.^«> IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) A 1.0 I.I us Vi 12.2 la Si 111 1.8 11.25 y||l.4 ill 1.6 1 j Photographic Sciences Coiporation ■y 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series, CIHM/ICMH Collection de microfiches. j^- Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques Technical and Bibliographic Notes/Notes techniques et bibliographiques The Institute has attempted to obtain the best original copy available for filming. Features of this copy which may be bibliographically unique, which may alter any of the images in the reproduction, or which may significantly change the usual method of filming, are checked below. m D D D D n D Coloured covers/ Couverture de couleur I I Covers damaged/ Couverture endommag^e Covers restored and/or laminated/ Couverture restaurde et/ou pellicul6e Cover title missing/ Le titre de couverture manque I I Coloured maps/ Cartes g^ographiques en jouleur Coloured ink (i.e. other than blue or black)/ Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que bleue ou noire) I I Coloured plates and/or illustrations/ Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur Bound with other material/ Reli6 avec d'autres documents C^ Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion y\\ along interior margin/ La reliure serr^e peut causer de I'ombre ou de la distortion le long de la marge int6rieure Blank leaves added during restoration may appear within the text. Whenever possible, these have been omitted from filming/ II se peut que certaines pages blanches ajoutdes lors d'une restauration apparaissent dans le texte, mais, lorsque cela dtait possible, ces pages n'ont pas 6t6 film6es. Additional comments:/ Commentaires suppldmentaires; L'Institut a microfilm^ le meilleur exemplaire qu'il lui a 6t6 possible de se procurer. Les details de cet exemplaire qui sont peut-dtre uniques du point de vue bibliographique, qui peuvent modifier une image reproduite, ou qui peuvent exiger une modification dans la m6thode normale de filmage sont indiquds ci-dessous. I — I Coloured pages/ D This item is filmed at the reduction ratio checked below/ Ce document est film6 au taux de reduction indiqud ci-dessous. 10X 14X 18X 22X Pages de couleur Pages damaged/ Pages endommag^es Pages restored and/oi Pages restaurdes et/ou pelliculdes Pages discoloured, stained or foxe( Pages d6color6es, tachetdes ou piqudes Pages detached/ Pages d6tach6es Showthrough/ Transparence Quality of prir Quality indgale de I'impression Includes supplementary materii Comprend du matdriel suppl^mentaire Only edition available/ Seule Edition disponible I — I Pages damaged/ I — I Pages restored and/or laminated/ I — I Pages discoloured, stained or foxed/ I I Pages detached/ I I Showthrough/ I I Quality of print varies/ I I includes supplementary material/ I — I Only edition available/ Pages wholly or partially obscured by errata slips, tissues, etc., have been refilmed to ensure the best possible image/ Les pages totalement ou partiellement obscurcies par un feuillet d'errata, une pelure, etc., ont 6t6 filmdes d nouveau de fapon d obtenir la meilleure image possible. 26X 30X 12X 16X 20X M 24X 28X 32X ■."■'■W«i^)t»"" lire details les du modifier ler une filmage The copy filmed here has been reproduced thanlts to the generosity of : Library of Congress ^ .v Photoduplication Service The images appearing here are the best quality possible considering the condition and legibility of the original copy and in keeping with the filming contract specifications. ^ L'exemplaire filmd fut reproduit grdce d la g6n6rositd de: Library of Congress Photoduplication Service Les images suivantes ont 6X6 reproduites avec le plus grand soin, compte tenu de la condition et de la nettetd de l'exemplaire film6, et en conformity avec les conditions du contrat de filmage. 6es Original copies in printed paper covers are filmed beginning with the front cover and ending on the last page with a printed or illustrated impres- sion, or the back cover when appropriate. All other original copies are filmed beginning on the first page with a printed or illustrated impres- sion, and ending on the last page with a printed or illustrated impression. The last recorded frame on each microfiche shall contain the symbol — ^> (meaning "CON- TINUED"), or the symbol y (meaning "END"), whichever applies. Les exemplaires originaux dont la couverture en papier est imprim^e sont filmds en commenpant par le premier plat et en terminant soit par la dernidre page qui comporte une empreinte d'impression ou d'illustration, soit par le second plat, selon le cas. Tous les autres exemplaires originaux sont film6s en commen^ant par la premidre page qui comporte une empreinte d'impression ou d'illustration et en terminant par la dernidre page qui comporte une telle empreinte. Un des symboles suivants apparaitra sur la dernidre image de cheque microfiche, selon le cas: le symbole --► signifie "A SUIVRE", le symbole V signifie "FIN". re Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at different reduction ratios. Those too large to be entirely included in one exposure are filmed beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to right and top to bottom, as many frames as required. The following diagrams illustrate the method: Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent dtre film6s d des taux de reduction diff6rents. Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre reproduit en un seul clich6, il est film6 d partir de Tangle supdrieur gauche, de gauche d droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images ndcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants iliustrent la mdthode. y errata )d to nt ne pelure, ipon d 1 2 3 32X 1 2 3 4 5 6 _ ^ jBaniwff i ^W i 'ww i w" ^TVSti = Woi p. ' THE LILY OF 6/5'>'' SAN MINIATO. r. Mrs. 0/ V. HAMILTOIiPr AUTHOR OF ' Woven of Many Threads," " Crown from the Spear," Etc., Etc. *&i NEW YORK: G. "jy. pARLETON &■ Co., J^UBLISHEF^S. u THE NITED STATE S LIFE INSURANCE COMPANY, n THB OITT OF ISW YORK, Aei, »09, »e3 BROA.D1VA.Y. OaOAMIZED 18SO. JAMES BUELU President. ASSETS, SURPLUS, $4,846,032.64 $800,000.00 Bvery approvd /'orm of Tblito' issued on most favorable terms. ALL ENDOWMENT POLICIES AND APPROVED CLAIMS MATURIMO IN 1878 w." b. DISCOUNTED « -» on fKnaSSTATION. HENRY W. BALDWIN, ■apt. HlddU Dapartmant. PvricB : Prbxbl Puildinq, cor. )Vall and ^road ^t&, NEW YORK. * 4 PATE S MPANY, }RK, I » ■ , ■ ■ President. 14,846,032.64 $800,000.00 V iitued on most APPROVED CLAIMS 78 ED «' ^* LDWIN, t«at. LL AND ^ROAD ^T&, J" ^ A CHARMING NEW NOVEL. The Lily of San Miniato. Author of a Stors of Jfloxt-ntt. Bl Mbb. 0. V. HAMILTON, 'Woven of Many Threada," "A Crotvn f*om The Spear," me., Etc, Mrs. Hamilton's Btorics are of the most delightful character. An artist herself, she locates many of her stories in Italy, and Hnds opportimities to show familiarity with the laud of song and art, of which she mokes incidental use to heighten the interest of her tales. Among numerous reviews from the press, of her stories, we quote a few as follows :— •' Mni. H«mllton bolonu" to the clHKa of clever authorease* that exists in EiiBlBnd to a large extent."— /"/(((a. Item. !■' I' !? \*^^^ ""'"'' !'■•'<»•'»*, »n:>«(niNbI^^ k 7 1 . ' ^ ■ » 1 I 1 I f ■ ■ ■,.■:. 1, (i h , ■" , f.i > ! i- Infelice :.--/: ■ The An 1 i ' The Fa] i TheDti ' 1 1 li ' - . Fioidilii The Ma Signora Lisaan( TheSta The Ho i 1 Lisa's E k i . f ■I i. ,>«-«»«-«-a*. CONTENTS. aiWilUtt>M«kSil^aMMi CHAPTER I. Infelice 9 CHAPTER IL The Angel of the Church S8 CHAPTER in. The Palazzo Altimonti 89 CHAPTER rV. The Dnke of Caetellara S3 CHAPTER V. Fioidilisa 70 CHAPTER VI. The Marriage in the Duomo 86 CHAPTER VIL Signora Pia. 101 CHAPTER YIIL Lisa and the DaohesB 117 CHAPTER IX. The Statue of Anrora. 188 CHAPTER 3L The Home in the Via Di San Gallo , .147 CHAPTER XL Lisa's Romance 164 " ***»■, ▼iii CONTENTS. CHAPTER XII. rial AnEvening at the Opera. 180 CHAPTER XIII. ITemeais 106 CHAPTER XIV, A Discovery 212 CHAPTER XV. A Mystery 228 CHAPTER XVI. Count Valdimer'B Disappointment 243 CHAPTER XVII. Enrico Fails as a Mediator 250 CHAPTER XVm. The Duel 275 CHAPTER XIX. Happy at last 292 CHAPTER XX. Hugo's Despair 809 CHAPTER XXI. Hugo Confesses 824 CHAPTER XXIL TheStetneof Hebe 840 CHAPTER XXTTI. "ACruoeSalns" 869 CHAPTER 2XIV. Eniico's Reward 874 LI the; wen Cas< gaix fare the or < vehi T ally rial 180 [. 196 212 228 [. 243 [I. 259 a. 275 L. 292 809 I. 824 a. 840 II. 869 :v. 374 Z^^' >* \y ^f,37W X^ THB • LILY OF SAN MINIATO A STORY OF FLORENCE. CHAPTER I. INFELIOB. |NE intensely hot afternoon in the latter part of July, when nearly all the wealthy and fashionable of Florence had left the city for the lakes or mountains, and most of the idle and poor were resting their languid limbs under the trees of the Cascine, Boboli, or some other of the many beautiful gai-dens on the banks of the Amo, the pnblic thorough- fares seemed almost deserted, those only remaining in the streets who were engaged in some sort of traffic, or on duty as guards and drivers of the numerous vehicles which were drawn well up in the shade. The gaminsy indigenous to all large cities, and usu- ally as impervious to heat as salamanders, were for once 10 JNFELIOE. subdued into silence and repose, lying face downward nnder the massive walls that protect the west side of the Piazza della Siguoria from the ardent rays of the sun ; and even the 4og8, oppressed by the stifling atmosphere, lay panting with extended tongues and drowsy eyes in the coolest places, if any one place could be cooler than another, on that day of our Lord, July 6, 1823. Under the open arcade that surrounds the Loggia di Lanzi, seemingly unmindful of the discomfort that affected every living thing around him, sat a strange- looking figure, huddled together in the most ungainly fasliion imaginable ; his knees, drawn nearly up to his chin, supported a small slab of soft, light-colored stone, upon which he was skilfully copying in alto relievo the Judith and Holofernes of Donatello. While he worked with eager, feverish haste, his head, covered with thick, dark hair, was bent so closely to his knees that one could scarce catch a glimpse of his face ; only when, from time to time, he looked up to study his model, his thin, sallow features were clearly outlined against the dark arches behind him. In his cramped, awkward posture there was neither grace nor beauty ; but his delicate, sad face was full of feeling and repressed passion. His brow, over which the heavy hair fell when his head was bent above his work, was broad and intelligent ; his eyes, deep-set. large a iiig ex] dumb Btrcngt and ch His for on nianipi he usee One group, Hilent iigure liaiids, quick, tlie lu vision The alread' • lands driftin and ov ually shakin stretcli evenin vigor. INFELIGE. %t ig face downward vX the west side of ardent rays of the 3d by the stifling iided tongues and if any one place it day of our Lord, unds the Loggia di le discomfort that lilm, sat a strange- the most ungainly wn nearly up to his soft, light-colored ly copying in alto :>f Donatello. rish haste, his head, lent so closely to his li a glimpse of his ne, he looked up to eatures were clearly ihind him. re there was neither sad face was full of ;is brow, over which [ was bent above his his eyes, deep-set, large and dark, had somcthitig of the wistful, appeal- ing expression in them that one often sees in those of dumb animals, blended with a eort of intensity and strength which the firm and fine outline of his mouth and chin fully sustained. His long, thin fingers, singularly slender and white for one evidently so low in the scale of humanity, manipulated with ease and dexterity the tiny chisels he used to perfect his exquisite work. ' One seeing him there, crouched before the noble group, so utterly unmindful of all around him, so silent and absorbed, might have thought him also a iiiTure of stone, save for the rapid movement of his liands, the occasional uplifting of his head, and the quick, impatient movement with which he threw back tlie heavy locks that sometimes came between his \i8ion and the object of his careful study. The pitiless sun was sinking lower and lower, and already the cooling breeze, th^ in these southern lands usually springs to life at the close of day, was drifting in refreshing waves among the open arches and over the bent head of the patient artist, as grad- ually men and animals crept out from the shadows, shaking off the slumber from their heavy lids, and stretching their stiffened limbs gratefully in the fresh evening air which brought them renewed life and vigor. 