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Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent dtre filmds A des taux de reduction diffdrents. Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre reproduit en un seul clich6, il est filmd d partir de I'angie supdrieur gauche, de gauche d droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images ndcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mdthode. 1 2 3 4 5 6 M C( THE COINERS OF POMPEII: A ROMANCE. BY RICHARD RYLAND. Since now the hour is come at last, When you must quit your anxiou lover ; Since now our dream of blisa is past, One pang, my girl, aad all is over. TORONTO : PUBLISHED FOR THE AUTHOR, BY H. AND W. ROWSELL. 1845. I I! ■OWaaLM AND THOMPSON, PHINTKM. TO THE READER. A " Novel or a Romance," we will all at once admit, is written not> so much for instruction, or for the giving of a moral lesson to the reader, as for the amusement of his or her mind in their leisure moments, and when they have nothing else to engage their attention : hence we conclude, that as every one, when in search of amusement, generally seeks for that which affords him the greatest pleasure — the best of the two, whether a novel or a romance, is the one that would be required. The novel merely tells of events which have happened or do happen around us every day : but the - — V r romance tells of matters and things far more exciting; it speaks of the marvellous — of IV TO THE READER. .1 S:;:::,::^*^'-'' -sequent; to us, would"! eSyr*" ''""^^ r" "^'^ pleasure in ,1 i ^ ^'"^ "* ""e most weTve It I "r '""'"^"''' "^-'•-t worse stvIP th. ^ ''^/"tten in a much vise scyie than a novel • w^n i '-hich we ICn ?"'"'"'' "" * ^"'^^ ., ^^ ^'^e , concerned in Ut^t^ « 4.^' work, as perhaps more becomine- us an^ h..=* c . '^^P'^nat'on of our story, or~ at least of what it consists, would be to Su .K -St interesting and e'ssential pa o "it he very part i„ faet that we would pr"^ Wng for the perusal of our readers. 'bI b faSt '" "^"^ "'■"^ *«' -"ay seem o De taults, or passages that may appear to h» "•"■-'•"'. «-t you ,„ u, eood.™, TO THe READER. ich do not isequently e and new the most of which you will 1 a much erhaps it for thus n a work » setting faults of • us, and of those readers 1 other h or^at iell the of it- prefer . But eem to to be id, let ^dernn " Alois Farnese " for these errors, and not we, who are merely the compilers of the work. He alone is surely accountable for errors in his own manuscript ; certainly then not we, who only copy them. And now, reader, one word more : we have certainly struggled hard to bring before your notice a book worthy of your good opinion; but if your mind is at any time inclined ratlier to read your Bible, read it by all means; then if at another time you may not happen to be so well inclined, take up these pages, and favour us by the perusal of them; at the same time passing over the faults, and if possible allowing a due merit to any good or pleasure that you may find in them : this we ask, not for ourselves, but out of kindness towards our old friend, " Alois Farnese." A 2 Ill CHAPTER I. The secret coiner is a thief, And yet he basely seeks reprieve. When on the gallows he's to hang. Or when the bell of death has rung, To summon him away. It was late in th< The evening^, ihe scene was in Italy, above the site of Pompeii, an ancient city of Campania, which, together with Hercuianeum, was buried hi ashes from Mount Vesuvius, a. d. 79, and first dis- covered in 1748. It lies about twelve miles south-east from Naples; and is said to have been founded by the Opici ; and at a later period to have been in the possession of the Samnites, who, havin^r revolted, were re- placed by Roman colonists. Campania, or Terra di Lavoro, is at the present time the most beautiful and fruitful part of Italy" f J'! 8 above, and then- beneath them lul'Te eve. a way-worn, leg-weary traveller. He seemed to be much exhausted from hh journey, fo, h,, ,,,p, ^^^^ totterW and uncertoin, and yet retaining enough of that showed that h.s years were but fewf His garbwasplainandcoarse; and yet, though U certain y did seem to have been kung^n wuh a pitchfork, it was so arranged, that IZZ'^r'''' '"'^™ "etween'its'f d poruon. He wore a slouching wide-leafed straw hat, which totally ah.n„jA ,.: ' ** 9 nance; and his dress was a dark green woollen frock, which reached down to his knees, and which was squeezed in around his waist by a narrow belt of gold : it was open at the collar, and disclosed to view a skin of almost feminine softness. Around his neck he wore a rose-coloured silk kerchief, with a single tie, and on his legs woollen trousers of a deep black hue. This then, with a form, which, though slight, was, as we have just said, of exquisite proportions, completed the whole outer man. At times, he would stop in his onward course, and pause awhile ; then his eyes would close, as if he longed to be at rest ; and his knees would totter still more, as if they refused to support his much exhausted frame. At length, when he had stopped in this way for about the hundredth time, he seated himself on a decaying poplar log, which lay at the side of the path on which he had been travelling ; and drawing forth some bread, grapes, and a bottle of wine from a budget which he had carried on the end of a stick over his shoulder, he pre- pared himself to eat ; but while he was thus 10 engaged, he thought that h. r u i give way beneathL ^ *" ""« ^^^^ ftet at L bare u ■~''; '""'''^ *» ^i, no/" cried hp/f' '""^ looked-" But be-iel t ha rbTeV'*"'^'^ -"■''- %. which made «e f „r "T^^'' 5 *''« witb that, he sat down :;v::dr'""^^ «at,- but in a little time afl t^ T *** several feet aro.mJ u- . ' '''^ e^'""'' «>' finally feiir;s''a';r''H'r""^'^"'' for some time, as the l^ri, ?' ""^ '""''^'«« but when he JJtSstlfh'"""^' '"■'"'• hi* astonishment, when Te ti ^f '^^ had been Ivino- Z 1 *^P*'''«"'e<^ that he «de of a mS oT fthf '^"^"' "^ '"^ ehe MHe marl^et^l^tm^r^^^^ '' Pompei, } and is this Pomneii ?\ , . i'mself. as he started to his fee L5 .""Jl around on the <.nl„„j-j , ^®'' *"«* looked deserted buildir ,"'; •"" ^"'^^y and selves on ev yS "He'rrf *"«- forhishat,but7tw:sg!:e ."r^'^^'""" cried he in n i; 1 ^ ^^ matter;" u ne, in a lively tone of voice « T 'ii / f-^ hunt up some one ^H. 1 } ^^ ''y information resoecfclno. \i.' """ ^'""^ "^ respecting this strange place : " II 80 saying, he walked; away; but yet, how different was his appearance from what it had been a few moments before, when pursuinff his weary way along the modem surface of the earth. He had lost his hat; but how much was he improved by the loss of it ! for now, he revealed a countenance of ' ? most tender and delicate beauty. His hair was raven black; forehead high and open ; eye- brows arched, nose straight, and mouth com- pressed, yet very slightly so, as if to point out the determined character of the slightly- built, but still strongly-minded man. He wore whiskers, which met beneath his chin • and now as the air around Pompeii felt cold and chill, he drew his garments closer around him, and thus gave to himself an appearance of greater smartness and activity than he had appeared to have before. On, on, he wended his way through the gloomy and silent streets, but not a soul could he see to give him the desired information, or to cheer his lonely way. Meanwhile the awful e-loom and Inn.. hness of every thing around him, made his spinte gradually more and more depressed: 12 even the sound of his own footsteps, which echoed with a hollow noise along tL pave- ment startled and affri^^hted hi„,. ^^^n which formed the street throuf^h which he was pa«s,ng caused his mind to be so dread- ^ny unsettled, that he frequently started at leZV n ""^ ^^"^ J°'"' '" ^- body trembled wuh fear. And now a bat whirls around the decayed and mouldering build- ings, and causes his very heart to leap within Inm at the appalling and ghostly sound. I„ this way hours rolled by, and still he con- tnmes h,s solitary way, up one street and down another, with the same unwearied exer- tion, yet never seeming to arrive at the end of his journey or to stop for a single moment. X-he perspiration flowed down in large, heavy drops from his forehead, and his hands were clenched as if with determination to stick to bis purpose, and also from desperation at the apparent sight of dangers which surrounded him on every side. The state of his mind was fearful, and roused to aa^ony aHn to madness : not that calm, quiet madness which 13 is lulled almost at will (that even would be a comparative relief to his present sufferings), —no, but that passionate, never-dying, fright- ful malady which brings foam to the mouth, and the very blood from the pores of the skm,— that was his suffering, that was his agony, yet he never flinched from his pur- pose, nor for an instant looked behind him. His eyes, on the contrary, were rivetted on the gloom beyond him, whilst his ears were strained as if to catch the passing sounds. Now he turns down a narrow and still more gloomy street than any heretofore : the pave- ment is broken and torn up in many places, over which he often stumbles, and recovers himself again with difficulty. The tall, high houses, too, on either side of him seem as If they would every instant tumble into the street and crush him beneath the ruins. At this moment a shrill piercing shriek broke upon the air, and disturbed the awful silence around him, as it rang out and echoed with a death-like mournful sound in the crum- bimg and darksome buildings. He instently stopped short, and bent 1 B head to listen. as ;i ! 'I 14 he exclaimed hurriedly, « I thought I heard waTdr , ^"/"f "'^'"'^'""'^'"-'^ft- I knew I d.d.» So saying he walked ove^ those of all the other buildings around. Re- ceiving no opposition he walked in. He took a hasty survey of each of the apartments, on his right and on his left hand. Every thing therein, the tables, chairs, vases, chan- deliers, and carpets, seemed, with the excep- tion of plenty of dust, to bb as perfect as they ever were. Perceiving at one glance that there were no persons in either of these apartments, he walked on. and ascending a narrow flight of stairs at the end of the hall. he soon arrived at a door, a strongly framed door, from the outside of which, and from the phice where he stood, he instantly hoard a low. soft, musical, but plaintive female voice, speaking i„ tones of entreaty and dis- tress: while now and then she was interrupted by harsh, grating, dogged tones, :.s of a...,l„ old man who refused to grant her request 15 "Coward," cried the girl in sterner and louder tones, "you banter and bully me thus, because you know that there are none now at hand who could assist me— but were— ay, were my younger brother before you now. you would quail before us both, though brave and strong you call yourself." "What I" said the harsh voice, "before that prating boy? -by heavens! he had better not cro«, my path-or if he does, I'll plant him face to face w.th death." "Your heart is black and foul enough to do the deed, I know, "re- phed the girl,-" but your cowardly spirit is not equa to the task. Ay! I see that your eyes flash at my taunting words-do your worsts is all I say in reply, since death itself « less dreadful than your horrible embrace." The old man then with one stride approached her, while she screamed with horror again. AI0.S Fames?, the young stranger outside the door, could endure no more, nor could he bear to hear tones of agony and distress without at once flying to relieve them. So, wuh this intent, he instantly burst open the door, and confronted the occupants of the I ;'i room. The one was a hideous, middle aged gristly red Im.r, a pug nose, and grey squint- ing eyes. The other was a beautiful girl of scarce eighteen years of age,- with a form and countenance o the most exquisite loveliness and beauty. Indeed her whole person was so perfect, that were we to attempt to des- cribe her other charms, we should attempt an "npo*s.b,hty. Were we to speak of her dark auburn tresses, her dark brown eyes and long silken lashes, that roseate tinge upon her cheeks too, which far surpassed the bloom on the peachj or the exquisite proportions of than !f"\ ';'".''' "'" ''^"" ^' ™«gin«d than described, it woui.l be of no use, as not even then could we do her justice. The apartment in which they were, was a very low-ceilmg'd room with only one small win- dow near one corner, and that even was strongly grated from top to bottom. There was no furniture, save two chairs, a table and on it a bundle of dirty papers, with an ebony mkstand and some broken quill.^ cignora Conosa, daughter of Prince Canosa of iddle aged "'liit, with ey squint- ifu! girl of I form and loveliness erson was t to des- ttempt an t of her eyes and ige upon he bloom )rtions of imagined '6, as not e. The s a very lall win- ^en was There a table, with an Qui lis. anosa of 17 Naples, was kneeling on the middle of the floor, whilst the fierce looking man, Peter Guesclin, a native of Spain, was again apply- ing a thumb-screw to her delicate hands, still not apparently with the intention of giving her actual pain, but to frighten her into an acquiescence with his desires. It appeared that this man, Peter Guesclin, was the valet- de-chambre of the prince, but by deep-laid schemes and great cunning, had contrived to get his master in some way connected with a band of secret coiners, who at this time lived a few streets oflFfrom this house. As soon as the coiners had brought over the father, the tather almost immediately induced his two sons and his daughter, the lovely Emily, to join them also. Now Peter was well aware from the first, that if he could succeed in leading ofl^ the father, he might be sure of the daughter, as,— so great was their affec- tion for each other,— neither fath er nor children could exist when separated from each other. iiut his chief designs affainst pi»),e- th- or the other, were occasioned by an evil and base passion which he had long entertained i. ;l( I 1! if 18 towards the daughter, but which until no^ he durst not reveal. As at last, however, she was put ahnost entirely i„ hi, power, he dai- ly pursued and annoyed her; and went so tar on this occasion, as to con.iuct her off from her friends, and in this room even en- deavoured to use violence towards her. " Oh » save n,e, save me, for the l„.e of heaven!" cned Emdy to Alo's, as he entered the roomj save'me from this villain, who would murl der me m cold blood. " Alois, looking from L' r. f."*"'' '"^ ""'" "-^ matter at once; and beheld with a mixture of awe and indig- nation the distress of that lovely being who still knelt before the fierce and savage looking i-eter Then turning towards the man, he ft«d his eyes upon him, and scowled till his black eyebrows met. Then slowly extri- cating a dagger from his belt, while he kept his eyes still bent upon him, he cried out in ahurned voice, "Vile caitiff, defend yourself '" «id rushed upon him. At the first onset, Peter was somewhat disconcerted, as he did not expect to see so oli^Kt- .