. "Where are you bound, young 'un?"

"Home. "

"Home? how is that? Have you made your fortune?"

"No. I'm as poor as a rat. Only earned enough to take me back. Hangthe gold country! But I declare, you look as if you had made yourfortune. "

"I have. But tell me, would you go home if you could get a goodsituation here?"

"No, indeed. "

"Then stay. But first come to a hotel and 'renovate. ' If you wantmoney, I can lend. "

"Hurrah! I don't want money. Since I am sure of a situation, I willlay aside the ragamuffin character, and be once more a gentleman. "

"And in two weeks hold yourself in readiness to--"

"To--to what?"

"To attend my--"

"Well?"

"My--well, my wedding. "

And he did attend his wedding--and a happy occasion the event provedto all. 

[FROM "THE FLAG OF OUR UNION. "]

THE CORSAIR OF SCIO. 

BY JAMES DE MILLE. 

CHAPTER I. 

 The isles of Greece! the isles of Greece! Where burning Sappho loved and sung; Where grew the arts of war and peace, Where Phobus rose and Delos sprung-- Eternal summer gilds them yet, But all except their sun is set. 

-BYRON. 

IT was morning among the islands of Greece and the dark blue sea onevery side showed not a ripple upon its bosom. The sky was as calmand peaceful as the water which reflects its azure hue, and not acloud appeared to mar its surface. The sun just rising cast a broadgleam of light over the scene, and threw upon the wide sea a longpath of ruddy light. Around lay the isles of Greece--the home ofclassic poetry, whose trees and gentle brooks, whose groves andfields, whose very rocks and soil, bring up before the mind gloriousmemories of the past. There they lay, appearing double as theirimages were seen reflected in the mirror-like wave, the branches oftheir clustering trees hanging down gracefully--droopingly. But moreglorious than all the lovely spots which dot these sparkling wavesis Scio-the beautiful, the classic Scio. Here were the remains ofmany a glorious temple of the ancients. Here were rich vineyardswhose vine yielded the famous Chian wine. Here the long avenues oforange trees and olives, of citron and lemons, appeared on everyside, and odorous breezes from the East, laden with perfumes ofspices and flowers, blew ever gently upon the blest shores of Scio. 

It was in the middle of the eighteenth century, when Scio was at theheight of her glory and prosperity, when the people were wealthy andhappy, and all was delight and pleasure-it was at such a time that asmall vessel might have been seen at a short distance from hernorthern coast. Every stitch of her broad latteen sails wasunfurled, but no favorable wind came to fill them-no motion was inthe air. Upon the south the green and richly wooded shores of Sciostretched along, upon which at times appeared the sheen of somemarble cliff as it jutted out among the green vegetation. 

The vessel was long and sharp. Two tall masts supported the broadtriangular sails, and a red flag without device floated from thesummit of the main; men appeared dressed in the Grecian costumelolling about the deck, some smoking, others talking, and otherssleeping. At the stern the leader paced up and down. He was young, and had in his face all the high spirit and impetuous daring ofyouth. His features were perfectly Grecian, all as finely formed asthose of some antique statue of his native land. A small fur cap wasplaced upon his head, from beneath which rich clusters of raven hairflowed down. His eyes were large and dark, and a jetty moustache andbeard completed the manly expression of his countenance. He wore arich crimson jacket, embroidered with gold, loose trousers withboots which reached to his knees, and a red silk scarf wound aroundhis waist afforded a place where to put two pistols and a Turkishdagger. A larger sword dangled at his side, and in his hand he helda long light gun which, like his pistols, was richly ornamentedafter the oriental fashion. 

"Maffeo, " said he to his lieutenant, "how goes the wind now!"

"There is not any wind to go, " said Maffeo, a strong and hardy manwho was leaning over the side. 

"Well, I think we will have a wind very soon. "

"A wind? Do you? Why?"

"I feel it. "

"You can always tell, I know not how, when there will be a wind. Weare ready for it, however. "

"Maffeo, what was that you heard about these cursed Turks, when youwere ashore?"