12 INFELIGB. I!'' " What ! what I Hugo ! still working hero all through tho day, in spite of this heat, that fairly broils one ? " and a short, stont priest, with untidy garments and oily face, who crept along in the shade of the arches, stopped a moment to look over the artist's shoulder. " Yes, Father Ilario, I am still here, and here I have been since early morning ; for one must work, if one would live in this hard world," returned Hugo, with- out raising his head. " And it seems that your task is nearly completed." " Nearly, thank the Blessed Virgin." " And well done, too, and I count myself a judge," said Father Ilario, mopping down his face with his coarse blue handkerchief, as he leaned over to inspect the work more closely. " I trust it is well done," returned Hugo, humbly ; " or else it would be better not to be done at all, for no one will buy copies from me unless they are exact ; and for the most perfect thing I can do, the dealers only pay me one-quarter of what they would pay others for poorer work. So you see, Father Ilario, what it is to be unfortunate. The more God has afflicted you, the more your fellow-men oppress you." " Nay, nay, say not so, my friend ; that is rank in- justice to your Creator," returned Father Ilario, in a smooth, conciliating voice. " Now, see what you have in compensation for your deformity — a talent, a real talent, who an "Th have o over hi " Thi «Iti fiiif^crs "Ah look at fasting, winter, thirety, rest. I melt in and if 1 rings at gloomy may ha the priv Now, y< can eat "Ah inclinat pathetic "But we will ! ng hero all through fairly broils one ? " I tidy garments and hade of the arches, artist's shoulder, re, and here I have must work, if one turned Hugo, with- nearly completed." :in.» lit myself a judge," his face with his ned over to inspect led Hugo, humbly ; be done at all, for less they are exact ; can do, the dealers it they would pay see, Father Ilario, Che more God has men oppress you." i ; that is rank in- Father Ilario, in a , see what yon have ty — a talent, a real INFELICE. 19 talent, by which you can earn yonr bread, while others who are tall and straight have to go hungry or beg." " Thank God I I have never yet begged, though I have often gone hungry," said Hugo, still bending over his work. " Then, why not be thankful for what you have ? " " It is so little," and a hot tear dropped on the busy fingers of the artist. " Ah ! there it is again — ^}'our ingratitude. Now, look at me. Look at my life of constant self-denial, fasting, prayers at midnight, heat in summer, cold in winter. If I am hungry, I must not eat. If I am thii-sty, I must not drink. If I am weary, I must not rest. If I am. cold, I must bear it ; and if I am like to molt in the sun, I must go forth to mass or vespere ; and if I am never so sleepy when the bell for prayei-s rings at midnight, I must arise and go into the cold, gloomy chapel, no matter how pleasant my dreams may have been. Think of that I — one has not even the privilege of dreaming without being interrupted. Now, you, although you think yonrself unfortunate, you can eat all you can get when you are inclined to eat." " Ah ! but if you cannot get food, of what use is the inclination and the liberty ? " asked Hugo, raising his pathetic eyes to the fat face of the priest. " But you can get it if you are industrious. However, we will say no more of that. I was only trying to show , 14 INFELIGE. you how iingiatofiil you aro, and that othero beside yourself have their troubles and ujortifications of tho flesh. Now, this afternoon, I desired to read my breviary under the shadow of tho trees on San Mini- ato, where there was quite a refreshing breeze ; but, instead of resting there comfortably, I had to plod down that long, weary hill to say vespei-s for Brother Anibrogio, who has gone into the country to see a sick man; and then I have to prepare to leave for Eoine to-morrow right early. Ah ! there is the bell of San Michele, so I must hasten. Thank the Virgin, it is near, for I am more weary with my walking in this heat than you aro with your working. Addio^ and say fifty aves to-night, and the Blessed Mother will give you patience to bear your lot uncomplainingly." With this pious advice, the old priest hurried away as fast as his short, fat limbs would take him, wiping his Btreaming face as he went. Scarcely had Father Ilario disappeared around a corner, when a number of small boys, who had been invisible for hours, sprang up suddenly all over the great square, as lively and wicked as though such dis- comforts as heat and weariness were never known. Looking about for some new object on which to vent their long-repressed mischief, they discovered tho unfortunate Hugo diligently bent over his work, and, swooping down upon him like birds of pi-ey from all four cor ei-8ccuf ing his \ tiiey sIk: luinchbc For 8( (lifferenl marble head an one bold a bit of its mark ing, fell leaving face, he with liv pressed while wi liurling deformit crouchin. deed, a reaching liis body Poor, \ Ike a hu jyes, and ' -'TTii.-Qig^in— Tf|-i— t/nfj" " ■": tT II 1 1 III I '"yi '|l I Tfl"*P" i^"" inyratii^pnii ti INFELWES. 15 that othens besido jrtificatioiis of the sired to read my Tces on San Mini- liiiig breeze ; but, y, I had to plod Bspei-s for Brother country to sec a spare to leave for I there is the boll Thank the Virgin, th my walking in king. Addio, and eesed Mother will uncomplainingly." ist hurried away as ,ke him, wiping his ippeared around a )y8, who had been lenly all over the as though such dis- 3 never known, bject on which to they discovered the over bis work, and, da of prey from all (inr corners of the piazza, they began a series of small ]iei-8ccution8— poking at him with sharp sticks, twitch- ing his garments, and slyly pulling his long hair, while they shouted in every note of the gamut, " Here is the hunchback ! here is the hunchback ! " For some time the unhappy creature remained in- ilTerent to their taunts and gibes. As silent as the marble statue before him, he worked on with bowed load and steady, dexterous touch, until at last, when one bolder and more fiendish than the others, flinging a bit of decayed vegetable at his head, whicih, missing its mark, struck the pillar beliind him, and rebound- ing, fell into the very midst of his beautiful design, leaving an ugly stain on the carefully wrought sur- face, he could endure it no longer ; but, springing up with livid face, quivering lips, and flashing eyes, he tressed his work close to his breast with one hand, while with the other ho dashed aside the little imps, mrling them violently right and left in spite of his deformity, which, now that he had risen from his crouching position, was plainly visible. Ho was, in- deed, a hunchback ; his head bowed, his slioulders reaching to his eai-s, his limbs unnaturally long, and lis body unnaturally short. Poor, unfortunate, tormented being ! There he stood ike a hunted stag at bay, with quivering nostrils, wild jyes, and trembling limbs, anxiously trying to shield -■ <&!mi^i^^f^S'^i>^-<^iiaS>i^siei*i.--^- a 16 INFELICS. his troftsnro from those sacrilpgions hands, and him- Bclf from tholr nulo and boistcro>i« attack. At length, almost oxhanstod from his effort to pro- tect his work from injury, rather than his own person, and seeing that his persccutoi-s had not in the least almndoiKjd their intention of routing him entirely, ho li)oalingly for assistance, while ho criod in tones of mingled indignation and entreaty: " Mother of God I have yon no pity, that you will allow these littlo demons to torment mo so? I only am trying to live— to keep the wretched life confided to my care. I ask but to remain hero and work in peace, and that even is denied mo. Children, chil- dren ! " and stretching out his disengaged hand towards them, ho turned his white, weary face, from which all the anger had gone, full upon them. " Wliy will you torment me so? I love you all, and I would not injure you. 1 am not bad, nor given to quarrel. I am only a poor, unfortunate being, tired and faint from hunger, and I cannot buy bread until I finish this copy ; there- fore, T entreat you to allow me to complete it." But his touching appeal fell on deaf ears ; and seo- ing that it was useless to try to continue his work, he gathered up his small tools and turned away from the spot with a disheartened sigh, followed by the hooting, shouting rabble. Aa he left the piazza behind him and entered a I mil Bi«,rj j; ! Wfc.i '»'-'i°-'<««'^'^=^'^>r''<>ai»g^y?^ 5 » jafr X%*tt"i^ INFELICE. IT 1 hands, and him- Utack. I \m effort to j)ro- tn his own person, i not in the least \^ him entirely, ho lice, while ho criod entreaty : pity, that yon will nt mo so ? I only tchcd life confided hero and work in lO. Children, chil- ^agei^-«nWll>-d*fM^= ^/^firtVT,?^ ■■ =y^'-^Siffit^X^S^4^^gfiiSiS&t-' TNFUrWM, 10 loir mirth, iw thoy set, wliitlicr ho ran artrs to shut out their oy pur»iK!smm>!g!mmfm^s9m)»^mn&em>imsm^^^^'s INFELICE. 9t have no fpith in your ave detected vou dis- ly duty, I should send lie Virgin, pardon me ity, and I will never fh I starve. At San )8 me there. If I die, liave on earth, in the jes, and the blue sky I implore you 1 1 spare id the officer, evident- appeal. "I h.r e no )ublic peace must be 18 quickly as you can, again, yon will be put idnct yourself peace- ;ood fortune that you ther's." Vf^ T, with a wild, hunted ands in a sort of re- ' into the shadow of to the Amo. As he [ knew it would come rough their cruelty, I Oh, my unfortunate temper ! why did I not control it a little longer, though it did burn within mo like the flames of inferno? Now there is nothing left for me but to cool my angry, hot heart in the river. I have always known that everything would end there for mo some day. The river ! the river ! I have heard its cool, clear ripple, as it sounds against the bridges hour after hour, when I have been hungry and cold and in pain, and it seemed to call to me gently and kindly : * Come to me, come to me.' But while 1 had my art, while I could come into the city and copy, and worship these beautiful marble gods, I would not listen to it. I said : ' No, no, I will come to thee only when there is no other ref- uge for me.' Now there is no other refuge, and I must go. It is only a moment of dread— one short, quick plunge, and all will be over, and this poor, mis- shapen, aching body will be at rest forever. Why is it, I wonder, that when I am the only one to suffer because of my misfortunes, every one treats me as though I inflicted some torment upon them. Perhaps I do, with the sight of my hideous form. In this love- ly country, where all is grace and symmetry, the distorted goUo is looked upon as an impersonation of God's anger— a creature set apart by his Creator for the scorn and loathing of all mankind. And yet I am innocent of any wrong to others. I have a nice sense of justice in my soul. I love the fortunate beings ss INFELIGB. who have neither affection nor pity for me. I can forgive those who make me suffer. I am grateful for one word of kindness, one glance that is not full of abhorrence. I woi-ship all that is beautiful, and I would rather live, if I could ; but there is no place for me on earth ; the city I worship is closed to me ; I can see its beauties no more, and the river calls lue — calls me, as it always has in my hours of anguish." Suddenly the deep tone of a bell struck on his ear, and looking up in his hurried flight, he saw the door of the cliurch of Santo Spirito standing open before him. " I will enter," he said, " and offer np one prayer to the Mother of God lor the repose of my poor soul, before I usher it into eternity." ^ ^v Slipping through the black sliadows of the great pillars, he crept into the almost empty church, and falling on his knees before one of tlie altars, he tried to turn his troubled thoughts to heaven ; but, instead of divine meniy claiming his attention, the memory of earthly injustice overpowered him, and the wrongs he had just experienced oppressed him so heavily, that he covered his face with his hands and buret into deep, heart-bi'eaking sobs. ICE. THE ANOEL OF THE CHUROH. 