„j jp . %---•' ""gilt ana uelicace a nre showing so much courage, but instantly 19 perceiving that he had been deceived, he threw out all his energies for one fierce en- counter. In the mean time Emily stood by, looking on with clasped hands, and a counten- ance setting forth her great alarm ; occasion- ally uttering a faint scream too, when she perceived the blood spouting from the arms or chest of either one or the other. Alois .had already made several false lunges, and had the sivord of his antagonist pass twice between his arm and his body, but as yet remained unhurt. At last, however, his foot slipped in a little stream of blood which trickled down on the floor from a slight wound in Peter^s arm, and in falling, the sword of his antagonist pierced his side up to the very hilt; but at the same time, his own sword, which he held firmly upwards, entered the side of Peter, who instantly fell heavily upon him, deluged with blood and quite insensible. The shock of his own fall, together with the weight of the body falling upon him also, deprived Alois of his senses f^- * * * In a few hours after, when Alois came to himself, he 20 found himself lying on a comfortable bed in a large flagged room. The curtains had been drawn closely around the bed, so as to exc ude the chilling air, but he put forth his hand and drew them gently aside, and look- ing forth he gazed more attentively at the 8trange place in which he was. The door of the apartment was formed of heavy oak, and was placed at one corner of the room ; a deal table, stood close to the wall at the left hand to r n '"*"""''' »"d her noble giif^ ^ Immediately after the conversation held ^tween fether and daughte. as mentioned Zltl 'r? °"'^.'=''"P*«'' ^'"J* feigned to be «leep, lest he should be suspected of having overheard a conversation which was evident"? not intended for his ears. Then he hTa d .Jefathernse hastily from his seat, and Ze h.s bed, drew as.de the curtam, and gaze^? "pon his apparently placid and slumberi„ as you drank would make you si as the fond g,rl bent over him, and kissed his would";;!!.'". ' ^""r" """""■■"» •''-- -'"-eh would not have awaked the lightest sleeper. Ah ! s,ghed Alois imperceptibly, she is Eke valley hcks up the dew on the fernf and gambols n the morning sun, which tin"^ her cheeks with his rosy hue, and ZIZ beh.n h.. radiance in her eyes. HerWk on we:! r '""•-*"" ''"^'" *» '-'' on, were they not screened, with meltinir oftness, by her long silken lashes, whth Its f \ "^ """"'" "°'''^' thought Emily now turned from the bed. and closing the curtain with her tiny Cs 24 she siglied deeply, whilst she muttered half aloud, " 'Tis well — he sleeps — oh! that he may yet do well." She sat down on one of the chairs beside the table, and again spoke aloud : " When first I saw him enter that room in Agnano street," said she, " I thought I never saw so beautiful a form. I loved from first sight, but oh ! how was that love increased, when to save my life he risked hii own. I could take the wings of the eagle, soar into the clouds above, and there flutter to all eternity, or until the lightning struck me, and sent me withered to the ground. Nay, I could do more for his sake, much more. I could drown in the ocean — I could plunge into its fathomless depths. I could die to gain his love." At the conclusion of these words, she raised her hands and eyes towards heaven; and the glistening tears rolled down her lovely cheeks. " But what if he should never recover," sobbed she con- vulsively ; "what if he should die in that bed ; what if I should then see him taken from it, laid in a dull, black coffin, and carried to the cold grave. Oh, horrible ! horrible !" she he muttered sleeps — oh ! » sat down on le, and again w him enter said she, " I 111 a form. I liow was that life he risked of the eagle, there flutter itninor struck the ground. I sake, much ;ean — I could ths. I could conclusion of nds and eyes stening tears « But what abed she con- e in that bed ; taken from it, carried to the )rrible !" she 25 almost shrieked, as she placed both of her hands upon the table, backs downwards, laid her face upon them, and sobbed again, as if her heart would break. By degrees how- ever she recovered again, and then left the room slowly and with lingering steps. Mean- while Alois had sunk into a doze, in which he continued until awakened several hours after by a young, but fierce and savage- looking man, whose name was Agustine Parthenope. His age could not have been more than five-and-twenty, and yet he had an appearance of great ferocity, and a look of wariness, cunning and duplicity about him. which ever rendered him an object of suspi- , con, even amongst his associates. As soon IZ I Trt *'^ ''""" ''^ «' -ee ap- proached the bed, and roughly drawing aside the curtains, he placed a small mahogany table near it with refreshments laid thereon! Alois immediately awoke, and stared around |him with some alarm and a ^re,t -i»oi „f jwoncer. Agustine seeing thisrsmiledwd 'Pon the table, he added, « I should have II '! I! 26 brought some wine, but the prince said that m your present state it might not be good for you." « Thank you. What is your name ?" " Agustine," suggested he, gruffly. « Thank you, Agustine, I should not have tasted any if you had brought it." « Bah I " growled Agustine, shrugging his shoulders, and then he muttered something about « Sour grapes, said tl^e fox, when he could n*t get at them;" but as Alois did not hear him, he heeded him not At length, however, when he had nearly finished his meal, he looked up from the little table, and, addressing his attendant with a look of some anxiety, he asked, " VVell, Agustine, my dear fellow, what has become of the man with whom I fought a while ago ?" Umph ! how fond you are of me all at once, thought Agustine, but he merely said, with a very faint smile, « Aha ! Peter Guesclin, you mean ?" « Yes, to be sure, if that's his name." « It was his father's name, and so likely to be his," replied Agustine J then adding, with a malicious grin, as he took away the table with the din- ner utensils, « but though his wound was far 27 worse than yours, he is likely to recover, and, as he says, to be the death of yon, or to mete out to you a double portion of revenge." And where is the poor fellow now ?" asked Alois with tones of great kindness, for he never felt any enmity towards the man, far- ther tan that he had tried to injure one whom he had already begun to love. « Poor fellow, eh 1 why he lies on a bed i„ the coining room back there," replied Agustine. jerking his thumb over his shouldef ; then suddenly taking up the little table, he walked «P„!;/;' '?"' '°°"«""& as he went. Poor fellow, indeed ! reserve your pity for yoursetf-for I tell you what it is. m/fine chap Peter (poor fellow, as you call him), rln! J '"^'^'' P°'««»dgore you. befoij a month is over— mark my words." rJa T •■""■■ """' "^^"'''"^ ''«'J J«ft the room, Emily entered it, and taking a chair. sa down by the bed side. At Jt she S not perceive that Alois was awake, but when she »7 I .u • \ '"^- " ^'>°''" said she at length, in her own low, soft voice, « I hope that everythin.^ musical around you !1^ !i 28 is as you wish, and that— and that," added she, hesitating, " you are happy." « Happy i" exclaimed Alois, raising himself with a des- perate effort on one elbow, "but too happy," added he, shaking his head slowly, and smihng with a languishing air, « but too happy whilst with you." Emily blushed, smiled and bowed, but still said nothing, save m her looks, which spoke louder than words could 'utter. Alois was excited by the fasci- nation of her manner, so he continued, « Sig- nora Emily, believe me when I say, thit 1 never knew what love was, till I saw you- I never understood what charms were till I saw yours; no, nor did I ever know what beauty was, till I knew you. Nay, do not blush, nor become so embarrassed, dear one —pardon the expression, for I knew not what 1 said— nor suffer yourself to be in the least put out, since here there is no one to be a witness of it. Let us rather be confidants in each other's affection, if I might flatter myself so far as to think that I am indeed beloved." "Yon 111, — i^Txxvc lie CUTI~ mLI'/f'^'°'^^''°"'''^°''»-«'«eh- ment, the best and surest means of injuring 40 Ijim. would be first to injure the object of that attachment, and so his destruction would ultimate y follow; because, as Alois was love nself when deprived of that love, his soul would smk within him. Now Peter had heard from Agustine Parthenope, who had daily watched the proceedings of Alois, that he (Alois) loved Emily, and that she wa, continually by his bed side, administering to h« wdnfa, and cherishing him with her love and kindness. This information, conveyed M such a way and in as sneering a manner as Agus ine would convey it in, was enough to Wise the very hell and latent fire within him. He cursed, he swore, and raved like a mad- man when he heard it. He gnashed hi, teeth, and rolled upon his bed with very anguish, at the bare thought; but when he recovered sufficiently to be able to walk about the room, his frantic maimer changed at once; his violent feelings subsided, and settled into that steady, quiet calm, which is (like the glassy surface of the ocean) but the forerunner of a frip-litft.l .f„,™ u. ^ ,. , about the room with his hands clasped 2 object of iJtion would is was love '9 his soul Peter had 9 who had Alois, that fc she was istering to her love conveyed nanner as nough to thin him. e a mad- shed his ith very ivhen he to walk changed led, and vhich is but the walked clasped 41 behind his back, and a smile on his features, which but ill-concealed the fire within. One evening, when he was quite recovered, and when Emily was about to go for change of air and scene to Giovanni di Placcida^s house for a few days, Agustine made his appearance in the flagged room, where Alois always slept, and where Emily was as usual. « Sig- nora Emily," said he with a smile, « our chief requested me to call to you, and say that he wished me to conduct you to his house this evening, as at this hour there are apt to be Jittle knote of banditti patrolling the streets in disguise." "Very well," said Emily, looking up and smiling through her tears {for she had just bid Alois a tender farewell), « I shall be ready directly." Agustine then took a chair, and sat down for a few moments, while she finished packing a few of her things m a little brass-nailed trunk. Alois sat in one or the windows, apparently reading, but every now and then directing his eyes with passionate fondness towards Emily, as she, with trembling and agitated fingers, packed and unpacked the same things. " Ah ! cruel J> 2 42 affectionately tLtrj. *"' '''' ''""' have indeed stiwir ""^ '"*"' "y*" taking her ii e ". I ""'' ■"'"'''^'"'y' «"<». •-stant./fCl^rd^tt^S"""."''""^''' dreaded Peter anH a • """'''"& that the eogetl^er-tLai tr '^"^ '" '^'«- -noee'nt being Set: IT " ^""^ »■"" -uci confidefee il th;;; '""' P"* ''"' ^ him only a few 2 / "'^''^ "^ "'«'<''« =;2t^air-?;r' .1. ^.r*.'" *'■« direction from »!,«„„. issued, he perceived, to his approached his hand >wn, "you heart and ently, and, wider, left >re adieu, that the in league Pntle and it but too indow as eality in > but in ion that 8 before ' he was uddenly sounded rushing ste, he g with to Lis 43 utter dismay and agony, that Peter Guesclin had just joined Agustine, and that they were both proceeding rapidly up the street, in the direction of the Piazza di Ponte, with Emily Canosa between them. He then waited to see no more, but putting his head in at the hall door, he called loudly for assistance. S« men instantly rushed out, who seeing the cause of his alarm, readily followed him in parsuu of the fugitives. On they went, swift as the wind itself, and without turning either to the right or to the left: keeping the one object in view, too, as if their very lives depended on their reaching it. But still the fugitives seemed to get fast before them; scarcely touching the ground from the rapi^ dity of their motion. Every now and then Peter would look back, and shaking his fist, trf v". u""*'^' *"' ^'°'* ^«='' tine. 44 but Peter would then invariably say some. and laugh : he could have struck them irTthe agony of the moment. Alois then looked at the people who passed them in the street, or rather at those by whom he and his com- panions passed, and beheld a faint smile on their faces too. It is evident, thought he, hat they are deceived with regard to us, and take u? for banditti-the thought was mad- denmg, and his blood boiled like fire; so he rushed on again with such fury and impe- tuosity that he soon outstripped his compa- nion^ and gained proportionably fast upon the fugitives. At length, however, he lost sight of them, for they turned down a low archway, or street across which the houses were built; but still he followed, until he reached this, down which he went also, and only just in time to catch a glimpse of Peter. Emily, and Agustine, as they entered a narrow doorway at the further end of It Towards this he made, heedless of the many wretched, starving human Ko;„„„ *i... came in his way, or of the howling curs ?ay some-* way again em in the looked at street, or his com- smile on ught he, us, and k^as mad- e ; so he d impe- 1 compa- ist upon he lost i a low houses 9 until nt also, glimpse s they er end I of the ^ curs 45 which sometimes nearly ran between his legs, and overthrew him on the uneven pavement. The street was a perfect scene of horror, from which, at another time, he would have shrunk with feelings of affright and alarm ; a scene, from which, on another occasion, his very soul would have recoiled— but now, now how different: the wretched objects which every moment presented themselves to his view failed to excite his compassion ; the piercing screams of agony too came un- heeded to his ears, for his eyes, ay, and his very senses were rivetted on that dark and narrow door far on at the end of the lane. His strides now became prodigious he kicked aside the howling curs with fury he stretched out both his hands, as if with an endeavour to silence those horrid screams, which now and then, in spite of all, would seem to split his very brain in sunder. Ha ! now he starts aside with a look of agony, for there — down that dark and narrow stair, and through that dirtv-lookinsr donrw»v. is n»rr>o/1 forth a half mutilated and haK naked form. Alois starts so at the horrible sight, that his 46 ^ hlood runs cold in hia eannot help Z^ „ "' •' 5^"' «"■» ^e bearers, seeiSlh''"" ''l ""'' °°« "^ "»e tie body, and with thetZ; f' '^"'^ »' «'-dy «„eh bewildLTd ;a.ttr a/" "^ countenance so mashpH „ f '""' * f-th are entlre,;£ tr' tr'nof' t 'n two, and the eyes taken f! ' " " *'" « Oh, horrible, hS^"etrr ""'^'^ '"i' burning b of wfth hi' '"' '''»'''« but again the beLers fthelt"'^' ''^'•• the demons, smiled u„a„i ?-^' *"■ '^"•«' - bis agoLy alt" relt:"^" '"^^ out as they did so; « we d^L ?