"Didn't I tell you? Well, I heard that they had landed upon Komao, alittle island near--"

"I know it well. "

"Where there were only a hundred inhabitants. Monilon, the principalman there, was seized, beaten, robbed, and the worst of it was, hisdaughter Iona was carried away. "

"What! carried away? Iona! I have heard of her as the most beautifulof all Grecian girls. "

"She is gone like many others to the slave market atConstantinople. "

"Ah, the accursed hounds! the dogs of unbelievers! Thus theytyrannize over us, and rob our men, and carry off our virgins. Butgreat Heaven, shall this be done longer? Ah, the wretches! Maffeo, this will make us whet our swords more readily upon the next Turkswith whom we fight. "

"Whew!, there comes the wind! see how it blows around yon rock. "

"And by all the holy saints and angels, Maffeo, there is a Turkishvessel. Ha! two vessels. By heaven, there are three!" he cried, asone after another three vessels came borne by the wind around thepoint where it blew. 

"How can we get off? We have no wind. They will be upon us. -See, each vessel is larger than ours, and the decks are crowded witharmed men: See that long gun. It can shatter us to pieces!"

"Peace, Maffeo. Be not so fearful. The wind will come to us beforethey can get near enough to use that long piece. Halloa there! up mymen! There are three Turkish ships behind us!"

With many an oath and imprecation, the sailors rose and hastilygathered their arms. One of them strung up at the foremast anotherflag, on which appeared a crescent beneath a cross. 

"Now my brave men, we will have to run. But we do not always do so. Perhaps the time will come when we may have our turn at chasing. Ifthey come up, fight, fight like fiends, and die like Christians!"

Loud cheers arose and shouts of "Long live Ranadar! Long live ournoble captain, the brave Ranadar!"

And now the wind which Ranadar had prophesied, came down to them. Itblew steadily and strongly, so that in a short time her sharp prowdashed the bright waves foamingly on either side. The Turkishvessels who had borne down toward the corsair, as soon as they sawhim, and had felt certain of seizing him, now uttered cries ofdisappointment, as they saw him move away. Loud cries were sentacross the water, shouts of ridicule and opprobrious names which thewind bore along to their ears. 

Ranadar looked back and shook his scimetar at the Turkish vessels. 

"Howl on! The time will come when you will tremble beforeme-Ranadar, the corsair!"

He cried so loudly, that they seemed to have heard him, for suddenlya shot came from the long gun, but it fell short, far short of themark. The men of Ranadar shouted in derision, and jerked the flagwhenever appeared the humiliated crescent, so as to attract thenotice of the Turks. 

Ranadar gazed anxiously upon his pursuers. Still they came boundingover the waves behind him, and his quick eye could not but see thatthe distance between them was gradually lessened. 

"Maffeo, they are coming up to us. "

"What, can a Turkish vessel equal our swift ship?"

"These are sharp, and see what huge sails they carry. I fear theywill come up with us. "

"Well, we will fight them-yes, all three!"

"Good, Maffeo. You are a brave man. Tell this not to the men for atime, yet. "

Ranadar watched more anxiously. The hours of day passed on, andmidday arrived. Though his own bark was swift, yet these wereevidently more so. At morning, the foremost was about two miles off. Now not more than a mile separated them. 

"Before night it will all be up. O the scoundrelly Sciotes! Why didthey not give notice of this?" and Ranadar walked anxiously about. 

"Men, " he cried at last. "Ho, there! Listen. We are lost. TheseTurks will overtake us. But who will think of yielding? None?"

"No, no, none, " cried the men. 

"Then let us fight. Prepare a train, and when all is ready, when ourdecks are full-then fire, and blow these Infidels to perdition! Wewill make the Turks remember us, and when they pursue anothercorsair they will tremble, for they shall think of Ranadar thecorsair. " In obedience to his orders the train was prepared, but asit would be some time before their pursuers would come up to them, they did not make any preparation for soon firing it. 