28 nor pity for me. I can le suffer. I am grateful one glance that is not ship all that is beautiful, I could; but there is no ! city I worship is closed es no more, and the river ways has in my hours of ■ a bell struck on his ear, d flight, he saw the door of standing open before him. id offer up one prayer to I repose of my poor soul, y." --^ ' • - ick shadows of the great Imost empty church, and tne of tlie altars, he tried 8 to heaven ; but, instead of attention, the memory of sd him, and the wrongs he Bed him so heavily, that he mds and burat into deep, CHAPTER II. THE ANGEL OF THE CHTJEOH. [HAT is the matter, my poor friend, and why do you weep so « " The voice fell on Hugo's ear like a strain of sweet, sad music, and looking up, he saw a figure before him so lovely that his fii-st thought was of saints and angels. But the human sympathy of the face, and the kind touch of a soft hand on his poor deformed shoulder, told him that it was no celestial visitant — only a lovely and compas- sionate woman who looked down on him from her serene height. . She was young— not over twenty— fair and graceful, and her rich robes denoted wealth and rank, as well as her jewelled fingers, and tlie heavy gold clasps that bound the prayer-book she held in her hand. But, although so young and beautiful, and evidently a child of fortune, there was an expression of deep sorrow on her face, and her voice sounded like the sob of a stringed instrument touched by a rude hand. " Your trouble must be great, poor mourner," she continued, as the hunchback, staggering to his feet, turned his mournful, tear-stained eyes upon her. m- 9V THE ANOEL OF THE CHURCH. « It 18 indeed great, Signora," and he leaned heavily against the railing, as though he would faint from weakness. « And you are ill— your pallor shows it." « I am weary and hungry, that is all. But now I am hetter ; your kind words have cured me." « Tell me the cause of your trouble, and perhaps I can aid you ; at least, if you are suffering from want, I can relieve you, for I have more than I need. Now tell mo all." «Ahl gentle lady, it would weary you to hear all the story of my wrongs and sufferings. Humanity is 80 cruel to those who are afflicted as I am ! " « I pray you, tell me, for I would fain find another soul as miserable as mine is to pour some balm upon, if it is possible, iu the hope that it may ease a little my own pain." Encouraged by these gentle words, Hugo told the story of his persecution and disappointment to the lovely stranger, who listened attentively, sighing heav- ily from time to time. « Holy mother! can it be possible that there can bo such gross injustice here, in our lovely city of Flor- ence ? " "Aye, my lady, what I have told you is true, and how I am to live now I know not, for my only means of subsistence was in copying the different antiques, ff cnuBcn. and he leaned heavily he would faint from p shows it." ; is all. But now I am ircd me." trouble, and perhaps I ■e suffering from want, )re than I need. Now weary you to hear all ifferings. Humanity is id as I am ! " ?ould fain find another pour some balm upon, ; it may ease a little my words, Hugo told the disappointment to the tentively, sighing heav- »ssible that there can bo lur lovely city of Flor- e told you is true, and not, for my only means the different antiques, TUt! ANOEL OF TUB CtlURCn. 25 which a dealer in the Ponte Vecchiu boiii,'ht from iiic— at a vei-y low price, it is true, but still it has kept 1110 from starvation. If 1 am not allowed to come any more into the city, I cannot continue my for- mer employment, as I have nothing to serve mo as models. " Poor unfortunate ! Your lot is indeed a cruel one —afflicted by God, and wronged and despised by your foUow-creatures." " Padre Ilario says I have much to be tliankf ul for ; that I have my talent, which was given me by the Creator in compensation for my deformity ; but if I cannot use it, of what use is it to me ? " " Have you no parents ? " " Alas ! no, Signora. My mother died when I was a child, and my father I can scarce remember." " Were you born here, in the city that refuses to phelter yon ? " ' . ?- ^ " 1 know not where I was born ; but I think it was here, for my earliest recollections are of a pretty cot- I tai,'e on the banks of the Arno, surrounded by trees IuikI flowers, and filled with pictures and b(x)ks ; and Icf my mother, who was very young and lovely, and jwlio must have been a famous singer, for I have never Iforgotten her voice. She often sat for hours at her harp, land sang more like an angel than a human being; and |1 have never heard any music like it, not even the ves- S6. THE ANGEL OF TUE ClWIiClI. pers in the churches, where I often go, so that I may be a little nearer her." « And what else can you remember \ " asked the lady, as she wiped away a furtive tear. " Nut much of that time, for I must have been very young then ; but later, when I was larj^er and could run around the garden, I have a distinct re.nen.branco of her coming to mo and biddu.g me to enter the house, telling me that my father had come and she wished me to remain in my chan.ber until he went away Tuor mother 1 child though 1 was, 1 understood that she did not wish the author of my being to see his poor afflicted offspring." " Then yon never saw your father 1 " « Yes 1 saw him at that time. Burning with curios- ity to see what a father was like, I crept from my hiding-place and went unobserved into the garden again. There I saw, sitting on the loggia of our l.ttlc cQttage, a tall, handsome man, dressed in an ofhcers uniform. He held my mother's hand in h.s, and she was weeping bitterly. I could not endure to see her trouble, and, moved by a sudden impulse of tenderness, I rushed from my concealment and threw myself o,> her neck, e.nbracing her and kissing away her tears. She put her arms about n.e, for, hideous though I was, I was her child, and her heart was true to the mate.^ nal instinet; and, leaning her face on my deformed si a e: fi n ti h tl li( It w nt ui sli ai m al IK hfl Ka he a pe E CJJUIiCII. .ften go, so that I may ncmbor 1 " asked the ,0 tear. [ must have been very was larger and could I distinct renienibrauco Idhig nie to enter the er had come and she ihamber nntil he went ugh 1 was, 1 understood lor of my being to see ather?" 5. Burning with curios- , like, I crept from my ;erved into the garden I the loggia of our little , dressed in an officer's sr's hand in his, and she i nut endure to see her jn impulse of tenderness, nt and threw myself on kissing away her tears. )r, hideous though I was, t was true to the mater- ir face on my deformed THE ANOEL OF THE CUURCII. 27 shoulder, we wept together. I renieuibcr nil her love and tenderness, but nut better than I remenibor the exclamation of surprise and horror with which my father greeted my sudden appearance. From that moment I hated him, and if he is in the world, I some- times think that he must suffer dreadful remorse for his cruelty to me and my mother." " Then you know not whether ho be living ? " " No, Signora, for not long after that ho deserted the woman who had lost all for him, and left her and her unfortunate child to the cold charity of the world. It broke my mother's heart. She died in my arms when I was eight years old, without telling mo tho name or rank of her betrayer, and I have never known until this day ; but sometimes I am confident that I shall meet him face to face, a living witness of his sin and deception." "^^ _:^ "And who cared for yon after the death of your mother?" "No one but the God of the helpless, if being allowed to live was being cared for. My mother did not leave enough to bury her, for before her death she had quitted her pretty cottage and gone into a squalid garret near thePonte Vecchio, where she breatlied out her unhappy life in want and teare. So I was thrown a waif on the stream of life, to float or sink as it hap- pened — the butt of scorn and contempt, jeered at and S8 TIW ANUKL OF THIS OIWRUU. mocked, and buffeted by all, and pitied by none, not oven those whom God hath bidden to bo merciful to his afflicted ones. During the day I sought the refuge of tho churches to be freed from the persecution of tljo children, who followed mo relentlessly; and at jiight I slept wherever I could find a place to lay my weary, suffering body. To satisfy tho cravings of hunger, I ate tho crumbs that fell from the tables of the rich, the scraps that were thrown mo by the hand of charity, iridifferent whether it were a dog or a human being that devoured their scanty offerings. " Passing, as I did, most of my time in the churches, I began to study, almost umionsciously, the works of art that surrounded me, and dimly, at fii-st, I felt the dawning of a new life within mo. Some one gave me a broken knife, and with the aid of that I cut out of soft stone a little figure, a copy of one of the saints around the high altar of San Marco. When I first saw the likeness to the original, and knew that I possessed the power of imitation, I thought I should die of joy. I wept, I kissed the feet of the Madonna in the most fervent gratitude, and from that moment I entered upon another life ; I was never as wretched and lonely as 1 had been before. " One day. Padre Ilario, a monk from San Miniato, saw me crouched at tho foot of the altar in San Am- brogio, carving steadily at a little figure of the Holy OUURUIt. THE ANOEL OF THE CIIURCn. 29 I pitiotl by none, not en to 1)0 merciful to y I 80uj;ht the refuge n the peraecution of relentlessly ; and at ind a place to lay my tisfy the cravings of bU from the tables of rown mo by the hand it were a dog or a • scanty offerings. T time in the churches, sciously, the works of inly, at fu-st, I felt the Q. Some one gave me d of that I cut out of r of one of the saints irco. When I first saw know that I possessed lit I should die of joy. Madonna in the most lat moment I entered as wretched and lonely mk from San Miniato, I the altar in San Am- tle figure of the lEoly Mothor. My industry, yonth, and pitiful deformity ftttracted hisjittontion, and ho cxninined my work witli great interest, and praised it without stint ; this en- couraged mo to show liiin several others which I had concealed about my person. It is true, they were criido mid imperfect, yet they posaossed some merit, and the good Father saw it, and was delighted at what ho con- sidered a pre(!ocious talent. " * Have yon ever tried to soil thorn ? ' ho asked. " I replied that I never had, not dreaming that it was possible to receive money for what had been but a pastime to me. " * Go to-morrow on the Ponte Vecchio, and sit you doNvn where travellei-s pass most ; be modest and well behaved, not too shy, nor too eager, in displaying your work, and I will wager you that before night you will dispose of one or more of your figures. Set no price upon them yourself ; leave it to the generosity of the i)uyer, and yon will be better paid than you think. And if you succeed, forget not to go to the Holy Mother and give her thanks for your good fortune.' "The next morning, at sunrise, I crept out from under a vender's cart — my only bed — and going to the nearest fountain, I washed my hands and face as cleanly as I could, and wiped them on a cabbage-leaf thrown me by a good-natured market-woman ; dusted and cleaned ray rags as much ae possible, and with my little figures ^^■■^' 10 TIIR ANGRL OF TJW UllUltOJI. neatly miij,'C(l hy my sido, I Boiitotl niysolf in a con- BpicuouB plaro niid awiiited my first vutstomor. Hut altisl my liopc« wore hooii dorttroyod. I woh not allowed to roiimin iiiiywliero in pence. Several niiw- chiovous ehildrcii giUhorod around me, and with fthoutfl and joors routed mo and compelled ino to move on. Durinj,' the day 1 located myHolf in fifty different places. Patient, resolved, and hopeful, I was not over- come by the crnel treatment I received, and l)cforo sunset I had succeeded in ('isposing of two of my little f,„,„.oft_-„no to a priest ici :en sohll, and the other to a •kind-faced lady for two H/L I had never before hold a liri in my hand, and 1 was richer than a king npon his throno, and happier than any boy in Florence that night. Nor did I forget to return thanks to the Madon- na. I went to the nearest chm-ch, and, falling on my knees, I p( (i^nd out my very soul in thankfulness." "And did you continue to sell your work?" asked the lady, deeply interested in Hugo's narrative. " Yes, for a time, until there was not a siwt where I was not known and greeted with the cry of ' £eco il gohbo, ecco il gobbo,' which was the signal for an attack, when I was invariably driven away, sometimes with blows, sometimes with my wares utterly ruined. How- ever, I managed to exist, until one day a dealer in brie- dbrao, on the Ponte Vecchio, noticing the little figures and seeming struck with their accuracy, told me to .III po bCC on ? ciiunoji. otl niysolf ill a con- firftt iiUrttoinor. Hut Htroyod. 1 wort not pence. Several inin- d ine, and with fthoutfl lied ino to move on. lelf in ftfty different )j)ef id, I was not over- rceeivod, and before iiig of two of my little ohll, and the other to a had never before hold a r than a king upon his boy in Florence that n thanks to the Madon- ch, and, falling on my il in thankfidness." 3II your work ? " asked uffo's narrative, ivas not a s\wt where ith the cry of ' £eco il he signal for an attack, awav, sometimes with 8 ntterly mined. How- no dav a dealer in brie- oticing the little figures i* accuracy, told me to TJIR ANORt OF TUK CHURCH. 