[* ' "'^'"^ «ben carved him -Tnd Te .f ^"''- '^enge;" sosavino- »i ""'i^" had our re- — .Lr^gtrnT'ff^^""^ AInic ...... . ^ ^"^' and echoed ao-«m "e^ no more. He rushed 47 onward with headlong speed, as he put hf, Ongers ,n h,s ears, and closed his eyelids against such horrible scenes. At last, how- ever, he reached the door at the end of the lane, and then hastily entered it, without for a moment seeming to consider whether there might be any one to oppose his entrance or not. But as chance would have it, there was no one either to invite or to hinder him from going in ; so in he rushed with a drawn dagger in his hand. He then pursued hi^ course through a long, dark, earthly-smelling descended sharp round to the left. Down these stairs he also descended, and at th^ ou to? 1^:1 ""^«'' «' ^ ««^^«'' kitchen out of which he could find no way of de- dark ZZl t . ^ P'""* *^ "> Pitoh W I„H u"^ *" ^'°P« ^'^ -«y before actually seemed to glue down his very eye- , : There was a small glimmering «nLk vain, to fan into a flame ; so he turned from 48 it with a feeling very near despair, and resumed his search once more. At length his hand rested on the handle of a door, which, on opening, he found to lead up a narrow stairs that turned slightly to the right, as in a spiral form. Up this stairs he instantly rushed, knitting his brows fiercely as ever, and grasping his dagger so tightly, and so resolutely, that his fingers even pained him. The stairs, he found, did not, as he at first imagined, ascend in a spiral form, but merely turning slightly to the right, a little above the door, it went straight up, as was easily seen by the light that issued through several iron-barred windows, which were placed at intervals up the stairs. The steps were of stone, and felt mildewy and damp to Alois, for he occasionally slipped, as he, in his haste, took two or three at a time. Sometimes he would stop for an instant to listen, if there was any sound by which he could be guided in his onward pursuit ; but no, no sound as yet reached his longing ear. This is dismal, this is dreadful I thought he, as, after one of these stoppages, he again ascended the dark 49 stone 8tairs. At length, I.owever, l.e came to a ^art, where there were no windows, and 80, of course, no light; but he would have pressed forward still, had he not been sud- denly arrested by the sound of a low feeble vo.ce, which seemed to speak in tones of love and fondness, rather than those of supplication and entreaty. " Oh ! Alois, Alois I dearest Alois I are we never to meet again ?" said s .1 beauffu Italian tongue, which ever V brates on the chords of the very soul. n.zed to be that of his own affectionate Emily. Ihe next moment his ha kI, trembling with excitement, was upon the lock of the door- but still he listened to hear more. «0h' Alois ! mine own sweet Alois ! must I, can i, call you cruel one, for thus deserting me, when all around have fled," cried Emily again, for ,t was indeed herself, though now her voice was stifled with sobs. On hearing these words. ALJq K».o* .i , ° iow stool in the centre of the apartment, and 50 with her hands laW backs downwards upon obbed^K 7 n" '"" '""■"» "P- 'hem. sobbed Lmdy Canosa, ,l.e daughter of a Emi.,rheerSthettoI:hX'r.:3 stretchedout his hand; "alid you, too, C you beheved that I was so base as even o think of deserfng y„u ?•• «No, no;" said the«.ndg,rl,hastilylo„kingup,a„dblushi„g, and sm.b„g through her tears, "never did I believe you capable of deserting me- for though I said that you were cruef and even ujatefu 1, I said it in my fre„.; and de" pair; well knowing at the same time that yoa were ever but too kind, compassionate, gener- ous, courageous, and noble-minded." «AhI of the 1.0 ble place in which they were. I knew that you would believe this of me." At this, Emily cast a glance of passionate fondness towards her lover, as she said hastily. « But now let us go, while the time remains fnr no" n-x^L p i o«^ k '.-7 1 r "^ ^^^'^ ^'^^^ arose, and hastily left the apartment, with a sensa' 51 t^n of Inward joy wl.ich thoy could with difficulty suppress. Then down the stairs they went, with a speed so rapid, th It H could hear the wind as it whistled by he,„' but s . scarcely felt the cold stone stejl wh.Ist they descended. As they hurried on however, and increased their speed every instant, they suddenly heard the sound of tZ ^^'^''^'^'^''-l^te'" muttered Em ly. wuh a shuddering sigh, as she fell fe>nt.ng into Alois's arms. Her weight pressed heavily upon hi., but stil he Ze three and four steps every bound, but still h.s pursuers gain fast „pon him. And now, from h,s almost supernatural exertions, he grows g,ddy, sick, and faint ; and now again! as he smks on a step with his lovely burden he hears an exulting voice whisper in his ear fre have you yet ! " ' Then soon after, when he recovered his _ ^._ himself had room which >ereei v carri I they had just quitted, and that Peter Gueschn. Agustine Parthenope. and sZh ■""' "'"'" '^ '"^•^ ~ -i -re standing around them. A thrill of despair ran through Alois, as he looked vaZTy around h.m at the small apartment: the two narrow and strongly grated windows, the farthest nght-hand corner, next to the win- atT.tf;?''''*>'^''PP-'-o.ne°. cold LI : '"'' ^'''"-^"'' '-"y «' the cold flagged floor. Peter Guesclin and his ook and hen together joined in a hearty list: f "r* '''•^' ^"''•^d his arms acroi his breast, and assumed a look of greater des- pa.r; but their laugh of derision, and one recalled h.m to a sense of his situation, and at once nerved him to his purpose; a pur- He hen suddenly grasped his dagger, and tr'"lu fl ""^ ''^''''y "^ 'ightlg from the scabbard, he plunged it in the hlJTf Peter, who was stand ing next to him, and who instantly fell back :ith a g^arXh": 53 sudden attack was of course signal enou-.!, for he oe e two to begin ; so wiLut morV^ they fell upon the unfortunate Alois whn however had expected all this befor ! Hi begun and had in consequence prepared h« for the conflict. The'rush wa's IZ'y til H .1 J '' •"' ""' "^^^'^ »" '» despe J and thL !f\ T^ "' "^'^""""^ ''^ -"life, and tha of h.s beloved companion ; the othe The blood from the wounds of Peter X : '" 't^ '"--We upon the floor, a^d tW also wh.ch trickled down from the scars „ those engaged, now ran in little rivulets along the ground ; but in the midst of allthe P-t, IloistonTnuSZ-t/tt."^-;; Em.ly fly for your life I" But the foS withT'*'/'; "^"' ^"-^ '-''• ^^-^^X with clasped hands, her body bent a little =:^ .«"^ .^- -lo'^ f-- and evi . """""' ■'" " '"OX- of dreadful agonv • but when she saw that her presence louYd'ava »oth.„g she. with a presence of mind anTa • •' ." ''.f^ ,-^->'' ''"*"'>'-V"iV,"^r,'n. ^V^'v;; I H 54 true courage which never left her, sprung from the room, down the long stone stairs, like the nimble chamois down the craggy sides of the precipitous and lofty Himalayan mountains ; then groped her way through the dark and dungeonish kitchen, then sprung up the little stairs, and through the passage into the street ; nor did she for one instant slack her speed till she had reached the coining hous^ in Toledo street, and from thence sent off six men to the rescue of her ever-adored Alois. Yes, indeed, they were the very same six men who had followed in pursuit of her a few hours before, but who, having lost sight of her and Alois, had just given up the chase, and returned. Poor Emily, having thus fulfilled her task, now felt so overcome with fatigue and ex- haustion, that she went to Alois's room, and flinging herself upon his bed, she slept awhile. In the meantime the encounter be ween Alois and his antagonists continued fierce and deadly as ever. Ppt^r h^r ^« u;„ _ back on the ground, but had recovered so rapidly in the short time since, that he was now actually making repeated efforts to turn on h,s side: though, were we to judge by the frightful appearance of his countenance during those struggles, we should say that the dreadful pain occasioned by.them would be likely to bring on his death. This con- clusion to the scene, however, Peter would never have heeded, provided that he had hi* revenge. This : .„ was the occasion of hi» struggles-this I.3 cause of his fruitless efforts, while the words, « Revenge ! re- venge !" came with a hissing sound through his clenched teeth and clammy lips. hIi see, see 1 again and again he directs all his fast.fa.hng energies into one powerful effort-but no .'-his hand drops back in vain, while his mouth foams, and his eyes nearly protrude from their sockets, from the dread- ful fire within. And now, look ! his nervou* hand reaches to within half a foot of Alois while again the blood bursts out afresh from' his own breast, and that merely from the desperate workings of his mind. But Alois minds none of these things: his energies much exhausted from his previous unnatural 46 ^ more-h.8 eyes grow dim, yet he sees th! dagger pointed at his breJf \S- ., strilcA if. -J I oreast, and is unable to avmd the keen blade, he stnmbles over PeteH outstretched foot, and falling, hel^, by his s.de, utterly unable to hinder hil from thrusting the dagger through hba^fc" V n'r iuh "'""'"^ '"'^ 'oisoughtS venge. At the same moment that he falls though the door near the window Ts bur open wuh a crash, and in rush the six coSs avenge his misfortune, and to be^ h ^ ill he directs fnies; never sing to use t single in- strength is n strike no e sees the s unable to ps back to nbles over ^gi he lies 'nder him his back, ought re- t he falls ' is burst X coiners bear him CHAPTER IV. house; and when he reJedoHul'TJ tain, he saw, with a mixtiirp «f .*'"" and pleasure, the ovetS 1^ T^ too as if her heart would belJ' 1 Ir^'"^ effort, "why weep 58 ^ . so?" "Oil/'' -you lc„„, that I never * "^"" ''"'»- fr""" you: j,.a ;7^; conceal anything >'"" '^ere no ^^^e 1 ' '^'l^" ^ J-eard that ">y affections, n,y Jo've^^^ /• ''"'^'^^"^ of brother; you, to be cIrrL f, '""''' ^-"^ "X .^-k cold grave.." soaWn "?"'^ '" ">« ,*"». and twistino; LJ'^' '^^ ^ent over J^-^Jet-blackhaif.sheit^^'- ''"^^'"^ '" i'is ^concentrated, si™.„'e 'w t'^""'''' " f'"'''"-"?. !"? «» tie time she d"d " T" '""^ ^-^-k ^•^'^ g:ently „po„ h;7/»' fe ^arm tears «»•»« time both thettet •!' 't'"'"^ «* the ''': ^^Pth of her so :t7 "f .h- We, and ''"t those tears were t„ T '"' ^-^'''rings • «" the bosom of thin ."" ^' "'^ rfev-drSs '^'"•ch ever drinks 7 '' ""^ «'-«ty rllf J- sustains iiSt;;^^'^::''^-^^ "- P- %'>tning flashed'^Sr; ""' ''^ ''^^'y- thunder roared, until 1^1 ?"'' '''« heavy ;-y earth to its cemre anT'' '" ''^^^ the^ O'ock above ehert:",l''r^'' 'he house "^PPy beings heeded ' -^"^' "*"' "'es« "ot, for their lov e two e was (y. bursting into '^^' "you kno^ >"ceal anything ' ^^^e excess of ^" J beard that '^ confidant of ^"end, and my « early to the «be bent over Angers in his ^^ a burning., <^" bis cheek; e urarm tearj ^^*"g at the »er Jove, and 5 suffering's ; ? dew-drops tbirsty rose, '^e moisture Jts beauty. tbe heavy sbake the the house ^hese two ^ove was 59 ^Ih^uf IV'r ^'^ '^'"'' -histled loudly wuhout. and the rain beat violently against the casement,, as if it tried to drive them in but these two f„„d lovers twined Lh 1" arms together, and defied the angry stlV lerelZ \ "" """^'y- ""■' *''» they 'pL J ""Berous, in time began to amend Ite dagger of the revengeful Peter had passed through his ha^Ir „i . , lie, Ki J ^ ' '-''**«' 'o the shoul- der blade, but yet had escaped the lunl and so also materially i„juriL him n bandages and restoratives^ that'werT'appSd to the wound soon therefore relieved E and fina ly broua-ht him „ "^eiieved him, and strena^tl. I . ""^ ""'^ **> bealth tion of S ; K ^^ •"^''"^bile, the coi.stitu- broken W^ """' ^" '"'"^'' ''»P-^«d and Droken, from constant confinement, and at the reader may recollect, about the ated 60 nnddle of Agnano street, at the right-Land Jde as you go up towards the iLza di Ponte So poor Emily, though the separa- *.on to both the lovers was exeeedLy great, immediately packed up her S wardrobe, and then, 'fol Wed V a s ng a tendant set out for her new aLe. Sn her arrival at the house, she was surprised t^ «ee. not only her friend Rosalia, butllso he^ younger brother. Theodoric, who had been absent on a hunting party i„ the mounJns for some months past. The meeting between the young friends was joyous.- befweelT brother and sister it was affectionate. Now. permit us to explain a little. Prince < ' «'«"'W be united "\7P^ '^y^ -hen she! '«P"«y, and with thetl ,T'*P'°^''''«edl f «">e8« as that of 1 ^ ''"'^•=>' ^nd ten- 1 ^rj% forward to ttT""'/""'^.- both! ^7"' longing and ^1^' "^ "'«'• union! '^^ their thoughts It r^""«''. And! *"»e. which even thri'^' '''^ Ve off hashes from the east to . I ""^ %''tning tr\ '° '''^ «o" so „ ""t "'■ '■'•''"' *''« 'houghtsoutstripthe'ra;" ?r^'^ ^'^ «'-> •I'd their youthful r^Ti -^'^I'^iokly fy 'o penetrate the ve." .!"'' ^ '^"^'J. and f" «"'X- Yet they wl \ '"^"' ^'"o™ of ;'tt the ,h y -ere happ ^^^ ^ *7 'n the enjoyment of r"*' *''« «ther ^^anwhile AlorrrcoverT ""'^''* ^o-^ty , ^-i and began ^n;'' "'"^^'y ^O" hfs f °"8:h very pajf IJ^^^^ ^^ again. But '^<'. elastic as ever M 5" ''"^ ^^ ^^ •^P'f 'y worn him d'wn ^1 ^ '^"'"^ ^-ad spartlino- « — , . °'^"' yet his 8m;i„ ._ . - -—*«<' joyous as they ■„,;;;' p d b d h 81 ai O] I s ai in cc fo for'^ard witi, fond Py days when she r« of Realm and 'ke'v^eprog.essed delicacy and ten- ""* ^'»'V; both * "f their union sagrerness. And ^*' 'he lapse of -"selves scarce ' '''e lightning ««^ or from ehe ''^ did their ne— so qnicfeiy " ""ward, and "'fu' gloom of Py- the one '^' tl'e other *er's society. r^iy from his ^gain. But 'ep was firm 'ffe^ng had — ««v; aiia ^ ^ey used to 63 e. Still, notwithstanding all, a careful ob- [server might detect beneath that smile a look of pensive sadness; and then a lingering softness in his eyes, which told a tale of love that never died. One morning, after break- fast, as he was seated in one of the windows, looking out at some old dirty sheds, his room door slowly opened, and admitted, without any previous intimation of his arrival. Prince Canosa, the father of Emily ; who, having placed a chair near him in the window, sat down, and thus spoke, with a bow and a benignant smile, « Signor, though proud and delighted as I am, to see how quickly you have recovered once more to health and strength, permit me, for the present, to set aside all compliments, and to proceed at once to matters of business ; a business which I can no longer conceal from you. Now, Signor, you have known me for some time, and may therefore have long ere this per- ceived, that I never speak of favours, unless I intend to perform them ; nor yet do I utter compliments, unless I feel them. As, there- fore, my mind is entirely taken up with what I am now about to remark, I cannot, with the »a>r • exactness express sentiments that I do not feel; so let us, as I have just said, set aside all compliments and mere useless ex- pressions, by proceedinjr at once to business. \on may have already learned, that this house ,„ ^i,i„h ^g „„^ ^^.^^ .^ ^11^^ ^^^ coming house, and we— the coiners. Where- fore, as such, we are necessarily suspected in the eye of the law; and that law has, of course, its spies, who watch and dog our motions continually: happily, however, we have, by great care and caution, as yet evaded their greedy and watchful eyes. Well, all who are in this house, you can easily conceive, will, if discovered, be ac- cused alike of the same crime, and will then be punished in a greater or less degree according to the proof brought out against them ; but still none would escape condem- nation, and consequently their share of pun- whment. Now, my reason for coming to you this morning is, that I might, in the first ^ , --j.,„.