Three hours more passed, and now the nearest ship had arrived withingunshot. The long gun was loaded after some trouble, and pointeddirectly at the corsair vessel. Ranadar and his men cried out intones of defiance. At last the shot came. A loud explosion thunderedaround, a ball came whizzing by, and passed through the sails, butdid not touch the mast. 

"What use is there to run, Maffeo?"

"None, whatever, captain. "

"Are the guns all-ready-loaded?"

"Yes, every one. "

"Bring them out so as to place them easily on this side. "

The men loosed the guns which were not very large, and made themready to be placed on the side opposite. 

"Now! 'Bout ship-round with her!"

The men who understood Ranadar's design, obeyed, and the vesselturning, now bore down upon the nearest Turkish vessel. Those onboard seemed perfectly thunderstruck at the sight of the chase thusturning the tables upon them. 

"Fire!" he cried, as he arrived opposite the Turks. 

The guns were fired directly into the crowded ship. Loud cries andscreams, and the crash of a falling mast told how well those shotshad been aimed. 

"Now for the next!" screamed Ranadar, excited. "We will serve themin the same way!"

But the others were prepared, and drew up to await their approach. On came the vessel of Ranadar, and the flags flew proudly from bothmasts, while the men shouted enthusiastically. Loud sounded thethunder of her guns as she passed swiftly by the two vessels. Butthe report and the cries from the wounded were all exceeded by thatof the broadside given back by the Turks. The mainmast fell downover the side with a deafening noise!

"Cut it away! Clear the ship!" cried Ranadar. 

In a few minutes the mast was free, but the vessel moved only slowlythrough the water. Her sides were shattered by those terrificbroad-sides, wounded men lay stretched upon the decks. The twoTurkish ships were quite near. 

"Give it to them again, my rovers!" cried Ranadar, as he himselfpicked out the Turkish captain with his gun. Another volley wasfired and again another, with the same effect as before. And thiswas the last, for both Turkish ships coming quickly up firedbroadsides, and grappled with the disabled corsair. 

The men poured from both ships into her. The Greeks seized theirscimetars and rushed into the deadly encounter. Maffeo fought like alion, killing three Turks in succession. Ranadar fired his pistolsand killed two of the foremost leaders. Then hurling them at theheads of the followers, he rushed at them sword in hand. "Fight, Greeks, fight! Down with the Turk!" and crying this, he toiled on inthe mortal strife. 

But bravery could avail little against such numbers. The Greeks weredriven back, killed, overpowered by the vast odds against them. Forced from the quarter deck into the middle of the vessel, theystood there like their forefathers at Thermopyl', and fought fortheir freedom. Not a word was uttered, not a cry from either side, but foot to foot and steel to steel the combatants waged theirdeadly warfare. Suddenly Ranadar disappeared below, and in a fewminutes returned with a beaming countenance and fresh energy. Rushing at an enormous Turk who wielded a tremendous scimetar, thecorsair attacked him. In a few moments the Turk was disarmed, butspringing at Ranadar, he held his sword arm tightly, and sought tothrow him over. Ranadar dropped his sword, and closed with the Turk. They swayed backward and forward, they fell and rose, they whirledround in endless convolutions, so that neither Turk nor Greek couldstrike a blow for his countryman. But even Ranadar seemed to gain. Holding his adversary tightly by the throat, he forced him to thevessel's side. He pushed--he strained--and then--and then--with amighty noise which seemed as though the air was rent with a dazzlingflash, and smoke, and fire, and blazing brands, and shatteredvestiges of broken ships, amid arms, and dead bodies, and a thousandhideous shapes and forms-Ranadar felt himself seized by someirresistible force and thrown with the fury of a tempest far outupon the water. For a moment he was senseless, and lay perfectlystill, clutching to the Turk. Then he looked, and a blackened corpselay in his arms. Shudderingly he released himself, and swam around. Where the corsair ship and her two foes had lain, nothing was seenbut some blackened fragments, and the whole sea far and wide seemedcovered with them. At the distance of a few hundred yards he saw thefirst Turkish ship which he had disabled, coming down toward thehorrid scene. He himself had been uninjured. The large Turk whom hehad pressed closely to him had saved his life. His clothes werepartly burnt, but that was all. With a prayer of thanks for hisdeliverance, he swam toward the Turkish ship. 