81 liriiii,' them to him and ho would dispose of them for iiu! to better lulvaiitage. Since then ho has bought nil 1 call iimko ; I)iit B(»iiie are so difliciilt and take mo so long to ciirvi', and I get so little for them, that I am often hungry. Tlio alto relievo that was destroyed to- (liiy I have worked weeks upon, and had about com- [)lc!tcd it ; but now it is gone, and I shall have to gi> liiiiigry, for (iod only knows when I can do another, seeing I can come into the city no more." " How much were you to have received for the .hiditii?" " Ton »^'w/t, Signora — a fortune to mo." The lady drew a heavily fringed puree from her pocket, through tho meshes of which shone a number of gold pieces, and opening it, she counted out fifteen ncAidi, and put thorn in tho hand of the hunchback, saying: "Take these; here are ten seudi for your mined work, and five acudi from mo as a gift. It will last you some timo, and when it is gone come to me, and I will see how I can help you again." " O Signora ! you are too good," and Hugo dropped on his knees, and pressed hor robe to his lips. " Rise, ray friend. Do not kneel to me ; I am a sinner like you. Kneel only to God and the Blessed Virgin. Now, tell me, when you leave the city, where will yon go?" Pi'; .-Mmms^tco city — 1 you through him." siguora. Oh, if you ratitudo that fills my id not to mo ; for if 1 , I am your dobtor in- •etiirned Hugo, shiver- rno hoforo me. I had »cd to live; and I was 1 door of this church I hurried my pooreoul deeds of kindncsB have y to live and bo patient romombor always tho to the Virgin to bless le angel of tho church. lee, with a sorrow that of money can case. inpathy could comfort THE ANOBL OF THE ClIVIlCll. 33 me; .lion, perhapfl, I should not ho so wrctrhod. Ihit the day is drawing to a cloeo, and I must tinish my jiiuycrs before I leave this sacTcd spot. Taktj this ring, and when you need any nssistancio, send it by a trusty mesHongor, and I will aid you in every way thiit lioH within my power." Drawing a slciidor gold baud from her white fin- ger, she laid it in Hugo's palm as she continued : " I am Coutessa Elena Altimouti, and I live in my father's palaco on tho Lung' Arno. Now, farewell, and may you bo happy aiul prosperous in tho future." Hugo leaned against the altar railing and watched her as she passed out of sight into a side chapel, whither sho went to pray ; and when tho last gleam of her palo blue drapery disappeared ho siglied heavily, and a tear rolled slowly down his cheek. " God, the Vir- gin, and all the holy saints ble*» lior 1 " ho exclaimed fervently ; then pressing tho ring to his lips over and over again, he hid it with the gold in his bosom, and hobbled away with a lighter heart than that which beat in his breast when ho entered tho church. The day was far advanced, and the sun was already low in the west, when he paused half-way up the steep ascent of San Miniato, and looked back on the city below him, with its spires and domes and towers painted with dusky gold, from tho last rays of the departing day 2* -■^^^I'^si^mii^^^Miit^^m'M^sik^^^ssm.ii^m^mm- - 34 THE ANGEL OF THE CHURCH. Tho Arno flowed peacefully ; the deep, distant mur- mur of liu.nanity fell on his ear like the revcrheration of a mighty organ, and as his eyes wandered away toward tho purple hills of Fiesole, they softened again to teai-8, and ho said in a sad, broken voice: « Tlie world is beautiful, the city is beautiful, and large enough for all. Yes, there is even room for me, poor unfortunate though I am, and I want but a small place to work, and live and be at peace. I could be happy there. Yes, happy, for my Creator has planted the seeds of happiness in my heart, in spite of ray de- formed body, if these miserable children, whom I never harmed, did not drive me away because I am more wretched than they. I wonder why God made life so easy for some and so hard for others 1 Why did the accident of my birth and my deformity place me in abject want and suffering, while others, with meaner souls and less appreciation of the true and beautiful, live in luxury and refinement? « 1 am tired and hungry, and I must go to my hut among the tombs, and make my supper off the coarsest fare, provided me by the bounty of a stranger, while the rich eat and drink, and make merry-and yet 1 do not hate them now. A little while ago I did; my soul was full of dark passions at my wrongs and suffer- ings ; but that angel, the Angel of the Church, dis- pelled the demon of despair, and now I love even I CHURCH. le deep, diatant mur- ike the reverberation jyes wandered away !, they softened again icn voice : city is beantifnl, and is even room for me, id I want bnt a small it peace, I conld be y Creator has planted irt, in spite of ray de- le children, whom I e away becanse I am 3nder why God made ird for others 1 "Why d my deformity place ng, while others, with ttion of the true and nement ? I mnst go to my but supper off the coarsest ty of a stranger, while e merry— and yet 1 do while ago I did; my , my wrongs and suffer- el of the Church, dis- and now I love even THE ANOEL OF THE CHURCH. 35 those who harmed me. Yes, I love all humanity, and if I had the power given me to curse this city that icfus=e8 me shelter and food and the privilege of toil- ing within its walls, I would not. I wish it no harm. I only ask to be allowed to live and die in peace." Turning to the golden light of day that still lingered in the west, he drew forth the money that he had hidden witli the ring, and looking furtively around to see that no one was near him, he sat down on a stone by the wayside, and counted it over and over again, pressing each piece to his lips before he returned it to his bosom. At last, when he came to the ring, he examined it closely, and saw engraven on it the initials E. A., and underneath them a coronet, and the legend A oruce aalus. " She has worn it ! " he said, kissing it reverently, "and it is sacred to me. Her memory will be a con- stant blessing. It will still my angry passions ; it will make me calm and patient, and inspire me to greater perfection in my art. I have not a bad heart — God knows I have not, and I would be gentle and peace- able, if I was not provoked into frenzy by those little demons yonder. O Florence ! O my beloved city ! and all thy beauties that I have worshipped, shall I see thee no more ? Shall I enter thy gates no more ? Must I remain without, like a soul banished from paradise? Father in heaven, this is hard I O mother ! O sainted 4"b Si^^^smi^^is^i&^^is^SSi^^ai^^^^^-S^^S^M^0^^ni-- jt>*a^- 30 THE ANGEL OF THE OnURGH. mother! intercede with the Virgin to sorton their hearts,, so that I may return again." Wiping away the tears which bedewed his face plen- tifully, and with another long, lingering look into the plain below, now one golden river of light from the last level beams of day, he turned his weary steps again toward the solemn and majestic pile of San Miniato al Monte, that rose before him nearly to heaven. Approaching the Church of San Salvador, he stopped suddenly, overcome with a nameless fear, for an object prone npon the ground, in the shadow of a cypress, attracted his attention, and it bore the mysterious and startling outline of a human form, still and rigid, and destitute of the flexible curves of sleep or weariness. Drawing nearer, his limbs trembling with terror, Hugo knelt beside the prostrate form, and in the gath- ering darkness discerned that it was a woman with a babe in her arms. The mother was unconscions, perhaps already dead ; but the child was sleeping peacefully, as though it re- posed upon a bed of down, with its warm red mouth pressed against a breast as cold and white as marble. " Angel of God 1 " exclaimed the hunchback, kneel- ing reverently, and fixing his eyes on the infant with a sort of greedy admiration, "how lovely 1 how exquisitely lovely I Wliat gmce ! what innocence I cnuRGH. ■giti to scrton their adewed his face plen- gering look into the er of light fi*ora the mod his weary stops uajestic pile of San )fore him nearly to I Salvador, he stopped 388 fear, for an object shadow of a cypress, B the mysterious and n, still and rigid, and sleep or weariness, ■embling with terror, orm, and in the gath- was a woman with a erhapa already dead ; :ully, as thongh it re- its warm red mouth tid white as marble. ,he hunchback, kneel- es on the infant with " how lovely 1 how ;e ! what innocence t Kt-^^wt^sHrti-T—ateaiftfaMaao jr^t^ Tlia ANGEL OF TUB CHUIiCH. 37 What softly rounded features! what matchless out- lines 1 Oh! if I might have this cherub for a model, I need go no more to the city to copy from the lifeless stone." Then bending lower, he peered anxiously into the woman's face, and laid his hand over her heart to dis- cover whether it still beat; but there was no responsive throb that he could detect. " She is dead," he said at length in a hollow whisper, " and no one will ever know if I take the child. I won- der if it will be wrong ? I wonder if she, the Angel of the Church, would call it a sin? No! no! it cannot be; the mother is dead, and will never know if I take the child. She is some poor outcast. The society of La Misericordia will care for her body, and the babe, if I do not take it, will be sent to the foundling hospital. So I may as well have it. I will be kind to it, and I will not let it suffer for food while my goat yields me onecnp of milk; the lovely little angol shall have it all, even if I go h.ngry myself. It is but a little thing, and I can feed it, and take care of it by depriving my- self, and that 1 do not mind. I am used to self-denial and hunger ; and I am so lonely, now that I can go no more to the city ; I shall find the days so long and dreary, and this little creature will fill my heart, and make my gloomy hovel bright and cheerful. None will know where to look for it, even if they wish to f • ' Liri>- A,-«is«i^a**i^»*«*6tf^ft«t:*iast^^«s*' 38 THE ANGEL OF THE CHURCH. I; claim it. I can hide it in my Init, and model the moBt angelic things fiom it while it sleeps — and I fancy it does sleep most of the time. See how it smiles in its dreams, and reaches out its little hands 1 It is asking for love and care — my love and my care, and it shall have both. I will give my life to it, my worthless life that lias so far been only a cnrse to me. To-day God ha« sent me two angels. Yes, I know he sent the Angel of the Church, and perhaps this sweet child will be a blessing to me also. I will take it and leave the result to God. I do not mean to do wrong. My heart craves sometliing to live for, and this child seems as helpless and abandoned as I am. How can 1 leave it here on its dead mother's breast ? No I 1 must take it, and 1 will." Looking stealthily around to see that no one was approaching, he snatched the child from the rigid embrace of the mother, and fled with it into the dark- ness and shadows of night, trembling with the guilty coiiscionsness of having robbed the dead. tl V P li V k V a •V a 6 E t CHURCH. and model the most ep8 — and I fancy it how it smiles in its liands ! It is asking ly care, and it shall it, my worthless life me. To-day God know he sent the ps this sweet child ill take it and leave n to do wrong. My for, and this child s I am. How can 1 )rea8t ? No ! 1 must ee that no one was lild from the rigid ?ith it into the dark- ling with the guilty » dead. THE PALAZZO ALTIMONTl. 8» CHAPTER HI. THE PALAZZO ALTIMONTl. BT was an hour after midday, and the Contessa Elena Altimonti was receiving her most inti- mate friends in a magnificent apartment of her father's palace. For the past six months she had been in retirement in the Convent of the Sacred Heart, and had bnt just returned again to the world. It had been a subject of considerable discussion in the fashionable society of Florence, when the lovely vonn<» countess declared her intention of quitting the pomps and vanities of the wicked world, to immure hei-self for several months within the walls of the con- vent where she had been educated. But it was well known among her friends that the charming contessa was somewhat eccentric, and, at times, piously inclined ; and when her father confessor hinted to them that she was weary of the folly and excitement of her gay life, and desired a time of silent communion with her own soul apart from the world, and that it was only natural she should return again to the calm and sacred retreat that had sheltered her innocent young girlhood, all speculation ceased. ilit^Mi^^^MaieiiStd^s^^i^tiSiisg^s^Mt^ Ji'*" 40 THE PALAZZO ALTIMONTI. Wlien six months had passed, and she returned again to her world of gaudy glitter and hollow pleas- ures, all her friends were impressed by the profound sadness of her face, as well as her weary, listless air. For some reason, the petted child of fashion had lost her interest in her former amusements, and, declared often that she preferred the solemn silence of the clois- ter to the gayest ball or carnival, and the holy services of the church to the most brilliant opera that had ever been performed. On this day of which we write, she was to receive for the first time since her return, dressed in her usual rich and tasteful fashion, which was due, on this occa- sion, more to the efforts of her maid than to any wish of her own heart. She was beautiful, and she could not help knowing it, for she had heard it repeated over and over by the gay young nobles who frequented her father's palace to bask for a blissful hour in her bright smiles, which she seemed to bestow on all alike. As she sat at the window of the elegant salon, one elbow resting on a small table before her, and her chin pressed in her open palm, her eyes were fixed on the distant sky, instead of the garden below, filled with flowers, and musical with the tinkling of fountaine, whose waters fell over beds of lilies resting on moss and fairy-like ferns ; and her face had the absorbed, l.