„ „,^3c uu-importarit matters to you; and then, in the next place, that I might 95 invite you to become one of us, in our pro- fitable, though dangerous amusement; for you yourself know very well, that every man may as well have the gains as the painsj in all kinds of pursuits and occupations, whether lawful or unlawful. Bu "now," continued the prince, with a i rrch smile, •* I would add, between ourselves /ovr know, one other inducement to bring you over to our side ; and that," said he, laying his hands on Alois's knees, and looking kindly into his face, " and that is, that should you accede to our proposal, I would at once pledge you my honour to fulfil the request that you have once or twice made of me already, which was that you might become my son-in-law." Alois blushed slightly at these latter words — remained silent for a moment, as if consider- ing how to act — and then, looking up again, he stretched out his hand, and grasped that of the prince with warmth, as lie said briefly, "I'll do it." The prince then returned the grateful pressure of his young friend's hand, and proceeded to say, with a slight appear- ance of embarrassment, " Since, then, you F 2 * «6 W agreed to what I hare proposed, I shall 1 K • T\'^''^^ ^i* you. and inform you bnefly of the real motive of my wish - til ^■"'^ "'"'"''' J"'" "^- The coiners, reckonmg our chief, you, and all, consis of thirty men; all good, serviceable men, so long as all goes right and smoothly-I Ly "o long as all goes right and smoothly, a^ you may easily imagine, that amongs so »any here will be some who will ever be Sri-" ' ""•! ''"^y '» I-"''*' fo' trifl«. thl u r"'*''^ "■" "^^ -'* «ome of them J who have long kept a jealous eye upon your movements, fearing lest you have and customs, and that you are ready to give nformat.o„ against them on the fim opL- tunuy that offers. Now, you know that tl only way to put down the discontent of these men, is to endeavour to set aside the cause of Lt'L r"'r' ""^ "n«-'siness. With this intent, therefore, our chief has commissioned Thv T" '" ''""' ""** '""'''' y"" *o j"« «« •> as by this means vmi «,;ii ..x . * the disaffected party, that your motives for 67 coming under this roof were not those of baseness and treachery, but pure good will. Hence, signor, you see the necessity of at once joining our party, or of quitting this place altogether. The latter course of pro- ceeding, I was sure you would not adopt as," added the prince, looking archly at his young friend, " I knew you would be loth to leave a fair friend, who has watched over you both in sickness and in health. The former course, then, only remained ; and that being the case, and having at the same time a strong inducement to offer you, I willingly and without any hesitation undertook the message from our chief to you." "And a thousand thanks I give you, for both the invitation and your exceedingly kind offer," replied Alois, with sparkling eyas and a blushing cheek, "more I cannot add, as indeed I cannot find words to express the depth of my gratitude." " You need say no more," said the prince, in a slow and grave tone of voice, " as I have for some time past perceived that my daughter's happiness is bound up in you ; wherefore, in uniting her «8 V to you, I only seek to promote her happiness, though I may be the efficient means of increasing yours also. Without my daughter yon would not be happy, and without you, »he would not be happy; thus, as you are both equal, gratitude is not called in on either side. There, no more, I beg I so let us go at once to our friends in the coining room." Then arm-in-arm they left the room, and descended the narrow broken stairs, which turned sharp round to the left, at the end of the long hall, and directly opposite to Alois s apartment. The stair down which they descended was narrow, dirty, and dark. At sight of it, a painful sensation and thrill of inward horror ran through Alois, as it recalled to his mind the last scene which h« had witnessed on those long, damp, mildewy stone stairs, when in search of his beloved Emily. The wind whistled up in their faces from the lower chambers, and sent a chill to their very hearts. But the prince was accustomed to it, and to the place; so they both descendpri oninL-Kr «-^ *i . , foot of the stairs—a passage it was used and T happiness, means of ly daughter itbout youy as you are lied in on eg ! so let he coining i the room, ken stairs, eft, at the opposite to ►wn which and dark, and thrill ois, as it which h« ( mildewy 3 beloved heir faces It a chill ince was ; so they ge at the used and 09 intended for, though it waS as wide as either of the two rooms on each side of it. Now, the stairs came down, as it were, at the right- hand corner of the passage ; and because the passage was four times as wide as the stairs, there was of course a space ben ath the hall over-head, and between the banisters and the left-hand wall. The ceiling of this place was high, stuck with rusty hooks, which might have been used for hanging hams on, and white-washed like the walls; but the floor was laid with smooth black flags, which gave a dismal and forlorn appearance to the whole place. There was nothing in the shape of furniture to be seen, except indeed, some old rusty saws and files, thrown carelessly into a corner at the further end, might be classed as such. In the middle of the right and left walls of the passage were strong oaken doors, leading into apartments much the same size as the passage, with an iron-barred win- dow in the front of each; all having the same appearance — white-washed ceiling and walls, with a flagged floor. The prince, fol- lowed by Alois, walked directly from the foot :«»%* 'i' , iii m i j iiii» i m i m i mi,m-.j—- ''. '(!; ' 70 - V of the stairs to the door on the left hand; [ and, entering the apartment, went over to the fire-place, which was nearly opposite to the door ; and then, taking up an iron crow« bar which was lying clo?e at hand, he applied It to the marble flag of the hearth, and wrenching it up, he disclosed to Alois' astonished gaze, a flight of steep stone steps. Down these steps they descend, taking care to place the flag in such a manner, that when they'let it go, it shuts down after them into its place again, with a crashing, echoing sound. But, reader, since neither you nor I were smart enough to have entered before the flag fell down, let us now drop the cur- tain, and think of other scenes. CHAPTER V. ^e^ are married, two in onej 1 heir time is come, the deed is done. JBut sorrow follows faster stilL And ever has her cruel will. Peter Guesclin and Agustine Parthenope, after the horrible deed that they had been guilty of towards the daughter of one of their acknowledged chiefs, could of course no longer expect mercy at his hands; so they took the wisest course, and declined going to the coming house again. But this manner of proceeding, as the coiners well knew, was a great blow to their institution; because now Peter and Agustine had them entirely in their power, as in a moment thev eo,.ld .r,V« information against them, and\uin their whole gang. So the coiners thought that ff Q - - fc i^if #J^?WI»*»« J"'- it welUoo, aye, as well as the wretch who has IS offered to him only for a moment allays h.s buying thirst, his horrid agony. To T withhim^asaworsepunishLnMbLflS lldt2 : "" "'"^'^ ^»' «-" to be W fru"t hi ^'^""'^/''«*^- "f Erebus-to tovefrui hanging above bis head, and y„. iiut ue aoie to reach i>. f^ « i "^^^ streams of water fl!.l ' T!" ^^. '^"y^*^ Q ^'i"g before his greedy 74 eyes, and yet not be able to drink. Peter fed his mind with revenge, a passion that clot- ted his better feelings, and took entire pos* session of his very soul. His whole thought, day and night, was revenge. His whole mind was bent upon that one base passion, so that the very word seemed to be stamped upon his brow. His grisly, neglected red hair showed plainly that he cared for nothing but that one base purpose. His keenly knit eye- brows showed also the determination and eagerness with which he pursued that pur- pose, while his compressed, foaming, and often bloody mouth, seemed to express the intensity of his inward feelings, and to say, " Revenge or death !" Wherefore, you can at once perceive, my dear reader, that to un- dertake to judge between these two charac- ters, — between these two men, would be an extremely diflScult task. Now, Peter nurtur- ed revenge, and thus satisfied a selfish pas- sion. Well, Agustine also had a love of mo- ney, and thus he, too, satisfied his selfish passion. Which, then, was the best and most upright man of the two ? " Why, Agustine, 75 of course," some would say, until they had looked a little further into the matter, and had perceived that from his love of money proceeded many evils : ever plotting and plan- ning how to rob, cheat and swindle those who were richer than himself. From the encour^ement of this passion, then, his mind also became depraved, and his looks. ' the index of the mind," assumed that hab- itual appearance of wariness, cunning and duplicity, which we made mention of in the first part of our story. Oh I it was the look ofvillany. treachery and deceitfulness, which would ever cause the soul of sensibility and fine feelmg to recoil with horror. A look of the maniac and the murderer were stamp- ed in legible characters upon that otherwise lofty, commanding, and even handsome brow. But, alas ! of what good is the "fair exterior, If the heart of the natural man is corrup and rotten at the core ?' What is beaufv when unadorned : what is the body without the mmd, or the outward mnnn«. „:.j.„... .. true graces and charms <,f the soul ? Noth- ing, nothing; for the mind will ever show 'r 1 III I 76 Itself In the cmuuemnee, and express its hidden thought, as plainly as the pen of the writer does upon paper. The countenance, then, being nothing more nor le^s tl- .n "the book of the soul ;" a book which has its pre- face written upon the brow, its contents within thf eyes, and its very sentiments de- lineated, aye, depicted on that either com- pressed orsmiiing lip. Thus, as the powers of the mind overbalance, and are stronger than the powers of the body, go the really plain countenance may be rendered pleasing by a virtuous and well regulated mind ; while the truly handsome countenance may be ren- dered disgusting and hateful by the effects of an ill-tempered and wiongly consf-ucted Imagination. But let us now direct our attention, for t short time, to the prof^p^dings of Alois and Cmily. ijlt >5 Prince Canosa had now deten iined that their marriage should takeplr. r or the Wed- nesday follow -ing the events elu d in the last cr rvpter. In consequence of this deter- mination, Alois almost resided at Giovanni express its pen of the •untenance, !t» 71 "the las its pre- 3 contents iments de- ither cotn- the powers e strong^er the really d pleasing liid; while ay be ren- he effects )nst^ucted fcion, for a Alois ??,nd ined that the Wed- d in the lis deter- Giovanni 77 di Piaccida's house, where, it may be remem- bercd, Emily had for some time taken up her abode. The four companions, Alois, Emily, Theodonc and Rosalie, being now continu- ally together, grew more and more fond of each other's society. The bare idea of Alois being absent for even one day, gave great pain to Emily. Her constant seat, every morning, was in her own bedroom window, which looked into Agnano street, and from which she could see whether Alois came to pay his accustomed morning visit or not.-^ ^ut how ^ ^eat ,ms her disappointment when those morn .g hours went by and still no Alois M/.....;>r Emily. How mournful would she look, . , when her straining orbs wou d be strained in vain, and when her lovely eyes would grow dim with tears of sorrow and regret. In this way the pensive Emily grew more pensive; but still everv day appeared to look more beautiful than ever, while her blushing cheek and downcast eye told a tale that often trembled JT, ITI i"'A^"' ^^-^ ^^-' how herfond heart would flutter, when h.V knock Was II II Ward at the door, or when hh airy step wa. heard upon the stairs I "Ah ! how true it is," exclaimed Theodoric, one morning that he witnessed these emotions; "how true it is, « that love is never silent or depressed, save when the loi ed one is not by." « Then sure it is," returned Emily, as she patted and kissed his cheek aflFectionately; then sure it is, my brother, that your We I should now be silent, since Rosy is not "Anisoitis," said he, "fori spoke of your love, and not of mine." The love of Theodoric and Rosalia like- wise proceeded with the same celerity and swiftness as that of Alois and Emily; so it ^vas determined that they should be united on the same day as their young friends. Joy and preparations were therefore going on on all sides; and a continued stream of atten- dants was running all day long from and t« the coining house, as it had been decided that our hero and heroine should occupy the room already allotted t« Aln{« ;« *i. :_. • house. ° f step was true it is," '^ that he true it is, ssedy save ly, as she ionately ; OUT love ly is not spoke of Ha like- rity and ty ; so it e united ds. Joy g on on f atten- 1 and to ded that ipy the L;u-iiiin s 79 At length the wished-for Wednesday morn arrived. Both the bridegrooms had repair- ed to Giovanni's house, and had already taken their seats in the large ball-room, each one next to his blushing bride, when in came the old white-headed monk, who had been sent for from the neighbouring convent, to officiate at the ceremony. He was a very venerable old man, with hair white and glo*. sy as silver, and hanging i„ long silken rinff- lets down his back, like that of a girl, ffis face must once have been handsome, but now It had become blanched and wrinkled with age, though his figure, which was not above the middle height, still remained erect and firm as ever. His portly and noble bearinir, too, stamped him as a man of no mean birth, whilst It also indicated his religious character and priestly oflSce. He now stepped into the room where the bridal party was seated, with a slow, solemn, and dignified movement. At sigLt of Gio- vanni and Prince Canosa, the muscles of hi. face lor an instant relaxed into a smile, as stretching out a hand to each he gently whig. 80 pered, with an exceedingly impressive voice, " God in Heaven bless you both I" The Prince and Giovanni instantly returned the fervent pressure of the old man's hand, and then pointed towards their daughters. The monk turned slowly with the motion of their hands, and bowing low, imprinted a kiss on the blushing cheek of each of the youthful brides. The ceremony was then soon performed ; and after the priest had again kissed a cheek of each, the whole party sat down to break- fast, a meal which would well deserve the name, were it called so from the many delica- cies and varieties with which it was compiled. Yet with all a mournful sadness took posses- sion of the countenance of each of theguests, a very unaccountable sadness, too, at such a moment as this, when all should be joy and gladness. There, at the foot of the large table, and next to her father, sat the blushing, but yet more than ever pensive Emily. At her right was hfir fakliPr .at lioi. 1«A- *l,-»4. i i « - y „^ izf* ac*;, bxiab lUili^ iOVed friend, her husband, who now turned fre- 3S8ive voice, )th I" The Jturned the ! hand, and Iters. The ion of their d a kiss on le youthful performed ; ied a cheek 1 to break- eserve the any delica- 3 compiled. idk posses- the guests, at such a be joy and table, and g, but yet t her right OTig loved rned fre- 81 quently to gaze on her lovely features with a mixture of both pride and, like the rest of the company, of sorrow too. At the head of the table sat Giovanni di Placcida, the chief of the coiners, at his right his daughter, and at his left Theodoric Canosa, the youthful husband. Emily arose from her chair, atid whispering something into her father's ear, she left the room, and retired to her own apartment, which was up stairs, afid over- looked Agnano street below. She had as- cended one flight of stairs leading up from the ball-room which she had just left, and had turned to ascend the last, when a narrow door suddenly opened and revealed to her horrified gaze the now distorted countenance of the hateful Peter Guesclin. There was a turn here on the landing, so as to be able to ascend the last flight which went towards the front of the building. On the landing, in the back wall, was a curtained window, look- ing into the garden at the back of the house, and at the risrht hand side nf tKi'a a^A o* ♦!,« foot of the last flight, was this narrow door in the wainscoafc where Peter had appeared : ! li 82 . ^ thus, as Emily had ascended the stairs to the landing, and turned a little, this door was eUrectly opposite to her. The poor girl now stood with clasped hands and eyes transfixed with horror, but without uttering a single exclamation. Pe- ter then stepped forward, with his eyes still fi«d upon her, as if he feared