"I will try how they will treat me. Better not die wilfully, since Ihave been so wonder. Fully preserved. Great God I only! I alone outof so many!"

The men in the ship saw him. A boat was lowered and he was broughton board. For a few moments he was all unnoticed, so terrible hadbeen the calamity. Boats moved slowly over the scene, but there wereno more living beings to be found. All was one wide scene of havocand ruin. 

CHAPTER II. 

Ranadar stood in silence awaiting his fate. At last the Turkishcaptain approached him. 

"Dog of an Infidel! Who are you who are thus saved when Moslems haveperished?"

"I am a Greek. "

"I know you are, and that you are a corsair, and that you haveserved under Ranadar, the abhorred of heaven, whom Mahomet confound!But he is even now in Eblis. "

"He is not. He lives. "

"What! will you say that others are saved beside you?"

"No. "

"How then can Ranadar live?"

"I am Ranadar!"

At that well known name the Turkish captain, laid his hand furiouslyupon his scimetar. The men who had been looking at the prisoner, orendeavoring to discern some living being upon the water, all turnedas if by one impulse, to look at the dreaded corsair. He stood therewith folded arms, glancing at them as haughtily and proudly asthough he were victor, and not a captive. 

"You Ranadar!"

"I am. I did that, " said he, pointing to the blackened fragmentsupon the water. 

"What! You come here, you confess your name, and your atrociousdeed? Do you hope to live?"

"No. "

"And you shall not be disappointed. Here, come forward, " said he, tosome of his men, who were, armed with axes. "Hew the ruffian fromlimb to limb!"

"Do your worst, vile Turk! I scorn you, and laugh at death. Betterit is to die than live in captivity!"

"Ha! say you so? Then I will bring down your proud spirit, andRanadar the corsair shall be Ranadar the obedient slave! Men, bindhim. "

"Look well to your bonds, then, for strong bolts and bars havebefore this failed to hold me. "

"Bind him! Gag him! Stop the mouth of the dog!" shouted the fierceTurk, in ungovernable fury. "Take him below, away out of my sight. "

And the corsair was bound and taken below. 

The Turkish ship left this scene of destruction and proceeded on herway to Constantinople. There she landed, and over the city spreadthe news of Ranadar's captivity, for his name was well known amongthe people. As he was brought ashore, a vast multitude assembled tohave a look at the dreaded corsair. He looked around upon them, andsave a slight smile of scorn, no emotion was visible upon his marblecountenance. 

The Turkish captain, whose name was Achmet, took him as his ownslave, swearing that he would bring down his proud spirit, and tamehim as he would a wild beast-by hunger. Accordingly, Ranadar wasplaced in a dungeon, whose moist floor, and dank, slimy walls showedit to be beneath the surface of the sea-far down under the ground. 

He narrowly examined the dungeon in which he found himself confined. It was not more than ten feet square. At the side opposite from thedoor there was a small grating, through which entered some feeblerays of light. The iron stanchions were thick and strong, and beyondthe first one which he saw, there was yet another. The aperture wasabout a foot square. 

"Ha!" he exclaimed, when he first saw it. "That is what I wishedfor, Achmet will leave me here without food for three days. When hecomes, perhaps the bird will be flown. My manacles are off! Good!-Ican use my hands. "

He slowly unwound the scarf which was around his waist, anddisclosed beneath its folds doubled cords of silk, which, ifextended, might reach forty feet. He examined this, tried itsstrength carefully, and then tied it round him. He then took off hisFez cap, and from beneath the lining he pulled out some smallinstruments. There was a knife, and a saw of the finest and hardestDamascus steel. 

But little light now entered the window, for it was late in theafternoon. Ranadar went up to it and tried to pull the iron from itsplace, but in vain. Then he quickly but stealthily prepared to sawthe iron through. There were eight bars in each grating throughwhich he would have to cut. By working steadily through the greaterpart of the first night, he was able to take out the first grating, and finish half of the other. 