^ i-ig^n n Ml 'Vf .1fr~V "^yr IMONTI. 3, and she returned ter and hollow pleaa- jsed by the profound er weary, listless air. d of fashion had lost cnicnts, and declared in silence of the clois- and the holy services t opera that had ever te, she was to receive , dressed in her usual vas due, on this occa- laid than to any wish .utiful, and she could ad heard it repeated lobles who frequented ' a blissful hour in med to bestow on all he elegant salon, one Pore her, and her chin yes were fixed on the en below, filled with inkling of fountaine, lilies resting on moss ce had the absorbed, THE PALAZZO ALTIMONTL 41 absent expression of one whose thoughts wore far away from the scenes that surrounded her. She should have been joyous and light-hearted, living as she did in the sunshine of prosperity. Young, beautiful, and beloved, what more had the world to give her? And yet her sad face and abstracted manner told plainly that a secret grief was hidden in the heart that beat so wearily under her rich robes. « Ah, sweet cousin 1 how happy I am to see yoiv again in your old place," cried a young, fresh vc»ice ; and a handsome youth entered the room, who seized the white hands of the Countess, and pressed them again and again to his lips. • ' « And I am glad to see you, dear Enrico ! " returned the Countess, rising, with a smile that betrayed some pleasure, to receive her visitor. « How could you be so cruel, Elena, as to withdraw the light of your presence from us all this while, leaving us to pine in darkness while we waited for your return?" " " To try your devotion and affection," returned the lady, at the same time asking her cousin to take a chair near her, "for you know we prize the sunlight more after many cloudy days, and I wished to see if it would be so with my friends; if, instead of forgetting me during ray brief absence from them, they would b© longing for a sight of me again." f ■»»ia^,a8^»ii»egf;ar it yon ftro about to mil." !B8 in aBtonishnient. Duko of Castellura go, wearied enongli jnna ; and thoy say hand, and that tho ujwn his propofli- I flcarcc tliink snch ont consnlting mo," irico thonghtf nlly ; iractor. Even you, listraction, have no once decided on any I. "Alasl 1 know ve him." ago with the young jre seemed to be no both rich and noble, oved him." 77/A' t'ALAZXO ALTIHONTI. M " I did, cousin," replied the Coiintcrts in a low voice, turning away her head io conceal her droadfid pallor. " And I entreated my father on my knees to allow mo to become his wife, but he refused his consent coldly and sternly, in spite of my tears antl prayers." " I'oor Elena I " said Enrico tenderly. " It almost broke your heart, I well know, for you have never since been the same." " It was, indeed a cruel blow, for I loved him as I never shall lovo another. And when I heard of hia death a few months ago, I felt that I could not sur- vive him; but I am still living, for the young and healthy cannot die, even though their hearts aro crushed and withered." "Elena, did you ever Buspoct that he was unfairly dealt with 1 " " Hush ! for God's sake, cousin ; you do not mean — no ! you cannot mean that hia life was sacrificed to my father's ambition." " No, cousin, not to your father's ambition, but to the vengeance of tho Duke of Castellara, who coidd not forgive him for being your accepted lover. He lingered in Florence so long after tho refusal of hia suit, that, perhaps, the Duke feared you might flee with him to England, in spite of your father's commands." " But you remember the manner of his death ? " " Certainly j he was attacked by brigands in a pass . ■if^s^ji;.iJU**iw*=.*fi?i4W(*i<.is.' ■K-^ ja t a Mi ai ^v^'^r'f.-^V ' 40 TUBS PALAZZO ALT f MO NTT. of tho A|»oiiniiit.'H, uiul wiw Hhctt y '■'" '*' ^'" **"' f*"' ''' '* worthless when you suffer; but 1 can do nothinf^, save to kneel at your dear feet and offer you my heart's unselfish de- votion, my friendship, my brotherly love. You must bear your burden as you best can, trusting to mo to lighten it all that lies within my power. " Thank you, my dear friend— my brother, if you will. Now that I know I have one true heart to lean upon, I will try and live, if not for myself, for others. Only yesterday, I thought it would be possible for mo to still find some happiness on earth, for 1 saw another more wretched than myself, whose sorrow I softened and whose teai-s 1 dried." " Sweet cousin, it may be your mission on earth to make others happier through your angelic ministra- tion ; but tell me, pray, who was the happy recipient of your kindness." " One who needed it, Enrico. At Ave Maria I went to Santo Spirito to pray, and just as I was about to ;^55irS*S«»^S(M*SW'rf»SW'--,««Waf^ii>«" ' I I it u i 'A Sal 48 IJJE PALAZZO ALTIUONTT. kneel, I heard such lieartrending sobs near mu, that I turned to see who was in such bitter trouble; and there, prone before the altar, I saw a poor, defoi-nied creature, weeping and praying pitifully. 1 spoke to him gently, and he raised a sorrow-stricken face to mine— such a pained, worn face as 1 never saw before ; it has haunted me ever since with its patient, resigned expression— like that of a poor animal that has re- ceived only blows and cruelty, and expects nothing else." " Ah ! be was happy, cousin, to receive your sweet sympathy. Tell me, pray, what was the cause of his grief, for all that interests you finds a responsive echo in my own heart." " He told me such a tale of wrong and injustice that my very soul burned with indignation. Think of it, Enrico, he is frightfully deformed, utterly friendless and poor, abandoned by his father, who betrayed and deserted his mother, and left her to die in poverty of a broken heart. He is an artist, and only asks to be allowed to work in peace at his humble occupation, which is copying in stone the statues in the squares and churches ; but the children about the streets tor- ment him so, that he cannot remain long enough in one place to complete his work. Sometimes, he con- fesses that his temper gets the better of him, and that he resents the indignities heaped upon him. Yester- day an officer came upon him just as he was about to ~ ' i7aij=fi^>'**«eff?.5*w!ift*a*?.' MONTI. >b3 near mu, that I (ittcr trouble ; and ,v a poor, defoi'uied ifuUy. 1 spoke to >w-8tricken face to I never saw before ; its patient, resigned iniuial that has re- spects nothing else." receive your sweet as the cause of his is a responsive echo g and injustice that ition. Think of it, I, utterly friendless ', who betrayed and » die in poverty of a nd only asks to be humble occupation, ,tues in the squares 30ut the streets tor- ain loup- enough in Sometimes, he con- er of hira, and that upon hira. Yester- ; as he was about to .«^,4iAa».^MriMb^iieVHr'<- v:r*'i^if -'■iHi'^ THE PALAZZO ALTIMONTI. 49 punish a child who had tormented hiui beyond all oiulurance, and instead of chastising the real offenders, this minion of the government threatened the poor liunchback with prison, if he did not leave the city at once, thereby dei)riving the suffering creature from earning his daily bread in the only way that he can. Such injustice filled me with contempt for those who have authority over the weak and helpless. Is there no way, cousin, in our good city, where God has given us so much, that the poor and defenceless can be pro- tected against such cruel oppression ? " " You ask me a question difficult to answer, Elena. The poor are powerless in the hands of the rich. We cannot change the statn of society ; only such angels as yourself can, with oaintly charity, soften a little their hard lot." - "Ah! if I could but devote myself to such a work in peace. If my father would permit me to remain as 1 am, I think I might be good and patient ; but, Enrico, 1 feel that there ''re slumbering fires in mo tliat may burst forth at any moment. If I am com- pelled to marry the Duke of CastcUara, I am lost; my nature — my very soul, rebels against it, and if I am sacrificed to liis ambition and pride, it will not be the soul of Elena Altimonti that will inhabit my wretched body, but a cruel demon that will avenge my ruined life on all mankind." 3 • itS^^a^tejti^^iii^iiiliaiie.m'&miii-'^ihsAvtei^UiSiaiim^ Ji. ft 50 THE PALAZZO ALTIMONTI. "Hash! hush! dear cousin, do not ei)eak snch dreadful words!" cried Enrico, springing to her side, and taking her cold hands in his, for she had fallen back in her chair, pale and exhausted from her strong emotion. n « in' "They may seem terrible, but they are truthtuU Bhe returned, looking at him steadily with gloomy eyes "It is the protest of my better nature agaiust Buch a sacrilege ; and you, my cousin, can bear wltnc.. in the futurp, that on this day I was truthful, charita- ble and even patient and resigned under my sorrow ; that I would have lived a good life if I could have done so; that I would have been gentle, humble, and holy, if iny father had not forced me to marry a demon." " But, cousin, he has not done so yet ; rumor maj be false." _ « No it is not. I have a premonition of my tate. i was separated from the man I loved, to be given to Castellara, because he is richer and more powerfu than the other-because he is Ferdinand's favorite and a duke." « But vou can resist your father's wishes ; you can rebel against his authority. There is no law to compel you to obedience." « Alas ! Enrico, I know too well how useless it is to struggle against his will 1 I am doomed to become the ■i ■s\ '-•»rrtti{i-*jfH>r-t^'"^' •**"♦' ;,afei^ifc^H»-» m a fe* i' »* >l iTirnM WaBgg-"' -.^jtSag=,»-S.fe?£U^;i4«l^^ ■•'-' 'IMONTI. THE PALAZZO ALTIMONTl. 51 do not ei)eak sncli pringiMg to her side, is, for she had falleu isted from her strong they are truthful!" iteadily with gloomy better nature against )U8in, can bear witness was truthful, charita- led under my sorrow ; . life if I could have u gentle, luimble, and :)rced me to marry a le so yet; rumor maj nonition of my fate. 1 [loved, to be given to jr and more powerful erdinand's favorite and .ther's wishes ; you can tere is no law to compel well how useless it is to n doomed to become the Avife of a man T abhor. 1 have opened my heart to you, but it cannot in any way change niy lot. 1 may as well submit to the inevitable without a murmur. You only have listened to the moanings of my heart, and you will keep my secret. Wlien you see me in the gay world apparently happy and contented, you will know then that my soul is but a chaos of sin and misery, and you will pity me and remember this hour. Hark ! there are carriage-wheels in the court ; visitors are arriving, and they must not find the Countess Elena sad and distraite, or they will think that I mourn for my dead lover— and that is not allowed in this false world." Enrico srave his hand to his cousin, his eves full of r" orrow and his heart heavy with her trouble. " Y on ;now you can always count on my fidelity and love,'' he said, in a broken voice ; and then, with a tender pressure of her cold fingei-s, he turned away and left her alone, as proud and calm as though no mighty wave of emotion had ever swept over her soul. The day before, at that very hour, she had stood in the Church of Santo Spirito, and Hugo had called her an angel ; but now the haughty face and mien bore little resemblance to the divinely compassionate figure that had bent over him then. Standing in stately dignity in the centre of the ele- gant salon, her beautiful form in its satin drapery ■^;^>^^^j^i^^^i£mii6^^:'aKi&Xiit-- ' Hi THE DUKE OF CA8TELLABA. reflected from a dozen mirrors, gold and glitter around her, the air heavy with the perfume of flowers, strains of distant music mingled with rippling of the fountains soothing her soul with its tender melody, she calmly awaited the new-comer, whoso footsteps she heard with- out, as two liveried footmen, with great ceremony, threw open the door and announced his highness, the Duke of Castellara. <'ff CHAPTER IV. THE DUKE OF CASTELLARA. plE Duke of Castellara had passed by some years the meridian of life, although he did not appear an old man, being of a fine, tall figure, smooth, florid complexion, and quick, vigorous movements. His well-shaped head was covered with thick, closely-cut gray hair, and a heavy moustache, well silvered, partially concealed his mouth, which was coarse, cruel, and sensual in expression, while his heavy jaw and muscular neck denoted in no small degree the anima;l in his nature, which was fully confirmed by the tigerish glitter of his small, steel-colored eyes. Although the favorite of the Grand Duke Ferdinand ,,a«SB*»ift*t«aSM;****«i j«»JS!UI9tf>«ai«»3~V!