to lose sight of her again; and directing a cocked horse- pistol towards her head, he muttered in a low. stemyoice, "Even breathe a single word, and the contents of this (shaking the pistol at her, and grinding his teeth with passion), , "enter your brain I" Emily trembled, for 8he saw ,n his squinting eyes that he meant .what lie said :-« And yet," thought she, death IS preferable to dishonor, therefore I wi 1 speak, I will call for assistance. Help J "help !" she shrieked-" murder ! murder 1" she cried, till the house echoed again. The next instant, as the party rushed from the ball-room to her assistance, Peter made another step towards her, grasped the pistol had lodged harmlessly in the opposite wall, 83 tairs to the ' door was ;h clasped orror, but kion. Pe- eyes still lose sight ^ed horse- 1 in a loWy §;le word, the pistol passion), I bled, for be meant ght she, erefore I . Help! lurder I" n. led from er made le pistol the ball ite wall. he cursed, he swore, and then dashed the weapon with vehemence to the ground. The next moment, however, a thought struck him, and with a savage smile he approached his innocent victim, who had fainted on the floor; then passing his arm hastily around her waist, he lifted her from the ground and carried her through the narrow door, down a flight of steps which winded to the right a few yards below the entrance. With the rapidity cf their motion Emily immediately awoke from her fainting fit ; and seeing where she was, she screamed loudly again. But Peter, with a look of fierce anger and a gesture of vengeance, soon silen- ced her, and on they went once moie. The passage through which they went was dark and narrow; the wind whistled up it, too, and made it appear beyond description dis- mal and mournful. It was the stair lead- ing down to the room where Giovanni kept the money already coined in the coining- house in Toledo street. Now Peter knew ail the ins and outs of this place perfectly well, for he had often been entrusted to carry 84 money into this very place, and thus also knev that there was another door opposite to the mam entrance of the room below, open- ingmo a back garden, and by which he had both entered and could now depart, provided ^ vas not, overtaken before he reached it. He was now descending rjtpidly and getting close to the door of the room, which was close up to the foot of the stairs; but now he hears his pursuers following fast beh;nd him, and now the oaths, the curses, and the clash of steeL Alois was foremost among the crowd • Ais eyes seemed starting from their sockets' with the eagerness of pursuit, whilst his breathing was long and heavy. His heart beat quick, his mouth worked with passion, and his nostrils distended as if they smelt a mixture of love and a fiend in the breeze that whistled up the gully. "Stop him! stop him!" cried Alois in a hoarse, husky voice, whilst he flourished a dagger in his hand. The noise and uproar now became frightful, increased a thousand told by the echoes of that long and dreary passage. Peter's e^certions and prodigioii 85 strides increased, but still l,is pursuers gained fast upon t.m, shouting louder than ever- atop him ! stop him !" The darkness and the gloom seemed to grow every instant thicker and heavier, but s .11 neither the pursuers nor the pursued a ated aught of their furious speed, rather seeming to become proportionably desperate and determined as obstacles presented them- selves in their way. Now the moment of suspense is dreadful. Peter trips over an old leather bag as he is about to enter the door at the foot of the stairs, and is thrown head- ong on the flagged floor. Alois approaches to withm two yards of him, but Peter, with a desperate struggle, succeeds in getting i„. Side the door, and shutting it to with his foot. The pursuers outside knew but too well that the door had a spring-lock, and that Peter had therefore escaped them, so their shout of despair was dreadful ; it was like the shout of so many devils in hell. "I'll lire throuarh the d..,-." „,;„4 *i.- Prince, frantically producing k pTsToI atrf edging^his way through the crowd, towards Ill WW ! 86 the door. « For God's sake do not," cried Alois, laying one hand on the arm of the prince, with the intention of restraining him from his purpose, whilst he covered his eyes with the other, "for I should rather see her « dishonored, but yet alive, than a bleeding ** and ghastly corpse." But now, dear reader, as this chapter has grown long enough, and as Giovanni has gone in search of a crow-bar to force the door, let us retire alone to search the hidden mys- teries of the coining room. I 67 not,*' cried arm of the aining him id his eyes her see her a bleeding ;hapter has )vanni has Je the door, dden mys- CHAPTER VL That heart that loved completely, hre long shaU beat no more ; ihat voice that said so sweetly. "Tis you do adore," Wiu soon be hushed and stUL We have already pointed out the way how to descend to the coining room beneath the old house in Toledo street, so, without goinff into particulars we may suffer ourselves to recal each place, as well as we can, to our individual recollection. We, then, enter the street door, pass through the long hall, turn sharp round to the left, and descend the stairs to the passage, cross that and enter the door in the middle of the left wall of the passage • then, on walking across this apartment, we come to the hearth, take up the crow-bar, and wrenching up the flag, we descend into the cavity, drawinir down fh^ ^.r. oK..,. ^..^ heads so as to avoid discovery. We now descend a stone stair until we reach a heavy 88 oaken door, at the bottom of the flight, on opening which we find ourselves in the coin- ing room, having a low ceiling, but being still a good sized apartment with a flagged iloor like the rooms overhead. There was a large sized furnace in the left wall of the chamber, around which about twenty men were employed. Some were melting lead; some were beating out old pewter basins, whilst others were engaged at a much neater and much more costly employment, that of refining silver over an intensely hot fire of bones and charcoal. All were silent at their several t)ccupations ; not a word was heard to break the solemn stillness of the air, nor yet for a moment to disturb their apparently monotonous employment. The steady stare of watchfulness and anxiety was depicted on every countenance, unbroken by a single gesture. In this lower region there was, of course, no light, save the light which candles stuck in tin candlesticks and nailed against the wall emitted. The light in the room, then, was of a dingy yellow hue, and added much to the e flight, on in the coin- but being h a flagged ^here was a vail of the wenty men siting lead; ter basins, luch neater jnt, that of hot fire of mt at their as heard to lir, nor yet apparently teady stare lepicted on f a single of course, idles stuck st the wall then, was luch to the 89 already sombre cast of the coiners. In the middle of the room was a long deal table, screwed down to the floor and covered thickly with rich wines and fruits. At the right hand end of it, that is, at the end farthest from the furnace and the coiners, was seated in a large arm chair Theodoric Canosa, and leaning on his left shoulder his wife, the beautiful Rosalia, who now and then fondly twined her delicate taper fingers between his dark curls, or kissed his cheek with a never dying affection, whilst the graceful and nympk-like bend of her body showed forth her every charm. "Caesario," cried Theodoric, addressing an old grey-haired man who was refining silver, « we must be vigilant and watchful « from this time henceforth, more so even " than we ever have been." « I know it, I know it," replied the refiner without looking up from his work, but still waving his left hand impatiently as if he did not like to be disturbed. Theodoric h-o'^ever did noj; seem to mind his impatient^^niove- ^4. r^_ L j^ added, « Y h2 know, Caesa- u 90 "rio, that Agustine has already given infor- "mation against us, or has, at least, threat- « ened to do so, which is much about the same « with him, aiid that you know yourself but "too well." "Yes, I do know it, signor," replied Caes- ario, raising himself a little as if with apparent interest m what the othei said. « Indeed, "for my own part," continued he, « I never "liked that Agustine Parthenope, from the very moment that he first joined us-^a mean, rascally, selfish Tuscan as he is. His very "look denotes li.e villain, and his manner " the betrayer/* **Hush! hush! stay your words and pas- <« sionate gestures," cried Theodoric with a look of anger, « for they are useless here.— " Say it to the villain's face and then I would " think something of it." ** Aye, a thousand times if necessary," returned Caesario passionately, and striking his fist hard enough against the end of the table to bark his knuckles-^" Why, how often rr^ vxwocu sworas together:' But ^^ Agustine is a coward, and he knows it," «( « <« iven infor- ast, threat- it the same )ur8elf but plied Caes- h apparent " Indeed, " I never , from the — a mean, His very s manner and pas- ic with a s here. — n I would cessary," striking d of the ow often r? But lows it," 91 added the old man with tlie air of one who had broiifirht forth an argument which could not be contradicted. Theodoric then turned towards his wife with a look of sincere affec- tion, and said In a low voice, « Rosalia, w^ now return home." They then arose to , part, bowed sliglitly to each of the coiners -'ho happened to be looking up from their work, closed the room door after them, and departed, the lovely Rosalia still leaning on her husband's arm. Now and then her tearful [ eyes were up-turned towards her husband's with a look of indescribable sorrow, when she saw the uneasiness and disquietude which he suffered. And thus true affection shews itself, not only in the mere expression, but in the look, the manner, the every action, set- ting forth its sweetness with that cool unre- straint which heeds not the gaze of the ob- server, and burns like a lamp with a steady flame, which never flickers nor wavers from Its point, but continually burns brightest at the centre, sending up its brilliant light to Heaven itself. Love came down from that Heaven to render himself agreeable amongst IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I 1^ ■ 3.6 i ■ 2.2 1.8 1:25 i 1.4 1.6 — 150mm v:

^> /^PPLIED^ IIS/MGE . Inc .^s 1653 East Main street J^s r^ Rochester, NY 14609 USA Jas*^ Phone: 716/482-0300 -=r-ss= Fax: 716/288-5989 1993. Applied Image. Inc., All Rights Reserved «^ r\ ^\' \ \ ♦ •<» ^'^ ^6^ %^^ ^^ r o o^ i ' i! i 92 men, but when he had heated h« tender darts wuhm their too confiding bosom, he plucked then, roughly out. and fpreXjou h^swngs flew quickly away. But. alas I the deep red blood that trickled fro« the wound the wound was one which never could be cured. So out of malice and revenge they made arrows of their own, steeped them Z he bloo of ,Heir wounds, and fi'red them „ he d„ect,o„ (towards heaven) whither Cupid fot f„, r '^'^ ^""""^ *° ^ «» »«=' of Jolly, for they soon perceived that their ar- rows were returned a thousand fold. « What then must we do?" men said; « to endure ht wounds without returning them," wLthe cone us.on to which they had c^me. B„\ alas.ma„alsof„„„douttohiscost,thatto endur w^ too dreadful and more th'a^ mo^ Ilr..^*" '""'"'" ^"°-«g-« one ..™'* /'''"' '^^^ »»"« h«tory of love, and '"" ""^ ^^«^«" "'^y Theodoric and Rosalia, as I f his tender bosoms, he reading out t) alas ! the the wound i man, that could be '^enge they d them in d them in her Cupid d his airy > an act of their ar- « What ndure his was the >e. But, t, that to han mor- Jy> out of linst one )ve, and )salia, as ( 93 well as all others, love with such enduring affection. Spite, malice and revenge were first the occasion of love, then pity, for the wounds that the human race had inflicted on each other, and lastly followed love, which is akin to pity. But now let us return to the portion of our story, which we dropped at the close of the last chapter. Giovanni di Placcida in a very short time returned with a heavy iron crow-bar. When he arrived at the door, he first inserted it between the door post and the upper hinge, and then with the united efforts of the prince and Alois, he forced the door from its hinges and rushed into the room, followed by the whole party. I'he room was not very large, nor had it any windows, and so, of course, had no light, except that admitted through the now open door leading into the garden at the back of the house. There was no fire- place, the walls were bare and floor dirty, but there were perhaps a dozen iron boxes, intended to contain the forged money, ranged around the apartment, but which rather diminished than added to its general beauty. I>l I M \> 94 The foremost of the party took a hasty survey plter nofr.'"' "'""''''""^ ''^'^'^^^^'r -ro„„df:t , hthS'soTh '^'" ""f -io„,a„dLiou.!L:tre;ir;s apparemly hopeless, for after some t.W thtt and :f '' " '"^y '''-«'"' '-'o ever; ho i as they were about to Xe unThl ^ u "^ued from a cUroa grov^ about a dozen yards from where they stood. A momen" had not elapsed 'ere the whole par"v ha rushed to the spot, and there on' hTcoJd damp g round, beneath those sweetly smeSti ctron trees, knelt Emily Farnese .^^ I^ white satin dress besmeied :" h Xd a;] d^rU ,,,as clasped together, and her eyeJ and features upturned toward heaven with a look of humility and supplication, ilthat of a samt, whilst she said aloud, and as if it dul not heed or take any notice of the friln.; -no haa J ust approached : « Oh God. forgi;e wty survey at neither passed on ^afge, and eir search may add, time they -very hole othing of , and just e search, 'P groan, a dozen moment irty hac the cold, smelling vith her ood and ler eyes I with a ke that is if she frien/Jg forgive 95 me, as thou hast promised to forgive those that are truly humble and penitent." So saying she bowed her head, and with a shud- dering sigh, burst into tears, and they were tears of anguish, scalding and bitter tears, too, which stained the peachy bloom on her cheek and marked her brow with sorrow. Immediately before her on the ground lay the wretched Peter weltering in his own heart's blood— that heart which had first urged him on to the horrible passion of re- venge. But he is cold and ^tiff now, so we shall in pity forbear to enumerate his crimes. And the short poniard, too, st'll sticks in his breast, because Emily was unable to draw it again : yes, the gentle Emily was the inur- deress. But, reader, do not utart so ; it was done in self-defence. Pet(?r would have dis- honored, disgraced her, but she struggled proudly with him, and drawing forth a po- niard which she had concealed in her bosom, plunged it into his very heart. And what punishment, what act of retribution could be too great for such a crime ? None ; on the contrary, Emily had just committed a deed : I II., I 90 which showed forth her truly courageous and noble disposition. She had rislted her life in defence of her honor, thus proving that her mind was not depraved, and that she still ardently loved one who had often risked and would yet willingly sacrifice his life for her's. And now, oh ! what joy did she feel when on looking up she beheld the loved one by her «de, beaming forth looks of tenderness and joy. She then arose from her knees, and with the whole party, (excepting two who had been appointed to inter the body of J'eter at the farthest end of the garden, be- lieath some shady trees,) again retraced her steps across the end of the garden, through the room containing the iron boxes ranged around it, up the dark and dismal