"Now, " said he, toward morning, "so much is done. To-morrow I willbe out. But good heaven! Holy virgin!" he exclaimed, suddenlyputting his hand to his breast. "Ah, kind heaven, thou hast not yetdeserted me. "

He took out a small bundle in which there were dates, and with aportion of these he satisfied his hunger. Night came on and foundhim with an unconquered spirit, still laboring at his work. At last, when it might have been an hour before midnight, the outer gratingwas displaced, and Ranadar passed through. 

He found himself in a narrow passage which went for a long distanceon either side. For a time he hesitated which way to choose, but atlength, he turned toward the left and went on. He walked for a longdistance, and at last came to a door, which, opening, disclosed aflight of steps. The blast of fresh air told Ranadar that here was away to escape, for it led to the outside. The air also had thefreshness of the sea, and brought with it the perfumes of distantshores, There was another flight of steps on the left at the top ofwhich was a narrow chink, through which a feeble ray of lightpassed. The fugitive paused a moment, looked up the steps beforehim, and then up the others at the light. 

"I will go here, " said he, as a sweet stream of music accompanied bya mournful female voice, came down to his ears. "I will go here, "and drawing his dagger, he went up the narrow steps, and reachingthe summit, he saw a small niche in which he might stand and lookinto the room through an aperture, apparently made for the purpose. "Ha!" he murmured, "this is some plan of Achmet. Would that I couldmeet the villain now!"

Then gazing into the chamber, through the aperture, a beautifulsight met his view. The room was magnificently furnished. Richcurtains hung from the walls. The carpets spread upon the floor werefrom the looms of Persia, the couches and stools were carved in themost skilful manner. From the vaulted ceiling a brazen lamp wassuspended, whose light cast a mysterious gleam upon the scene. Allwas in the most gorgeous and splendid style of orientalvoluptuousness. 

Upon a couch in one corner of the room reclined a young girl whoselovely countenance threw all else into the shade. Her dark hair wasloose, and her eyes were cast down droopingly, shaded by their longblack lashes. She was dressed in the elegant Grecian costume, and onher head she held a small guitar which she had just finishedplaying. Ranadar looked at the beautiful being, filled with wonderand profound astonishment at so much beauty. What was his amazementwhen he saw her raise her head and gently sigh his own name?

"Ranadar!"

He thought that she was some unearthly being when he heard it, andlooked upon her as she buried her face in her hands and wept. Asudden noise alarmed her, and she raised herself languidly upon hercouch. Footsteps were heard outside, and after a time Ranadar sawthe door open and his hated foe Achmet, walk in. 

"Allah save you, beautiful Grecian maiden! Who is there who inbeauty can equal Iona? I hope you are more tender than you wereyesterday?"

"Leave me to myself, " she cried, waving her hand. 

"O no, no, --do not send me away, do not deprive me of the light ofyour heavenly smile. You torture me. Why do you treat me so Maiden, you are my slave. "

"By purchase-but I yield not to you. "

"Hearken to me. You have defied me too long. You are in my powerentirely. If you will not love me willingly, I would scorn to compelyou. I have come this time expecting you to be more kind. I find youunaltered, I do not love you well enough to wait for you to change. You must die!"

Ranadar shuddered with ill-suppressed rage, but the lovely Ionagazed at Achmet unshrinkingly. 

"I know you love another. I know your affection for that pestilentGrecian. I have watched you, seen your actions, and heard you sighhis name. He too shall die!"

"He will never be in your power. "

"Will he not? He lies now in my lowest dungeon. There he shallstarve!"

Iona who had thus far been firm, when she heard that, fell back uponthe couch, but ashamed of her weakness, raised herself, and againconfronted her enemy. But her face was deathly pale, and her handswere clasped tightly together. 

"In one hour, Grecian maid-in one hour, "--and his voice sank to adeep, hard whisper--"you shall die, and nevermore shall your fatherbehold you-nevermore shall Ranadar gaze upon you unless it be inEblis. " And Achmet departed. 