^>V* * FELLABA. M and glitter aronnd me of flowers, strains >pling of the fountains r melody, she calmly •tsteps she heard with- great ceremony, threw highness, the Duke of THE DUKE OP CA8TELLARA. 53 IV. ELLABA. had passed by some life, although he did n, being of a fine, tall n, and quick, vigorous lead was covered with I heavy moustache, well is mouth, which was ression, while his heavy in no small degree the fully confirmed by the [-colored eyes, jrand Duke Ferdinand was called a handsome man by the fair sex, he was not exactly pleasant to look upon, and generally inspired more awe and admiration than affection. lIis reputa- tion as a diplomat, oflicer, and gentleman was good ; but his private character was execrable, in spite of the care which he took to conceal his dark doings. There was scarce ever a duel fought, a young wife dishonored, a maiden betrayed, that his highness, the Duke of Castel- lara, was not at the bottom of "it ; and it was well known in Florence that he never tolerated a rival, either hus- band or lover. Being utterly unscrupulous and pos- sessed of enormous wealth, he found means of disposing of those who came between him and his desires in a man- ner that, tliough it did not place a public stigma upon him, was talked over and well undci-stood . . private. Many a noble lady of Florence, in spite of his evil character, had coveted his title, wealth, jewels, and palaces; but he had reached his fiftieth year without conferring them upon any one, tliough it was said that Ferdinand had selected more than one excellent j?ar<* for him, which he had firmly declined, preferring his freedom to the most honorable alliance that could be bestowed upon him. A few years before the opening of our story, the young Countess Elena Altimonti had flashed suddenly upon the fashionable world of Florence, fresh from the lombre shades of the convent where her childhood and ... .ft|l3^^^ I' I''- ■ 64 THR DUKE OF CA8TELLARA. girlhood liftd been passed, owing to the death of her mother sliortly after her birth. Her surpassing beauty, her grace, her wit, had placed her at onco on the very snniinit of popularity, and, before she had been in society one season, she was de- clared the reigning belle, the adorable Contessa, the Bwoetest flower, the brightest gem that had ever adorned the fair city of the VaV (TArno. Amonjr her most devoted suitors, and the first in the field, was the Duke of Castellara ; but, sti-ango to say, the young beauty was not at all dazzled either by his wealth, title, or person, and treated him with less consideration than she did her very humblest lover. Before her first season was over, a young English- man, Lord Challonner, appeared on the fashionable horizon, who bade fair to rival the Duke in the favor of the queen of beauty. He was young, handsome, brave, generous, and rich, though his wealth could not compare with the Castellara estate ; however, he was not a suitor to be despised by the most aspiring maiden. =' ^ Kumor did not couple the young lord's name par- ticularly with that of the Contessa Elena Altimonti, for all masculine Florence was at her feet, and it was difficult to fix upon any one who received marked favor. Suddenly the pulse of the gay world beat more quickly with the news that the Duke of Castel- m iJ«!ilS*- -•-»--■!. -. i»«*t5* <«)%-«)K»)^Si««S««Tf«4«>> TELLARA. ; to the death of her ;e, her wit, had placed t of popularity, and, 16 season, she was de- ►dorablo Contessa, the that had ever adorned tors, and the first in Uara ; but, sti-ango to all dazzled either by treated him with less !ry luimblest lover, rer, a young English- l on the fashionable the Duke in the favor ras young, handsome, li his wealth could not tate ; however, he was ►y the most aspiring )ung lord's name par- jssa Elena Altimonti, at her feet, and it was who received marked the gay world beat the Duke of Castel- TUE DUKE OF GA8TELLABA. 55 lara had offered himself to the proud beauty, and had been refused. "Can yott imagine such a thing?" cried more than one intriguing mamma. "They say she has actually refused Castellara. What presumption! a chit of a girl, with little besides her title, to refuse the favorite of Ferdinand— a duke— and a rental of more than half a million scudi— why, she must bo insane 1 " Tlie young nobles gathered apart and discussed it, secretly glad that at last their insolent rival had re- ceived a check to his ambitious hopes. "However, it is no use to congratiilate ourselves," said a young marchese to Enrico Altimonti. "Your cousin will linish % marrying him. Castellara is invincible and irrepressible; he never sets his mind on anything but what he succeeds in getting it. Why, it is even said that he had the impudence to bid against the Grand Duke's equerry at the sale of a hoi-se, though he well knew his royal master wanted it. Oh, his confi- dence is something sublime. I would wager my roan mare against your new landeau that he will ultimately win her consent." "Time will show," replied Enrico, turning away with flushed cheeks and angry eyes. Not long after the startling rumor of the Duke's re- fusal had died out, another of hardly less interest set the tongues of all the gossips wagging. Lord Challon- M*!,f*sS«**«SSt>*M«w»rt«»** „»» -»»-i.3e8SS»s»»*i»=ii<&saSl*lBESSWl*.i#*»»^ •i*'\^ 56 THB DUKE OF VASTELLABA. ner liad offered hirriBolf to the Contcssa. "Whether he liad been accepted by her, no one kii' w ; but it was generally uiiderstood that her father, Count Altunonti, had received liis proposition with scorn, and refused him his daughter's hand in the most decided manner, forbidding him the entree to his palace, and oven going so far as to prohibit all intercouree between them in society. "IIo is reserving her for Castellara," said the worldly wise. " The old Count is clever ; he will not allow his daughter to wed a lord when she may be- come a duchess." But, as the lovely Contessa appeared in society as gay and beautiful as ever, and as she seemed to avoid Lord Challoner, the idea gained ground that her affections had not been in the least involved, and that she too shared her father's ambitious schemes, and had only refused the Duke out of girlish caprice, being sure that he would return again a willing captive to her charms. One day the news reached Florence that Lord Chal- lonner had been shot by brigands in one of the Apen- nine passes, during a short excursion from Florence in the company of a party of English people. This sudden and tragic taking off of one who had been a favorite in the best society of the city caused a great deal of excited discussion. Why had he alone 'ELLARA. TIIE DUKE OF 0A8TELLAHA. 67 iitcssa. "Whether he no kii'nv ; but it was ler, Count Altiinonti, I scorn, and refused lOBt decided manner, lis palace, and oven intercoui'se between IJasteUara," said the s clever ; he will not d when she may be- peared in society as as she seemed to lined ground that her ,st involved, and that ous schemes, and had girlish caprice, being a willing captive to •ence that Lord Chal- in one of the Apen- ion from Florence in li people. r off of one who had ty of the city caused Why had he alone been singled out for the murderer's crnel blow, and the otliers allowed to escape without even being held for a ransom ? There was a mystery about it all that no one could solve ; but gradually people ceased to talk or tliink of it, for a new 8ul)ject claimed their attention. The Duke of Castellara had been sent by Ferdinand on a diplomatic mission to Vienna, and the Contessa Elena had gone into retirement during his absence. So for six months these impo<:tant pei-sonages dropped out of their little world, and were almost as seldom spoken of as though they had never existed. - Howf vr", the wheel of time slowly and surely revolved, and brought the Duke and the Contessa Elena again to the snrface of society. The fair re- cluse came forth from her retirement lovelier than over, l)e(!auso of the gentle melancholy that invested her with a new charm, adding a little mystery to what before was as clear and bright as day. Scarce had her serene beauty beamed again on the happy hearts of her adorere, when the Duke of Castellara appeared in their midst, as gay and alert, as confident and insolent as ever, and the lesser stars drew aside with diminished lustre, convinced that their ascendancy was over, and their waning light quenched in his superior brilliancy. When the Duke of Castellara was so unexpectedly announced to the Contessa Elena, after the departure ,.-.<.-.jMasa>i»»gifefe!>».sj»a^aae-»S^I»ate*«-i. .^.^,sft4wiK^s*iM!«ijEp*#*ifc= 60 TUK DUKIS OF CASTBLLARA. cfttinot dinpoBO of ii*^ hand without my coiiBcnt, and tluit I ret'iiso, ns 1 did tlion— docidodly, irrovocubly." " Puidoii iiio, ContcBsa, for renewing ft Bubjoct ho diBugrecuhlo to you. I hoped ore tlii« your views hud changed, and that you woukl bo disposed to obey your father and make nie the happiest of uiortala; but I perceive you are as little inelined to listen to uio now as you were then." » As little, and oven less, your highnoss," returned Elena coldly. " But the reason that decided you to refuse mo then does not now exist." " I do not understand," and the ContCBsa raised her head proudly. " Pray do not speak in riddles ; I hate all that is obscure." « And I also." " Then explain your remark." «' I said the reason does not exist." « What reason ? " " I will repeat the remark ; the reason that decided you to refuse my oflfcr of a year ago." " This fencing with your words is not agreeable to me," replied the Contessa, rising suddenly and turning her back upon her tormentor, while she looked stead- ily from the window. " Ah 1 now, my sweet lady, do not affect to misunder- stand me," said the Duke, following her. " Pray be lb jut tho rciiHon docs exist 1 " interrupted the Con- tfssa, with a sudden burst of emotion, " and it is my aversion to you— 1 do not love you. I repeat what I said a your ago." " A year ago, it is true, you did not love mo, because you loved another." Elei\a turned deathly pale, but made no reply. " A year ago," continued tho Duke in his icy tones, " you loved Lord Challoinier." "llow daro you make such an assertion? What authority have you for it ?" " Your retirement from tho world after his death, your pale cheek, your sad air." The Contessa shivered slightly and looked resolutely away from the demon before her. " Do not avert your lovely eyes. 1 see that I have guessed the truth. You loved him and you mourn for him still." "Yes, you are right. I loved him and I mourn for him still," cried Elena, pressing her hand over her lips to keep back her sobs. - fttjIWitMK'' '^"^'^^"^ !^*^emtarvtm'^^^^^ -<;A.«AiiO^«*fei;.e -*-^%r.atft>=**S'^ ^.-'Sfwf ^*ft-^' -^ -J^,i>^.. M» H t i,. it v-t 62 THE DUKE OF CASTELLARA. " At last, then, we have arrived at the true reason for your refusal of my hand." " Having loved him, could 1 marry his murderer, think you 1 " and tlio Contessa turned her flashing eyes, from which the tears had dried, full upon the Duke, as though :0;c would read his very soul. For a moment his insolent gaze fell beneath her searching look ; then, smiling cruelly and sarcastically, he said : " Pray do not speik in riddles. I hate all that is obscure." " My words, Duke, are not as obscure as the manner of his death, or the mystery surrounding it." " I was not aware that there was any mystery. 1 have understood that he was killed by brigands— a common enough occurrence, I think, in this country." "On the contrary, a most unheard-of thing in such a place. They must have been hired to do it by some one who desired his death." " And if any one did such a deed for love of yon, could not you forgive him, and return such a passion ? " " My God ! what a monstrous thought. Do not tor- ture my ears with such words. I fear you. I hate yon, and I pray you to leave my presence ! " cried Elena, beside herself at this horrible question. " Calm yourself, Contessa, I am but jesting ; and rest assured I had nothing whatever to do with the death of your lover," said the Duke, soothingly. ' , < i*-a!»iSS3»S**t.f-'- rAi^as'H-'iftf^efes&ii-.iiSe- ELLARA. xt the true reason for narry his murderer, turned her flashing dried, full upon the is very soul, ze fell beneath her illy and sarcastically, riddles. I hate all jscure as the manner mding it." was any mystery. 1 lied by brigands — a Ilk, in this country." ird-of thing in such a ed to do it by some leed for love of yon, urn such a passion ? " honght. . Do not tor- I fear you. I hate ny presence ! " cried 3le question, im but jesting; and tever to do with the ke, soothingly. ,, . TEE DUKE OF CASTELLABA. 