stairs, through the narrow door, dgwn the stair-case and into the ball-room, where they once more assembled with looks more indicative ot joy and gladness than they had hitherto ejchibited. The smile, too, once more played around their dimpled mouths, aye, wid the merry laugh echoed throughout the room, so that you could hardly, were it rageous and d her life in ng that her at she still risked and fe for her's. el when on one by her erness and ^nees, and ; two who B body of :arden, be- traced her n> through es ranged fial stairs, stair-case hey once indicative 1 hitherto ice more iths, aye, ifoughout J were it 97 not for Emily's still horrified countenance, have imagined that place to have been so lately the scene of sorrow and despair. But Emily's usually smiling countenance, as I said, still retained a look of horror, bordering on agony, and seemed like a mirror to reflect the ghastly stare of death. Yet that look was not occasioned by her own actual suffer- ings, but in remembrance of that frightful look which Peter had assumed in his last dying agonies. In the course of the day Alois* and Emily's luggage and concerns were, as it had been previously arranged, removed to the room in the coming-house, whither they themselves also soon repaired and took up their abode ; accompanied, merely for the sake of com- panionship at parting, and for the purpose of seeing them safe on their way, by Theodoric and Rosalia, who, as I have already told the reader, had been on a visit to the coining, house during the temporary disappearance of i!.mily. The little party soon reached their „„i„n, and ain^r ineodoric and Rosalia had sat about an hour with their two friends, « I ! Hi H I iH i t •8 tjey arose and took their leave, «,yi„„, „ we 11 see you often;" then left the room, and m„rn d eo their o.n home. Time now 'Z, rathe: than went rapidly by, for the time had at last come that each of the young friends they should be united;" the social fire-side, •nd the happy home, were comforts which both parties now enjoyed, though continually surrounded by dangers at a distance. wWch £:r T" ''""^ "' y^' -»W -' -e ; il\t 't *""'"'" '"'PP'"*'^ '•'»' ''hen iu joys take their place within the heart, it drives far far away even the thoughts of either pain but the father, knows the bliss of seeing his young ones prattling around him? or who bu the mother, knows or can have any idea of the love with which she so tenderly fondles her young one on her knee ? But the cup of sorrow was not yet full, nor had Alois or Emily yet drank to the dregs the draught of bitterness; though happiness still, as if l„»i. to leave, hovered like a cloud around their raying, as » you know room, and > now flew, e time had ng friends -ime when 1 fire-side, rts which >ntinually ce, which I not see ; > when its > it drives ther pain ', for who Being his or who any idea / fondles the cup Alois or lught of « if loth nd their 09 heads-yet soon, ah, how soon, to be dis- pelled by the stormy breeze of wretched- ness and despair. One morning, as the whole gang, including the twenty-eight coiners and the four youn^ friends, Alois, Emily, Theodoricand Rosali^ were collected around the table in the coining room, the door of the apartment suddenly opened, and Agustine Parthenope presented himself, followed by a whole company of pohce-men. Agustine instantly perceivinir the efl^ect that his sudden appearance had lipon the minds of the coiners, smiled exult- ingly, and said, «It appears that I now come before you all unwelcomed, though you well « know how great and staunch a friend I have « ever been to you: this I consider ungrateful: « this I esteem as unfeeling conduct on your "parts; wherefore, as you do not respect my « feelings neither shall I respect yours." Thus saying, he reached out his hand and opened the door again, which he had hastily closed after he had entered, and once more revealing the vacant but placid countenances of the police, he siiid, whilst he pointed towards p -i W I Is a i i :f :i : I i 100 tl.em with hi8 hand, « When y„u look on my fnends out there, you can easily guess the motives of my coming here." " We guessed those motives even before you spoke, so there is no need of your fine 8I)eeches,» cried Csesario, the refiner, pas- sionately. *^ « Then if yon did," said Agustine, sternly, you now also know that resistance on your "p4rt IS utterly useless." « Well then," said Casario, in a subdued tone, "suffer the ladies to depart unmolested." The ladies ! the women !" almost shouted Agustine, as he again smiled savagely, « why" said he, pointing towards Emily, who sat in one corner of the room unmoved at all that passed, "perhaps she is the refiner, for all I know ;" and he smiled again. « I'-^"'*'? ' '"'^^ y"" «'■« <■"''« '« «ay such a thing, when you know that she is the most exalted, the most noble of women," cried Villam !" repeated Agustine with a sweet smile, which ill-concealed the fi^r- na-ion within him, "will you say that word when a look on my 7 guess the ren before f your fine finer, pas- te, sternly, ;e on your a subdued nolested." St shouted y, "why" i'ho sat in it all that for all I ly such a the most n," cried I passion. Ii a sweet i when a 101 "rope suspends you between heaven and "earth? Will you call me villain when the "bell rings, the drop falls, and you are strug- **gling in your last agonies, eh, Casario ?— "my once friend and boon companion." These last words he said in a low solemn voice, but it was the voice of mockery and revenge; then turning towards the police, he waved his hand, and said in a stern voice, « Do your duty !" The policemen at the command instantly rushed into the apartment, and seized each their man, ay, and woman too; for poor Emily and Rosalia were led away captives also, but they remained calm and unmoved during the whole proceeding- "for" murmured they, "if ow hn.bands are taken away, it is better for us to die than to "live." And thus they showed the strength of their attachment, for they were faithful in their love, even when they were about to be led to the scaffold; faithful even in death. Their youthful minds too, were now tortured to agonvj at the tl>""'»-^f» r^ -• " from their husbands; yet the mere cursory observer^could discern nothing in their calm iM I M .1 [ 102 beautiful countenances, by which to judge that their minds were racked within; nor yet could they perceive anything in their outward actions, save that now and then they would turn up their eyes, dimmed with tears, towards neaven, and clasp their delicate hands convulsively between the heavy iron bands that bound them behind their backs. All in the coining-room, when seized, had their harids instantly hand-cuffed behind their backs, and were in this way led off two and two; ascending the stairs, and proceeding through each passage, until they reached the street, with a quick and rapid motion. In the street, they were placed five abreast, but as there were thirty-two, the two women were placed m the rear; then with a body of police- men in the front, the rear, and on each side, the cortege moved towards the prison, a dense crowd of spectators following at a distance. 1 he countenances of the men as they moved on were stern, even to ferocity; those of the two women, calm and undisturbed as ever; whilst the police-men, especially Agustine,' watched their movements with savage and ;li to judge nthin; nor ig in their \ then they with tears, icate hands iron bands «. AH in had their lind their ►if two and )roceeding cached the otion. In >rea8t, but ►men were of police* each side, n, a dense distance. By moved )se of the as ever; agustine, ^age and 103 greedy eyes. Still, on they all moved with a firm and even dignified step, disdaining to notice the repeated cheers of the spectators that followed them, and who, from their eager- ness and enthusiasm, frequently pushed their way between the police-men, and shouted and cheered again in the very ears of the unfor- tunate captives. They appeared indeed to be patient under their sufferings, until a more minute observer would look upon them, and see at a glance, that many of them gnashed their teeth with rage, and restrained them- selves merely from the knowledge of having superior numbers to contend against. At length, however, between the gnashing of teeth and repressed anger on the one side, and the careful watchfulness on the other, the whole cortege reached the prison gate,' an immense piece of workmanship of wrought iron, with four strong locks. This gate was m the middle of an exceeding high stone wall, which enclosed a sort of flagged court- yard, the entire way around the prison, but which was intended for no particular purpose except perhaps to awe the eye of the observer 104 by the appearance of the great size and magnitude of the whole fabric. After the foremost of the police-men had knocked at the gate, it was instantly opened, and then, when the procession had entered, it was forth- with slammed to again with a creaking, grating noise, which ever sounds harshly to the ear of the wretched berng who finds him- self for the first time a prisoner within the gloomy walls of a gaol. As soon as the prisoners had crossed the court-yard, they were given into the charge of several turn- keys ; grim, long-bearded, dirty-looking^fel- lows they were too, who motioned impatiently with their hands, and directed the prisoners to follow them. After a little delay, daring which time they were again placing the prisoners two and two, the police-men fell back on either side, and suffered the prisoners to follow the turnkeys, which they did instantly—as they saw that it was no use to resist— up a long and wide passage, lined With strong doors on either side, to a door at the farthest end, into which they were thrust simultaneously, and without regard to age or (( 105 size and ifter the locked at and then, vas forth- creaking, larshly to inds him- 'ithin the 1 as the ird, they ral turn- kin^ fel- patiently prisoners ^ daring :ing the men fell prisoners hey did use to e, lined 1 door at re thrust o age or CHAPTER VII. That voice, that made those sounds More sweet, is hushed; And all its charms are fled. As soon as Agustine had seen that all within the gaol were safe, he turned from the prisoners' dungeon with an inward chuckle of delight; which, were he not a complete hypocrite, he could ill repress, but since he was not only one, but a perfect one, he both kept down his inward satisfaction, and assumed a melancholy countenance, as he turned to one of the turnkeys and said, " it is indeed mourn- ful to see, as we have done this day, so many fine men who will deceive and ruin their own souls for a little paltry gain." "But," continued he, changing his voice, and assum- a de \ntr. ---£5 7 if nojBcihlo. « when does their day of trial come?" "The day after to-morrow," replied the Ifj 106 turnkey, carelessly, and whistling a lively tune as he spoke, « the day after to-morrow IS to be the day, and no mistake." « Ah ! would that they would all repent ere then," cried Agustine, with a look of intense anxiety, as he turned up his eyes towards the arched dome of the p^issage. The turnkey stopped whistling for a second or two, and then stared with his saucer eyes at Agustine as he said, "Why, you must have an eye on one of those gals that we have clapped into the dungeon back there, or you wouldn't be so concerned about them; or perhaps you had some communication with her before now, eh !" At this last remark of the turnkey, Agus- tine turned towards him, put his finger on one side of his nose, and grinned as if he hoped that the reason for his concern towards the prisoners would be taken in that light. " Ah ! I see !" said tlie turn-key, as if read- ing his very wish, « I see!" and then they both laughed, and separated. Reader, we should not have mentioned this latter conversation between the turnkey and ng a lively r to-morrow * I all repent 1 a look of ip his eyes »e piissage. »r a second saucer eyes 1 must have it we have ere, or you t; them; or cation with key, Agus- \ finger on d as if he jrn towards lat light. ► as if read- then they itioned this rnkey and 107 Agustine, plain and even coarse as it may appear to you, were we not desirous of show- ing the utter depravity and guilt of Agus- tine's heart, who could thus pursue his enemy to an ignoble death, and the girl whom he once professed to love, to an attempt at her disgrace and ruin. But as you may have already perceived, the turnkey, degraded though he himself might be, at once saw through Agustine's wish, and knew that it was only a boast, however expressed in the mere thought and look; he laughed, there- fore, as much at as with the evil-minded man. But meanwhile, the prisoners in the dun- geon endeavoured to pass away the time as agreeably as they could. The room was constructed entirely of stone, the ceiling, walls and floor, and appeared very gloomy; as it had only two windows, or rather holes, —for there was no glass, nor even a vestige of a sash in either of them— of three feet long, and about a foot and a half wide, with two thrpi»-irjr»K iron K«-a A.^~-. a *- t •• * — ,.. ^^ij.ii ^„,j, „„,„ ^yp jjQ bouom. On the outside of each, so as to prevent any pos- sibility of escape. 108 Some of the prisoners now amused them- selves by looking out of these holes into the court-yard below, whilst others were seated on the ground playing cards, and others, by far the greater number, reclining in groups upon the hard stone floor ; but behind, near the door, sat Emily and Rosalia, weeping as if their hearts would break, whilst now and tljen they would suddenly dry their tears and endeavor, but in vain, to subdue the struggles and inward sorrow of their hus- bands, who now suffered, not for their own misfortunes, but for those of their beloved wives, who hung over them so fondly and watched so anxiously by their side. The scene was a sorrowful one indeed : there the youthful brides with eyes streaming with tears — there the grey-haired man, inured to trials and misery of every kind, but not to sorrow such as this — and there the hardened culprit whom nothing could soften, no, not even the tears of the innocent and guiltless, nor the pitying looks of their older compan- ions, nor a sense of their owu guilt and con- sequent imprisonment. But such are the • used them- »les into the vere seated I others, by r in groups ehind, near weeping as ist now and their tears subdue the their hus- ' their own eir beloved fondly and side. The : there the iming with 1, inured to but not to e hardened en, no, not d guiltless, er compan- It and con- :h are the 109 dispositions of men : some mild and gentle, some coarse and hardened. Some men have room for pity for the sorrows of others, even in the midst of their own sufferings, whilst others are so hardened and reckless, that they do not feel a sense of pity even for their own wretchedness and abandonment. But such a scene as this is too painful to dwell upon; wherefore suffice it to say that meals for the whole party were brought in that evening and the next day at the regular gaol hours, namely, breakfast at eight, dinner at one, and supper (for it was no tea, as they didn't get any) at six. There were then heaps of straw for them to lie down upon, so they could retire to rest whenever they pleased; and a sorry rest it was too. The night was to them, if possible, worse than the day, for then the gloom and darkness around caused the place to look more wretched and dismal than ever. It appeared, then, in fact, to look more like the dungeon of despair and misery than that room wherein was hid the precious gem of hope. At length the morning of their trial arrived, ! ' • •1 f 110 and they themselves became proportionably