"Alas, he never has gazed upon me. Ranadar never has seen me, but Ihave seen him-ah, too often. "

Ranadar was filled with a variety of contending emotions. Butpassionate love and pity for the beautiful Iona were pre-eminentamong them. He looked in silence after Achmet had gone, but suddenlyremembered that no time could be lost in waiting there. 

"Surely, " he said to himself, "there must be something else herebeside this aperture, there must be some small door by which onemight enter. He searched narrowly around, and at length saw a smallpanel which seemed fastened by a concealed bolt. This he pushedback, the door opened, and Ranadar stood before Iona. At the noiseof his entrance, she started, and looking up, muttered a few wordsin a daring tone, as though she supposed the slaves had come to puther to death, but seeing Ranadar the great corsair, the man whom sheloved beyond all words, she uttered a faint scream of joy and raisedher arms and face to heaven. He caught her in his arms. 

"Fly with me, Iona. I know all. Come with your Ranadar. Ah, comequickly. Hark, there are sounds without. Hasten!"

She seemed incapable of motion. So great were the conflictingemotions which disturbed her soul, that she neither spoke nor moved. 

"Iona, my own love, my soul!" he cried imploringly, and as sheleaned gently upon him, he raised her in his strong arms, andpassing back through the secret door, he bore her down the stairs. Then up he went with his lovely, trembling burden, up the stairs atwhich half an hour before he had paused, and a thrill of rapturewent through him, as on reaching the top he found himself upon a lowterrace which overlooked the sea. Iona's arms were clasped about hisneck. The lovely girl, overcome by her sudden escape from death, from sorrow and misery--overcome at the sight of Ranadar, free, andmaking her free, felt a deep gush of joy and bliss, too great forutterance. Her tears of happiness flowed freely, and while she clungto him she sighed his name, --"Ranadar!"

"Cling to me closer, closer, Iona! There is the water beneath us. Wemust escape. See, yonder there is a boat. I must carry you there. "

About a hundred yards away, upon the moonlit surface of the water, asmall boat could be seen lying at anchor. None seemed to be onboard. There Ranadar determined to swim. The water was dashingagainst the stone wall ten feet beneath. He unwound his scarf andfastening it firmly to an iron bar, he took Iona in his manly arm, and then descended. The cold water received the lovers and enfoldedthem. Iona clinging to Ranadar as he directed her feared nothing, for her lover was with her. He struck out boldly and swam slowly tothe boat. Gradually he approached, and at last his hands grasped it. Raising himself stealthily, he looked into it, and found it empty. Then he placed Iona within, and crawling in after her, a few momentssufficed for him to hoist the sails. A fair wind blew from theharbor. The light boat felt its influence and started at the blast, and bounded over the waves carrying them home to Scio. 

CHAPTER III. 

Once more the waters of the ’gean Sea and the blue waves of theGrecian Archipelago shone beneath the morning sun. A small ship wasseen stealing along the coast of the Isle of ’gina. It was gailypainted, but guns peeped through her sides, and a long one wasmounted amid-ships. Aloft, a red flag streamed, and the sails, whichwere distended by the breeze, glistened from afar upon the bluewater. She was slowly and noiselessly sailing toward a promontory, upon whose summit a strange flag was flying, apparently a signal ofsome kind. 

Upon the other side of the promontory, and sailing directly towardit was a Turkish vessel. By the listlessness of all on board, it wasevident that they were ignorant that an enemy was so near. Thecaptain leaned over the stern and gazed into the water. An aged manin the dress of a slave, but whose intellectual countenance beliedhis costume, was cleaning a sword. 

"Monilon!" cried the captain, sternly, "Why are you so long. MayAllah eternally confound you, indolent heathen of a Greek!"

"Achmet, you are my master. I am old. Do not beat me. I have not thestrength of youth. "

"Insolent greybeard! Be more respectful. Since your daughter'sescape, you have grown suddenly bold. Beware!"