63 « I implore you to leave me," continued Elena, now pale and weeping, " or you will compel me to retire from your presence." " As you will," and the Duke, bowing low, turned toward the door. "For the present, I will leav> you, since you wish it ; but I pray that you will endeavor to overcome your repugnance to me, as it will be decid- edly uncomfortable when I am your husband." Tlie Contessa pressed her hands together, striving to recover her composure as she said, with forced calmness : « Once for all, Duke, let us end this. You will never be my husband; my very soul revolts against the tliought. I will defy my father— aye, all the world, to force such a bond upon me. You cannot wed me without my consent, and that 1 will never give." " Pardon me for contradicting you, Contessa, and allow me to say that yon will consent ; that before another day is gone you will give me your hand of your own free will. The Duke of Castellara is not "used to being thwarted in his dearest wishes. Now, farewell, until you summon me to your side as your accepted suitor." Elena stood upright in the centre of the room, cold, rigid, and silent, until the door closed upon the demon who had so tortured her ; then, with a wild cry, she sank down in a heap on the rich carpet, and lay pant- ing and weeping in an agony of grief. -ij^ai>^&&Bl^SaR54**'STS.B;Wv ;VTK"ilit SieSs».'Jr«s*=;^'=v i^-i^aIjF*^^»*i^^^.'.'■l'■"•i-^ «ci*i! l^3iTii«^-;.'Sir»«Iy-^SarT^JH?'l~" E3-, iJ I •I 64 THE DUKE OF GASTELLARA. Scarce had the footsteps of the Duke of Oastellara died away in the distance, before an inner door that led to the salon opened, and an old man, with slightly bowed figure, thin, gray hair, and pale, worn, resolute face, softly entered. lie paused for a moment on the threshold, with the door still open behind him, seeming irresolute whether to advance or retire ; then, with a glance of infinite pity, that changed instantly into a hard, stubborn look, he came towards the weeping girl, and leaning over her, lifted her tenderly in his arms, while ho said somewhai; sternly : "What is the meaning of this unseemly grief, Elena?" The sound of her father's voice appeared to soothe the Contessa instantly, for, leaning her head against the Count's shoulder, and pressing his hand to her heart, she said between her sobs: "It must have been a frightful dream, and now, my father, you are here, and it is gone." "What has happened, what was a dream?" asked her father, with a puzzled look. " This dreadful interview with the Duke of Oastel- lara. It surely could not have been real ? " "Are you insane, child? What could there be dreadful in a visit from the Duke ? Why, every lady in Florence welcomes him with outstretched hands ? " ,2sa^«««^«»s»s» ULLARA. THE DUKE OF CASTELLARA. 65 Dake of Oastellara an inner door that i man, with slightly pale, worn, resolute I thi-eshold, with the i*fv^ JaiB>.S&UJ _*.'-r slVi^iVa' «--■•" ■*.*i.-""*:i*!reSliati»jrf-(4«i->-i -ilk ;|Sai* ..1 ,1 66 THE DUKE OF GASTELLABA. |i: Becret of my unhappy love, not to speak of my wed- ding another." ," Miserable child, will yon allow that romantic folly to rnin all your prospects in life? " « IIow can you call it a folly ? It was part of my being, and it lives now within my heart." " Then I advise you to kill it as soon as possible, for it can do you no good to nourish it and keep it alive with your teai-s." "Listen to me, father. When you refused ray prayer to allow me to wed the man I loved, I m\> mitted to your will ; I obeyed you outwardly, but my love still remained. His death removed him from the path of your ambition, and now you think you can . tear his image from my heart and replace it by an- , other; but you are mistaken. I shall never love again, and I shall never become the wife of any man." Count Altimonti turned fearfully pale as his daugh- ter's words fell on his ears, and the nervous clasp of his hands told how deep was his emotion; but he replied as calmly as though she had made a remark of little importance. V « Elena, my poor child, our wills seem to come into constant conflict. Whatever I wish, whatever I know to be for your best good, is sure to meet with opposi- tion from you. Now, be calm and listen to reason. Granted that you loved Lord Challonner, and that I * ' ^ V 'ELLAKA. ,0 speak of my wed- kv that romantic folly \ It was part of my heart." s soon aa possible, for L it and keep it alive len you refused my man I loved, I eul> lu outwardly, but my •emoved him from the IV you think you can and replace it by an- sliall never love again, Pe of any man," illy pale as his daugh- l the nervous clasp of his emotion; but he had made a remark of ills seem to come into wish, whatever I know e to meet with opposi- 1 and listen to reason. Dhallonner, and that I THE DUKE OF GA8TELLARA. C7 refused my sanction to your union with him — that you obeyed me, and that afterwards he died — is there any leason in all that why you should not marry now? AVliy, even the most devoted wife will lay aside her weeds for a new love. It seems to me that this maid- enly grief is unbecoming." " Nay, father, do not taunt me. God knows that, next to my duty to you, it is the holiest feeling of my heart. I will obey you in aught else, but do not ask nie to give my hand in marriage, especially to the Duke of Castellara, whom I hate with my whole soul." " Elena, the time has come at last — the hour that I have dreaded for years, when I must tell you the truth. I hoped your acquiescence to my wishes would have spared me the humiliation of this moment. You have believed your father to be rich ; you have thought this palace, these pictures, this costly furniture, the plate and jewels, belonged to me, but they do not ; all that I call mine in the world belongs to the Duke of Castellara." > " My God, is this true ? " cried Elena. " Yes, it is true, fearfully true ; and now, when you refuse to listen to his proposal, I see what a fearful gulf yawns before me." " What can I do — how can I help you ? Alas ! I know not." " By becoming the wife of the Duke. The day you S^fW» A7SMU«iik>r^ ■ S^ i FiWC aWW'*^ ■ '9''a\^U>M>«lW^ ■.^!?i4^M ■1 .i'^' 91 ■ THE DUKE OF CASTELLABA. conecnt to be his, ho will destroy every proof of my in- debtedness to him ; ho will restore my property to mc, and I shall be a free and happy man again." " And I the most wretched of slaves. O father 1 the sacrifice is too much." ' " Listen to the other side of my humiliating story. If you refuse, Count Altimonti and his lovely and ac- complished dangTiter will be turned out upon the world helpless beggars." " Ah ! my father, I would a thousand times prefer poverty— even beggary— to becoming his wife." « But your father's honor— have you no thought of that ? The proud name of Altimonti will be dragged through the mire, the palace of his ancestors will pass into the hands of strangers, and he will have no other . refuge than the grave." v r < « Can the Duke of Castellara buy me at such a price 1 Can he make the father's misfortune a means of winning the wretched reluctant daughter ? Oh, ho is a greater monster than I thought him I " « Hush, my child ; he loves you, and he will not bo thwarted. Had you listened kindly to his proposals, and accepted him voluntarily, he would not have re- sorted to such means : as it is, he is resolved to gain your consent or complete my ruin." " O father ! is there no way of escape ? Cannot you free yourself from his power without sacrificing mo ? TELLABA. THE DUKE OF CASTE LLARA. 69 every proof of my i Ti- ro my property to iiic, man again. slaves. O father 1 the my humiliating story. vnd his lovely and ac- turned out upon the thousand times prefer ming his wife." ave you no thought of raonti will be dragged his ancestors will pass . he will have no other ra buy me at such a r's misfortune a means ant daughter 1 Oh, ho ight him 1 " you, and he will not bo iindly to his proposals, he would not have re- , he is resolved to gain urn." 3f escape ? Cannot you without sacrificing me ? I will bear any lot patiently, however humble, if you will but spare me this dreadful fate." " There is no way, my child. Wo are helpless in his hands, and you exaggerate your position. The Duko oftors you the greatest honor that can bo conferred upon you. Your life will be one triumph, and you will be happy in having done your duty, in having saved your father from a dishonored grave." " Say no more, I implore you. Do with me as yon will— I am ready for the sacritico ; but, my father, never reproach me if you see forever before you, in- stead of the Elena you liave loved, but a wretched mockery of her image, a body without a lieart, a crea- ture destitute of one noble impulse ; for, to become the wife of the Duke of Castellara, I must kill all that is good in my nature ; every tender emotion, every holy thought, mast be torn from my wretched, suffering soul, and instead of a gentle, loving woman, I shall be changed into a cruel, reckless creature, unloved by all and despised most by myself." " My poor cliild, your recent sorrow has unnerved you, and you take a morbid view of everything. When you are the Duchess of Castellara you will think difEerently, and will be ready to bless me for showing you your duty and saving you from your- self." " God grant that it may be so. I am doing my duty, li^ilar^^t «««»» >ut«MIK2>>«MKMUl^:? nr p: TO FIORDILISA. yon say, and that bIiouUI bo onou<,'h to insure tny hap- plncss. Write to the Duke of Castoll.ira, and say tlmt he was not wrong when ho told mo 1 would recall him to my side a3 iny accepted suitor. Tell him to come. I consent, I consent!" and, with a sob of anguish, tho unhappy girl fell back iu her father's arms uucou- Bcious. ' CHAPTER V. f^-' FIORDILISA. |tlEN lingo fled in the gathering twilight, with the infant he had taken from the dead woman whom he found near the Church of San Salvador, his only thought was to reach the shelter of his hovel on San Miniato as quickly as possible. Witliout looking behind him, he hurried up the steep hill, breathless, trembling, guilty, for, now that he had really done the deed, he wished it undone and the child safely back on its mother's bosom. It seemed to him that footsteps were pattering after him ; that the very air was full of horror, beating on his ears with a strange, low plaint, as though a mother mounied for her firet-born and would not be comforted. , But the child slept peacefully on his breast, its FIORDILISA. 71 ij^h to insure my hap- astoll.ira, and say that mo 1 would recall him r. Tell him to come. I a Bob of anguish, tlio father's arms uucou- athcring twilight, with akeii from the dead id near the Church of .vaa to reach the shelter 13 quickly as possible, e hurried up the steep yr, for, now that he had ed it undone and the s bosom. It seemed to ig after him ; that the ,ting on his ears with a a mother mounied for ! comforted, 'ully on his breast, its warm little face pressed to his poor heart, that had never throbbed befuro with such tender emotion. Already he seemed to love it ; his desolate life needed Boniething to render its burden endurable. Then, what sin was there in his caring for this motiierlesa infant? ♦ Suddenly a figure appeared to stand before him, clad in soft, light drapery, with golden hair fulling away from its face, and eyes filled M-ith divine love and compassion. Was it the Holy Virgin, who was thus barring his way, or was it a vision of the Angel of the Church ! The sweet face, as ho looked, seemed to change from pity to rebuke, and one hand pointed to the city he had left behind him— to the dead woman lying under the cypress near San Salvador. Hugo was a creature of impulse, and, as most of his countrymen, superstitious to folly. Although he was Bure that this vision before him was only visible to his mental eyes, yet it seemed to him as though he had really seen the Angel of the Church, and she had spoken to him reproachfully and warningly. Stopping, like a wild animal suddenly brought to bay in its flight from its pursuei-s, he would have turned and retraced his steps, but already he heard a murmur of voices behind him. Some monks were creeping slowly up the hill, in the shadows of the cypress trees, and they evidently had passed the dead ,_t^iii^L^^- 72 PIOIWILISA. woman without Rocing licr. Ho tlarcd not meet tlipflo holy men with tlio evidence of liis tlictt in his iirnm. So, hiBtead of tiwning back, ho hurried on faster thiiu before, and did not pause again until he reached the door of his hovel. * ' Outwardly, the place where the poor Ininchback fonnd Bhelter, and which ho called home, was little bettor than a pile of stones thrown rudely together aiiJ covered with a sort of coai-se cement which filled np the croviccfi, keeping out the wind and rain in winter, and the heat and dust in sunnncr. There was a scpiaro hole for a window, with a board that slid back and forth as it was needed, either to open or shut the aperture, and a door so low that an upright man could not have entered without stooping ; but it was high enough for the bent figure of Hugo. Everything about the exterior of the humble place was neat and orderly; a few morning-glories crept ovor the rongh walls and shaded the casement, and several rose-bushes and myrtles grew in boxes standing near the entrance ; a clump of cypress trees and a stunted olive made a background for tho rude hovel, shading it from the too ardent rays of the sun, and giving it a picturesque, if not a cheerful, appearance. Although the outside of the hunchback's home was BO poor and unattractive, the interior presented a pleas- ant picture, for everywhere the artist's taste was visi- FmiiDiLrsA. 