more and more dejected as the :ntful hour drew nigh. Their breakfast was brought in as on the previous morning, but they could taste nothing, nor bear to look at the food that was offered to them, for their minds, from previous and present anxiety, were ill at ease, and hence their stomachs loathed their accustomed sustenance. At ten o'clock the bell rang, the key turned in the lock of their prison, and a whole range of police- men and turnkeys presented themselves, and the foremost turnkey, the one who had spo- ken to Agustine on the first evening, shouted in a commanding voice, " Come forth, pri- soners, and stand your trial !" The prisoners were then placed in order two and two, and being well guarded on both sides, were forth- with conducted to the court room. They proceeded first towards the street, or rather court-yard entrance, then turned within a few feet of that into a narrow passage on- the left hand side, at the end of which they passed through a side door into the court, and were thence conducted at once to the Ill sportionably :ntful hour 3 brought in : they could at the food heir minds, 5ty, were ill chs loathed t ten o'clock the lock of B of police- Qselves, and !io had spo- ng, shouted forth, pri- \ie prisoners id two, and were forth- im. They jt, or rather d within a sage on- the vhich they the court, tnce to the dock, which was, of course, literally crammed, from the immense and unusual number of prisoners who occupied it, though the two ladies were, out of compassion, suffered to stand outside in front of the dock, and hence, immediately before the table of the witnesses. The prisoners, on being placed in the dock and locked in, glanced their eyes around to see what effect their sudden appearance might have upon the court; but a low, heavy cloud seemed to hang over the coun- tenances of the immense throng of spectators^ whilst every look was calm, gloomy and forbidding, as if they knew that the case of the prisoners was hopeless, and that their death-warrant was already sealed. The prisoners then glanced around again to see if they could detect a lurking smile, but no, not even a muscle was relaxed in the coun- tenance of even the smallest child. They then turned and bent their eager and inqui- ring eyes upon the judge, but his counten- ance was like the others, forbidding and also severe, with a haughty ^d digni^ed manner about him, which seemed to say but too Fl;i 112 plainly, " I have already decided this case, and intend to abide by that decision." When silence once more reigned in the ^ court, a stout, old, long bearded lawyer stood up and opened the case. | " My lord, and gentlemen of the jury," he began, «< the case which I am now about to bring before your notice is a criminal case, beihg a case for coining, and consequently a case for cheating and swindling both his excellenza and all his beloved and disinterest- ed adherents out of their rights and honestly gotten wealth. In fact, my lord and gentle- men of the jury, it is a case which, if not properly investigated and seen into, may prove in the end to be a very unpleasant case for each and all of us, as by first cheating us out of our rights and our property, we should at last from pure necessity be induced to commit an act which would criminate us in the eye of the law, and would thence occasion i us to suffer the very death which these men I yi^vs.ivss.g i,Kr vi.±t^ viwviv^ aic ijuw apparently deserving of—apparently did I sayp—nay, are certain of. Besides that, this is a case 113 this case, n." ed in the vyer stood jury," he ' about to linal case^ qnently a both his sinterest- honestly d gentle- ch, if not nto, may asant case eating us ve should duced to late us in occasion lese men jparentiy r ?— nay, is a case which would ultimately not only injure us, but the very men themselves, by engendering strife, anger and disagreement amongst their whole gang; wherefore as you may perceive, the very act of investigating this case, will prove to be a very peculiar case of kindness and good feeling, both to ourselves and the prisoners now before us. * Charity begins at home,' they say; if it does, then let us in th^ first place take care that in our libe- rality, mercy and kindness towards many offenders, we do not cheat ourselves, as by so doing we should find out to our cost that we suffered charity to bepin in the wrong place, that is, abroad instead of at home. If, then, these prisoners are deserving of punishment, let them be punished, and not extricate them to our own detriment, and to the detriment of others. Now this man (pointing to Agustine, who had assumed a smiling countenance, and who was seated by the green baize-covered table immediately in ifont of him, the now highly flushed and red-faced lawyer) can again prove, if neces- sary, that these prisoners are guilty and k2 114 worthy of death ; that is, he can prove that they have at various and many times coined and passed off bad and unlawful money—a crime which is punished only with death. So now, my lord and gentlemen of the jury, It, that is, I should say, the case now rests with you— with you, gentlemen of the jury, to decide whether the prisoners are guilty or not| guilty ; and with you, my lord, to be lenient or severe, to acquit or to condemn." With these words he bowed, smiled, looked around and sat down. The counsel for the prisoners then arose from his seat, and said in a few hurried words that he declined making any defence what- ever, as the case so far had obviously appeared in too strong a light against him ; yet, at the same time, he sincerely hoped that, if there was any mercy to be extended towards the prisoners, it would be dealt out to them without restraint, and in the same measure that they themselves, were they in the same situation, would wish it to be dealt out to them: so saying, he also bowed, and sat down. I 115 »rove that es coined (loney — a th death, the jury, now rests the jury, guilty or d, to be mdemn." I, looked en arose ed words ce what- ippeared et, at the if there ards the to them measure he same I out to and sat I The jury then retired ; and, after the lapse of half an hour, brought in a verdict of guilty, A solemn silence reigned through- out the court, at the awful word — a stillness and awe like that of death. It was that silent, death-like calm which ever is the fore- runner of a storm. That dreadful calm which stagnates the last drops of blood in the heart, and which seems to say the worst is coming. And yet it was also like that calm which precedes the hurricane, and makes the wretch believe that his life is safe. Next moment, though, a low moaning sound is heard coming over the bosom of the waters ; and then the crash and shrieks of death, as the stormy breeze is hurled on in its blackest fury; and the wretched mariner, though spared, now feels his soul (previously elated with hope) dead within him. Ah \ just so was that de- ceitful calm within the heaving breasts of the more than anxious prisoners, when they saw the judge draw on his black cap and gown, and heard him thus begin the sentence of their awful doom : " Prisoners at the bar — too soon to stand before the bar of eternity — U.' i I 116 prepare tr; meet your end. \ ou have heard the jury return a verdict of guilty; see that you are- not found guilty in eternity. The sands of your lives are nearly run down ; let your last moments be employed in meditation Md repentance for your many past crimes. The seal of death is already on your lips; see then that you take a proper advantage of the wanning which I give you, ere it be too late. Had « honesty is the best policy * been your motto, you would not now have been here to receive the due rewards of dishonesty. It is for taking more than that which was your lawful due, that you are here ; and for cheat- ing and robbing others of their hard earned property." The judge then added, with a voice that seemed broken by his inward emotion, « the prisoners are to suffer death by hanging, at eight o'clock to-inorrow morn^- ing— the men in fives, and the two women last of all, and by themselves ; but all to hang until, the ' argeon pronounces them dead." So sayioi,^, " ^^ ji? %e descendpd ^r^m ♦!-- bench, the tmr-t acljournf .1, and the prisoners were led ofi two and two, as they had entered, A :ve heard see that ty. The own ; let editation t crimes, lips; see a;e of the too late. Jen your 1 here to ^. It is as your )r cheat- [ earned > with a inward r death V morn- women to hang dead.' vrzxx iM'C risoners ntered, f» A 117 bittwere afterwards divided ; five men put into each cell by tliomselves, whilst poor Emily and RosnlJa, wc\.'ping bitterly, were imme- diately recor ducted to the same chamber whi h they had occupied in the morning. It was a long and melancholy part of a day to each and all of them. Emily and Rosalia spent it in tears ; whilst the men passed away the time in a dogged and stupified silence. In fact, a more perfect picture of wretched- ness and despair never before, perhaps, pre- sented itself within those gloomy little cells. The sad and dreaded morning, however, at length arrived; when everything looked, if possible, more dull and cheerless than ever. And now, listen — the key turns in each lock once more, and the prisoners are led forth in the same order, two and two ; but witii their hands bound behind their backs. All ]the men move on first, and then the wo- men, with eyes red and sore from excessive weeping. The spectacle is a mournful and piteous one ; even tnc iooks oi tne immense crowds that are come to witness the last sad scene, beam with pity and compassion. The 1J8 prisoners are then led to the foot of the drop, at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the iron grating, and there placed in order. Emily and Rosalia, unable to stand, lean for sup- port against the post of the drop; but whilst they do so, the bell rings — the venerable old priest suspends his task of administering consolation to the first five prisoners — the ropes are drawn, and poor Emily with a faint shriek, beholds her father struggling amongst the number. She falls to the ground overcome with horror; but soon again she recovers herself, as she has yet to see one more beloved than all, her long loved Alois (Alo-ese). Then he is led past her on the stairs — she shrieks, prays for mercy, and says that her cup of bitterness is more than full; but it is of no use, for the hangman grips his victim, and with firm hands draws the noose around his neck, slips the cap over his eyes, and awaits to hear the signal given; but in the mean time, Alois hears a long filirilL •niprnintr filirialr hoi oinw Yiim an^ ^U. next moment hears the crowd around him whisper that his wife is dead. This was the drop, ip to the r. Emily for sup- ut whilst TsiAe old nistering lers — the y with a rii;rgling e ground ^ain she 119 too much for mortal man to endure, so poor Alois — ^awoke, and found that he had merely slipped from the poplar log on which he had seated himself at sun-down the night before, crushed his slouching straw hat beneath him, kicked his nearly empty bottle of wine to some distance from him, and that all which he had witnessed was nothing but a dream. Yes, reader, " 'Twas all a dream, a thing of fancy, Nothing more, I do assure you," see one ed Alois (r on the rcy, and lore than langman Is draws cap over al given ; i a long -and the and him rhis was - 120 CHAPTER VIII. The gloomy night is past» And now the day comes fast. Bringing joy, dispelling care, For, says he, "my home is there." And now, dear reader, for fear your mind, already cloyed with horrors, should in a hasty moment tempt you to throw our book aside, we now add our finale, our "farce to the play," by expressing our sentiments in a more lively strain: so here goes. When Alois awoke, the morning sun had risen high in the east; and had already begun to lick up the early dews with his yellow and genial jays. The sky, the pale blue sky, was without a single cloud; and not a breeze, not a breath rustled in the dark green foliage, or rippled a wave on the meandering stream. The larks, the linnets, and the nightingales chirped loudly in the heavens; whilst the little humming birds too, drank the morning dew, or sucked our mind, in a hasty )ok aside, the play," lore lively is awoke, the east; the early ys. The t a single th rustled »d a wave larks, the ed loudly humming or sucked 121 the honey from the tender citron flowers^ Oh I indeed it was a morning of paradise ; a spell, a little time stolen from Elysium. And yet that kind of morn too. which Terra di Lavoro only knows. Alois seated himself on the poplar log again, looked around him and rubbed his eyes, but still could not for some time con- vince himself that it was indeed all a dream. " It is very strange," thought he, " for it appears to me that I certainly did see Emily, and that I was actually married to her; — however, strange as it may be," said he again, " here I am, and what is more, likely to be so, too, if I do not at once bestir myself." So saying, he roused himself effectually, drank his last drop of wine, put the bottle into his budget again, threw the stick, with the budget on the end of it, over his shoulder, and pulling his straw hat once more over his eyes, he trudged quickly onwards. Alois Farnese was the only son of a count of that name, who had for many years resided within a mile of the splendid city of Naples, in a large and beautifully situated white I 122 cottage, on the sides of which there clustered huge branches of the woodbine and the vine. Now Alois Farnese, strange to say, was to be married on this identical day to Rosaline Cordez, the daughter of an exceedingly wealthy, but untitled, country gentleman, who lived in a romantic cottage about three miles to the south-east of the place where he had slept on the previous night ; but being a very romantic young gentlemap, and, more- over, a great admirer of nature, he preferred walking to the house of his intended bride, which he afterwards did, whilst his father and friends went round by the high road in carriages. This morning was just the morning for Alois. Every thing in nature looked gay and beautiful, as it sparkled in the morning sun. On his left is seen the far-off, high, blue hills, the craggy rocks, the overhanging cliffs, and the tumbling cataracts of beautiful Campania, On his right, and far behind him, stretch the level fields, loaded with an abundant harvest, and surrounded with dark green vines and poplars, whose pointed, con- 123 clustered the vine. r, was to Rosaline eedingly ntleman,. »ut three ivhere he k being a d, more- )referred id bride, is father road in ning for ked gay morning ►ff, high, 'hanging beautiful behind with an rith dark ted, con- ical tops seemed to direct his attention to- wards heaven, as the abiding place of that Omnipotent Being who had so lavishly spread out so many fruits for the use of man. In front of him, and only just discernible, is seen a continuance of those high Alpine hills which, as it were, give the romance and grandeur to Italia. The sun now rises higher in the heavens; the sky is tinged with a deeper, a more violet like hue, whilst the grass, the herbs and the foliage seem to be painted with a richer green than heretofore ; and the little birds strain their throats to bursting with delight. On — on, Alois Far- nese wends his solitary way, with light and airy steps, charmed — more than charmed — with the lovely prospect around him ; and at the thoughts of the joyous welcome that he would receive at the end of his journey. At length, after walking for about an hour, or a little more, and when he had issued from a goodly sized copse of trees, he discerned his future home at a little distance before him ; and in the extacy of the moment he cried out, as he pointed onward with his finger, .