"I rejoice that Iona is out of a ruffian's power. "

"Dog! What! Ha!" he cried, in amaze, as turning to fell the old manto the deck, he saw the Grecian vessel rounding the promontory. "Ho, men! up! To arms! A corsair!"

Instantly, every man sprung to seize his arms. The guns were madeready, and all was prepared for action. 

"Monilon, go below. We will blow up these knaves in your absence. You will have company soon from the slaves in yon ship. "

A wild shout from the corsair interrupted him. Suddenly theapproaching vessel paused, and some movement was made upon herdecks. 

"By great Allah, they are afraid. Ha! They are moving that long gun. They are pointing it. " A loud noise followed his remark, and a hugeball struck the ship sending the splinters around in everydirection. Then the corsair bore down upon them. Yet not more thansix men appeared upon her deck. When close by she poured a broadsideinto the Turkish ship, wounding and killing great numbers. The Turkssent back another, and shot off some of the rigging. But now theships were close together. A trumpet was blown by a noble andsplendidly apparelled youth who seemed to be leader. Instantly acrowd of men poured out from the hold. They came thronging the deck, and rushed after their leader into the Turkish vessel. 

"Ranadar!" shouted Achmet. 

"Ha, Achmet!" and Ranadar rushed upon the Turk. Their scimetarscrossed and flashed fire. Three times the steel of Ranadar startedthe blood of Achmet. Twice he forced him upon his knee. At last theTurk struck furiously at the corsair. But the next moment his swordwas whirled from his hand, and the Moslem chief fell gasping at thefeet of Ranadar. 

"Victory, victory! Down with the Turks, " shouted the fierce corsair, as they rushed more furiously than ever upon their foes. "Victory!"and the shout which added force to the Greeks, took away the courageof the Turks. For a while the carnage raged, the Greeks cut downtheir enemies who still fought with the wild energy of despair. Manyleaped into the sea. Others leaned against their dead comrades, andthough wounded, still kept up resistance. 

"Yield! yield! You are conquered!" cried Ranadar! "Yield, and Iwill be merciful!"

At this there was a pause. They threw down their swords, andacknowledged themselves prisoners. 

But as Ranadar turned to look upon the dead body of Achmet, and todirect his men about the ship, he saw an aged man leaning againstthe side of the ship. For a moment he looked, and then springingforward, he caught the old man in his arms. 

"Monilon, alive! Are you yet alive, then? Iona has mourned youlong. "

"Ranadar, Heaven bless you forever. Did you save my daughter?"

"I escaped, and she fled with me. "

"Ranadar, your name is terrible to your foes, but O, how sweet, howdear, to your friends. God bless you, is an old man's prayer. "

The Turkish vessel was plundered, and after dividing, enough wasfound to fill the corsairs with joy. The Turkish prisoners werecarried to Scio, and after a long time were exchanged for Greekcaptives. The name of Ranadar gained new glory, and his deeds werespoken of everywhere. 

One tenth of the spoil was Ranadar's, but this he forced uponMonilon, in order to enable him again to rebuild his ruined home inKomao. Monilon took it, for well he knew that Ranadar would have itagain-well he knew it, by the happy smile and lovely blushes ofIona. 

Komao rises from the sea not more than thirty miles to the north ofScio. It is a lovely spot, where trees of luxuriant foliage andrichest fruit grow on every side. Here the vineyards are seen, wherevines hang in graceful festoons from tree to tree; orchards filledwith a thousand fruits, gardens where blooming and odorous flowersgive forth their fragrance to the air--running streams and gushingfountains. In this paradise dwelt Monilon; here Iona was brought up, and here Ranadar came to take her to his home. But that home was onthe same lovely island, and there they lived in happiness such asearth can seldom bestow, for if the tenderest love and the mostbeautiful scenes of nature can afford happiness, then Iona andRanadar had nothing more to desire. The corsair seldom after sailedthe sea. He was contented to dwell at home, and ever blessed the daywhen he was led captive to Achmet's dungeon. 

THE END.