*' i 124 « There's my home, my lovely Italian home." His heart was ready to burst with delight at the sight of such a sweet spot ; for although all the surrounding scenery was perfectly enchanting, yet his futlire home was like an oasis in the desert, a rose in a bed of violets, a beauteous fairy scene to which there was no eiqual. But we must describe it, hoping at the sapfie time that in attempting to do so, we may not diminish aught from its real excellence and beauty. It was surrounded by a fosse and a hedge, like a primitive fortress, as if the owner of the place, when building, had wished to shut out scenery that was not equal to his own, and also to screen the beautfes of his own sweet home from the vulgar gaze. This hedge was thickly planted with every possi- ble variety of flowers. There was the sweet- smelling woodbine, gracefully embracing its sides like a lovely nymph of the woods ; then there were the columbine and the jessamine nnnririo* flioil* l/turltr lioo/^o oo i^ in rf-wnfl^fA^ to the cool western breeze; then between these, and thickly planted together, there 125 m home/* elight at although perfectly ,8 like .an f violets, here was , hoping to do so, its real a hedge, )wner of ished to %\ to his ;s of his e. This ry possi- le sweet- acing its ds; then sssamine between T, there was the rose in its every stage of growth^ some hyacinths, and an innumerable number of violets, cowslips and lilies of the valley. On the top of the hedge, all round, and surmounting the whole, was a single row of the graceful lilac tree, whose innume- rable pink, or rather I should say, lilac flowers hung down like clusters of the vine, or like the ringlets of the woodland maid, and added much to the fragrance of the air, Alois now stepped up to the white-painted double iron gate, situated in the middle of the front hedge, and leading to which there was a wide rustic bridge, across the fosse. Alois opened one fold of the gate, stepped in, and once more proceeded with lightsome steps up the wide and gravelled avenue. Within was a fairy scene indeed, where every breeze was health and every breath produced tranquillity. Even the birds, perched on the branches of the trees in the lawn, low- ered their notes, and sang them in a more subdued but still sweeter strain. Elvsium itself could not have appeared more beautiful, more splendid — aye, though it were clothed l2 126 with fleecy clouds of gold and silver — though it were supported on pillars of sapphire shrouded with clear blue air. The front of this fairy scene was a small green lawn, studded with trees, and clothed with a i^hort grass, soft as velvet. A winding, gravelled avenue was cut directly through it to a space in fr^nt of the house, which served to give the whole a picturesque and beautiful appear- ance. Immediately beyond the gravelled space, in front of the cottage, for cottage it was, there was a beautiful garden, very small, so as to suit the general appearance of the scene, but yet elegantly' feid out, and evi- dently well kept. In the middle of this miniature garden there wasa Grecian summer house, surrounded with orange and citron trees, whose delightful fragrance perfumed the air, and seemed to hallow the ground on which it was built. Within the summer house, and on the centre of the floor, was placed a highly polished black walnut table ; on it was a handsome rosewood work-box, and an open book, out of which a young lady, who was seated at the table, sometimes read. 127 -though apphire front of I lawn, a ^hort ravelled a space to give appear- ravelled ttage It y small, I of the nd evi- of this summer I citron irfumed lund on summer or, was t table ; irk-box- ig lady, es read. but more generally directed her thoughts and attentions towards a beautiful marble font in the garden outside, whose splashing waters, as they sparkled in the sunbeams, lent a silvery lustre to her dark brown eyes. She would sometimes glance her mild, soft orbs at the book before her, but not to read, for it was plain that her thoughts had long since turned into another channel, down which they seemed to be sailing unconscious- ly, and yet with t;he greatest pleasure ; as her looks often sparkled, whilst her delicate taper fingers played with evident delight, as they rested gracefully on the walnut table before her. Let us recal to our minds one of the forms of the graces ; let us picture to our- selves some perfect one, whose every gesture, action and manner is grace itself; and then we shall see defined before our mind's eye, a perfectly beautiful being, like Rosaline Cor- dez, who, though deep in thought, now catches a glimpse of one whom she loves, as he winds up the avenue; and who now in consequence starts up, throws her book aside, and bounds away with the lightness and nim- * V 1 i 128 bleness of a fawn, to meet and to embrace him. And now Rosaline and Alois meet hard by the garden gate ; the one with affection and unfeigned admiration, the other as usual with many smiles and rosy blushes. "And why, why were you not here yesterday ?' — was the first query of the lovely girl, as she smiled and took his hand affectionately in her own : « Indeed I have half a mind not to speak to you at all,*' added she, tossing rp her head with an air of affected scorn ; but Alois, though he looked intently in her face, heeded not her question or her threat, for his mind dwelt upon his dream, and his thoughts upon "the bride of that dream"— Emily Canosa; — indeed, he thought so long and gazed so intently into Rosaline's face, that she at last patted him on the cheek, laughed heartily, and then skipped away. He stood a moment after she had departed, and then, rousing himself effectually, he followed her to the cottage, which was an exceedingly neat and elegant looking building, covered with lattice work and roses. Alois stepped at once into ''J embrace 3et hard affection as usual "And iay ?'— I, as she ately in d not to ising rp at Alois, • heeded is mind tts upon nosa; — azed so i at last leartily, moment rousing to the eat and 1 lattice ice into 129 the porch, and thence into the drawing- room, where all his friends, — not forgetting the little fat monk from the convent of Por- tici — eagerly awaited his arrival. " And why were you not here yesterday ?" was again the first question put to him by almost every one in the room, « or last night at all events ?" — so, to satisfy the minds of all present, he first recounted the reasons of his delay, and then told his dream, which we have already laid before the reader; and for the truth of which, (if he does not belifeve us) he may take the trouble to go to that small white cottage near Naples, and ask Alois himself, who is now a silvery haired old man, to tell it over again. But, to proceed: all within and around that sweet cottage was now confusion and tumultuous joy: confusion in consequence of the many preparations for the wedding and dinner at noon ; but tumultuous joy at the sight of the happiness of the young couple. There in front of the rest of the party, in the small but yet neatly arranged drawing-room, are seated Alois and Rosaline, side by side. Rosaline's hand is fast clasped in that of her 130 lover, who is now relating his dream, and the adventures of the past night. But whilst the company within doors arje thus engaged, the company without doors, consisting of the attendants of each of the guests who had arrived that morning, have occupied them- selves in washing and cleaning the several vehicles that were scattered about the yard in the rear of the building. Their conversation was in general lively, but sometimes broken by a whistle, a shout, or a hearty cheer per- haps by way of variety, and in order to take away any appearance of monotony from the scene. There was one very peculiar charac- ter amongst them, however, an English gen- tleman's servant, who had but lately come to Italy, and who, from ignorance of the lan- guage, was continually making blunders about every thing he saw, and indeed insult- ing many too, by his oddities, and very peculiar way of addressing himself. And though now in Italy, he still kept on his old and much worn En&rlish dress, which, if possible, rendered him yet more remarka- ble and eccentric. His coat was a much 131 and the lilst the :ed, the of the ho had [ them- several yard in ^rsation broken ler per- to take om the charac- sh gen- ;ome to he Ian- lunders insult- id very '. And on his hich, if ^marka- i much faded velveteen shooting jacket, without a single button on it, except an old horn one, which stuck out like an eye behind, that is in the small of his back, if small it was, which we have much reason to doubt; doubt we say, because, as the coat was ill made, it hung out at least a foot from him, and so prevented us from ascertaining the fact to a positive certainty. He wore also, light coloured knee cords, long white and dirty stockings, with a pair of coarse, unpolished shoes, which, from constant wear, had assumed a bright red hue. He had on also a black hat, with a very high crown, edges much worn and cracked; and a little well in the top of it, occasioned, not by the wear and tear of the article, but from the application of the kind friend^s fist with whom he conversed, and who, probably ima- gining that "black hat's" scull (a very ex- pressive name, which he had been given be- fore he was ten minutes in the yard), was rather thick, and hard of hearing, gave his hat. with tllP hl^aH in if. an f\nnnol^^^\ ...-_ _l- — .^ „,i v«-tti(3ii/xiaj L/UUCUj just to arouse the mental faculties of his stupid brain. « I say, Don Miguel, or Don Jack-ass ■ I J tJln I tuilLJ i l 132 more properly," shouted the aforesaid "black hat" to a dark Italian, not far from him, as he carried forward a couple of pails of water into the yard, but adding the latter appella- tion in a voice audible to no one but himself, "I say, my covey, what*s the name of your gal in the house there ? the young Setieura I m^an." " Signora, you blockhead," cried the man whom he addressed, in an angry voice, and at the same time giving the unfor- tunate hat another punch, which drove it completely down to his shoulders. His ridi- culous appearance, and the smothered voice of the unfortunate man, now excited the mirth of all the men in the yard, who at once came round him, to make some fun. They then pushed the hat further down upon him, until the leaf turned up all round, and thus gave him a greater oddity of appearance than ever. « Look at his mouth," shouted one with a broad grin upon his features: his mouth, from restrained passion and the crushing of the hat, had assumed a very peculiar curl, like the slit in the side of a fiddle. " Would'nt his mouth make a first-rate trap for catching 133 I "black him, as of water appella- himself, of your Sefieura I," cried Q angry le unfor- drove it His ridi- ed voice he mirth ice came ley then im, until lus gave lan ever. 3 with a ith, from f the hat, like the ild'nt his catching . flies?" roared a second, with desperate excite- ment — "or an excellent potatoe trap," yelled a third, with frantic extacy. At last, how- ever, " black hat," thinking that it was useless to be angry, changed his tune, and began ta shout and sing with the best of them; thus by his fun exciting a source of mirth amongst the whole group, which lasted till the party withindoors, when about to depart, summoned them all away. " Well, turnip-head," cried the man whom he had styled Don Miguel, in a laughing tone of voice, as he came for- ward, and stretched out his hand, "well, turnip- head, I see that you are a good fellow, after all, for you have acted the part of a wise and a sensible man. You can, I see, take ^ joke, as well as give one; you can learn to endure the laughter of a friend too, with patience and coolness: a power, a quality, a disposition, which, when seen in any man, well deserves to be both imitated and envied." With these words he shook his hand .vehemently, and they separated. The splendid and well served meals, dinner and tea, within doors, had passed M ,.$ L>/, 134 away agreeably and with all due regularity and decorum. The joyous laugh had echoed loudly through the hall — but now all is hushed and still: for the hour, the dreaded hour of j parting has arrived, when all — the near- '*f est and dearest, must bid adieu. Hark! — now the carriage rattles to the door — the steps are fjung down with a bang, the horses rear and plunge with their eagerness to be away; but at the dreaded sound, the white lawn handkerchief of the sorrowful bride is press- ed to her eyes, with a vain and fruitless attempt to dry up the scalding and bitter tears that will, in spite of all, flow fast down her now pale,butstill beautiful cheeks. " Fare- well I Farewell!" mutters Rosaline, again and again, as she grasps the hand of each of her friends in silence at the door. And now the sharp cracks of the coachmen's whips are heard, the horses once more rear and plunge J nearly straight up, at the maddening sound, then start off at a canter. Now the rumbling of the wheels is heard but faintly in the dis- tance : now all is still again — and they are gone. Sorrow at parting, first occupied the minds of Alois and his gentle bride: but in a 135 gularity 1 echoed 3 hushed hour of e near- Hark I— ;he steps ses rear e away; ite lawn is press- fruitless d bitter St down « Fare- , again each of ind now hips are plunge r sound, Limbling the dis- re gone, e minds lit in a 1 •■ I J little time after, as they both, hand in hand, entered their peaceful home, a thrill of joy; at sight of all its comforts, once again illumi- nated the inmost recesses of their souls, and for a time, at least, dispelled the gloom of "that last and sad farewell." * # » Many and many, are the happy years that Alois and Rosaline have enjoyed beneath the humble roof of that neat white cottage; but their latter years have been damped with sorrow, a sorrow which will go with them to thfiT graves. They have had many children, but they have lost them all, save one little girl, of about fourteen years of age. Care and vain regret have therefore long since caused the rose to fade from Rosaline's cheek, and the lily to flourish in its place. The sparkling eyes and the merry laugh are seen and heard no more; yet the same smile as it was v(»nt to be, sometimes plays around her mouth, and then at sucji times shows to those who knew her in her youth, that, though her ~~ "i^jj^vaiaiivc 15 ijiucn aicereci, both from time and suffering, at heart she is still the same as she used to be— loving and beloved. I 136 And now, kind reader, a word in yo„, ear before we part. You have now peZZ Z - 2 1 r t't' '"""''^^ '■eteetedlr; r woTk T"'' ^"^ '" *« compilation of nve!i:""^ ""' '" * *«»' "^ « tl,oro„gh «vest.gat.on into the papers and inanuscripts trnLZvT^ *"' white-headed Alois be on' I , • ' ^''' *"'''' ''•^ «««' wo"W be entirely inexcusable on our part But as work, a haste which was excited by a wish oih;ritr^7''''"^"'^-'>™^"/a'k2h hJ It ' 5"*" "»*'««' '^e "ineerely hope that you will peruse these pages with a favourable eye, and with a ze^^that wij enab^eustobidyoufarewell,-notasth:f part for a single day. And now, once more. Fare thee veO, and if for ever, Stmiar eyer/are am tettti E'en though imforgiying, never 'Gainst thAA oKaii ~.- 1 . , THE END. uii:^ 1 1 \«i ■-^^^*t:: I in your ear perused our tected many d trust you 5 the proper mpiJation of a thorough manuscripts aded Alois case, would rt« But as iults in this by a wish g a sketch ' sincerely ges with a that will >t as those those who nee more, si ♦ J, :>v- ^ ^ f'-tfff. \ :i»^'-.V '<>JI