73 larcd not meet tlioflo iB tlittt in liirt iirniH. urried on faster tliiui uutil he roachod tho the poor hunchhack led homo, was little 11 rudely togetlier an '. iment which filled up id and raiu in winter, window, with a board vas needed, either to a door so low that an red without stooping ; bent figure of Hugo, the humble place was ing-glories crept over casement, and several a boxes standing near 88 trees and a stunted rude hovel, shading he sun, and giving it a ipearance. mnchback's home was erior presented a pleas- artist's taste 'was visi- ble. Scraps of different colored drapery which had been given him, or that he iuid picked up from the hiicd-hra.^ shops on the Vontc Vt'i'chio^ were arranged (ivcr tho riulo walls with remurkublo taste, i)oth in re- 111(1 to harmony of color and design, A simple bed in one corner was covered with a drapery, which ho had nmnnfactured himself from bright bits of caml)ric and other stuffd that the more fortunate had thrown away as useless, while everywhere his skill in carving was visible. Tho franitss that surrounded a few course prints were works of art; tho simiU table, chair, and stool had boon fashioned by his own hands, as well as a book-case that hung against the wall, filled with Some worn books that ho had bought for a triflo from the stalls in the streets. They were mostly works on art, or the lives and writings of the different Italian authors, plainly showing that the poor hunchback loved literature as well as all other beautiful and ennobling things. In one corner, and screened oft' from the remainder of the room, was a chimney, a few shelves and cooking utensils, all as clean and bright as the most fastidious liousekeeper could desire, and at the foot of his bed was a little altar carved with a loving, reverential hand, supporting a crucifix and a dying Christ, copied from LuGa della Robbia, with two kneeling angels on each side. ti FIORD! USA. *m Xt'iu-ly ten years of Iln^'o'a life Imd been pftsned in \\m little r(«)in, anJ lie liml HpiMit all IiIh leiHure time in improving,' imtl (lenniitiii^' it, until iit tiiniM it kiumiicmI to him iw lu'iiiilifiil us the most clc^'iint piilmte in I-'lnr- iMici", and II lit pliico for a king to dwell in. It hud tMmt him very little to live there ; ho paid the nK.nkrt of San Aliniato a trifle for the privilege of inhabiting the little hovel that waH, after all, only an abandoned goivt-hoUBe, and no living thing, save iS'ann his gout, ever camo near him. The gentle animal was his boIc companion as well as hiis princi])al Bonreo of Hiisle- nanee, for her milk and a few vegetables that ho raised off a little i)lot behind the hovel, served him fi&!ft^WMfe»Wi"fA'Si»- FI0RD1LI8A. 75 ifc Imd bfcn pasBcd in !iit all liiH luiHiire tiiiio iiitil lit tiiiiiM it, HiU'iiiiil .'Icj^aiit piiliice ill FliT- f to chvell ill. it hiul •e ; lio paid the moiika [)rivilego of inliabiting nil, only III! ulmiuUnietl , save Kanft his goat, tie animal was his boIc !i])al Boiirco of hiihIc- •■ THK MARRTAOE W THE DUOyfO, I'crdinaiK'. ilcsceiidod from liiBclmirof state, tlio Canli- iitil iippn'tx hod the clmncel, and tlio oorciiKmy that M-as to iiulu E!' ua Altimouti tho DticheHs of Carttcl- lara, bogaii, Tlioro was profound Kilcnuo. Every M'ord of the ]>rioHt was heard distinctly, and tho clear, proud voice of tho Diiko sounded like an exultant and triumphant »ong;, as he responded, while the li(juid tones of tho Contessa woro as ealin and Bvveot, as though ph<) were uttering some eonuuonplaeo 6eii<< nco in her iiitl.'or's «a/oH. Tho G» ind Duko Ferdinand gave her away, tho ring was jdoeed upon licr Ihiger, and she knei' to rcr-.eive the benediction of the holy fatlicr, like one in a dream, for her thoughts were far from the splendor of tho Bceno around her. She was living over another liour in lier life, a moment when one she loved with all her Boul had knelt at her feet and whispored words of tender passion in her willing ear. So absorbed was she in her sad sweet memories, that she scarce heard the words of the priest, the roll of the organ, or tho murmur of tho vast mnltitude around her. At last tho voice of her hnsband — that hated voice — fell npon her car and recalled her to herself. Without raising her eyes to his, she listened in silence to his words of ten- derness, which seemed more like an expression of tri- umph, and then turned to her friends, who crowded around her with their well-meaut cougratulatiouB. HE Dunyro, ftir of state, tlio Cunli- 1(1 tlio oerciutmy tlmt ho Diinhcrts of Ciirttcl- mnd HileiKto. Evory Uiiu'tly, aiul tlio cltJiir, 1 like III) CMiltant and led, while tho li«jiiid calin and swoot, aa loniiuouphico Boiufiiico avo her away, tho rhij^ i she kiiol' to rc-!civo r, like one in a dream, 1 the splendor of tho iig over another lionr sho loved with all her 1 whifipored words of ar. So absorbed was that sho scarce heard I of the organ, or tho ■ound her. At last tho i voice — fell upon her Without raising her CO to his words of ten- an expression of tri- frieuds, who crowded t cougratulatiouB. _ J ffl ■ ._-,.,. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I 1^ 150 ■^ 136 u Hi 1^ 1^ ^ m 2.0 L25 11114 IIIIII.6 y PhotDgraphic Sdences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) »72-4503 \ •N? \\ rv 6^ L I Mil 1^1 CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHIVI/ICIVIH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques % THE MARRIAGE IN THE LUOMO. 89 Almost the first one to press to her side was Enrico, who, pale as death, looked pityingly on the lovely victim of a father's ambition. The silent, firm pres- sure of his fingere, the earnest exprer^sion of his eyes, reassured her, and enabled her to overcome the emo- tion that threatened to vanquish her forced calm- ness. Again the organ pealed forth ; all was over, and the angels of heaven must have wept at the spectacle, for a greater mockery of all that is holy, a more pitiless sacrifice, a more cruel deception was never practised. The Duchess of Castellara took the arm of her hus- band, but as she did so, she shot from under her down- cast lids such a glance of hate and scorn straight to his very soul, that he quailed under it, and looked away almost terrified. The brilliant cortege filed ont of the church; the crowd huzzaed wildly, shouting " Long live the Duke, long live the Duchess ; " the bells rang out their mer- riest peals, and amid the general clamor of rejoicing the pale young bride drove away to her future home, the magnificent palace of the Duke of Castellara. " I should not like to have had you look at me that way on our wedding day, Francesca," said a good- natured peasant to his buxom wife, who stood with wide eyes eagerly fixed on the Duchess. " How, foolish Gito \ Do you expect the nobility to irl /J).*'- 90 THE MARRIAOE IN TUB DUOMO. appear as we do 1 Why, she only looked pale and proud, just as a dnclicss shonld." " She looked as tluHigh she wonld like to stab the Duke, that was how she looked to me." -^ " Oh, nonsense. Why, her crown of diamonds was as handsome as a queen's." " And hei- face as pale and fixed as a corpse." "And the pearls on her necklace as large as my thumb." " She never smiled once. I watched her face all the time. She never raised her eyes to her husband's, once." " Did you notice the length of her train, and such velvet to drag over the ground! She never even raised it when she entered her carriage," said a shop- keeper, ruefully. "Do you think the Duchess of Castellara would take the trouble to lift her train ? " asked a little milli- ner near him. " I only wonder she did not have a couple of pages to bear it." " They must have bought all the white plumes in Florence. I have counted more than fifty on the bride's chariot," returned the shopman. " Well, it is a good thing for we poor people who work. 1 wish the Duke of Castellara would get married every day." " So do we," cried a group of children. "Have you heard what they are going to do % " of \\\ \\\ of si! cc ai a^ t{ h 8' E DUOMO. \y looked pale and iild like to stab the me." 'n of diamonds was I as a corpse." lace as large as my matched her face all es to her husband's, her train, and such I She never even irriage," said a shop- of Castellara would ' asked a little milli- she did not have a he white plumes in 3 than fifty on the man. "Well, it is a lo work. 1 wish the •ried every day." dildren. " Have you THE MARRIAGE IN THE DUOMO. 91 «No. Whatisit!" * - \ v. . "The Duke's majordomo is going to shower lots of confetti in the square, and bags of silver coiu-so nuidi'that those who pick it up will be rich all tlieir lives." . , . T 1 " Is that true 1 Ah 1 his highness has the right kmd of a heart after all. Now, look out cava mia for the silver, and let the confetti go. Silver will buy all the confetti you want, but confetti will not buy silver, and, with this sage advice, the man of business walked away. ., " I dare say old Giovan would like to be a child, too, so that he might get some," said a pert little girl holding up her apron in anticipation of the shower of sweets that would be poured into it. « I'm glad that it is only for the children, else the grown people would push us little folk aside, and get it all." « They can't do that, for, yon see all these soldiers standing about to prevent them, and, it will be like stealing, if they take any. The Duke gave orders that it w»s only for the children," said a pale, eager boy, coming forward anxiously. Presently, while they all pressed nearer to the main entrance of the Duomo, the stately majordomo came down the steps, followed by two servants bearing each a huge bag. THE MARRIAGE IN THE DUOMO. " There is the confetti ! there is the money," they all cried, excitedly. With one majestic wave of his hand, he cleared a space around him while he said, in a loud, pompous voice : " His highness, the Duke of Castellara, has re- membered the children of Florence on this, his wed- ding day, and has ordered me to distribute among yon three thousand mezsi liri and a number of bushels of confettV Before the majordomo had well finished his speech the air was rent with the joyous cry of " Long live the Duke of Castellara, long live the Duke ! " Then each of the servants raising their hands, threw out over the crowd, handful after handful of confetti mingled with email silver coins. Then such a wild scene as ensued would be impossi- ble to describe ; children rushing pell-mell over each other. The strong and greedy snatching from the timid and weak what they had picked up, one jostling aside another just as his tingera were about to close on a coveted piece — shouts, laughter, groans, tears and cries of rage and disappointment all mingled together, And when, from time to time, some poor trembling beggar who could not resist the temptation to stealthily snatch a piece was detected by one of the soldiers and rudely made to disgorge, a yell of delight would rise from the crowd, for the rights of the children were g o f a t c E < IE DUOMO. is the money," they 8 hand, he cleared a , in a loiid, pompous of Castellara, has re- !nce on this,- his wcd- distribute among yon number of bushels of 11 finished his speech jry of " Long live the Duke ! " Then each is, threw out over the confetti mingled with led would be impossi- g pell-mell over each snatching from the Ickcd np, one jostling ,'ere about to close on 3r, groans, tears and all mingled together, some poor trembling imptation to stealthily le of the soldiers and >f delight would rise af the children were THE MARniAOE IN THE DUOMO. 98 generally respected ; the adults standing by to cheer on their own offspring, or the strong and rapacious who got the most in the stniggle. At length the last hand- ful was dispensed, and the last howl of delight uttered, and the dense crowd gradually dispersed, some con- tented with their share of the spoils, others crying and complaining over their disappointment and the bruises and blows they had received, but all, nevertheless, well satisfied that the Duke of Castellara was a good, gener- ous man and a public benefactor, who had dispensed his charity right nobly and judiciously on this his wed- ding day. While this rude scene was taking place in the square of the Duomo, the banquet at the Ducal palace was progressing on a scale of magnificence and splendor seldom, if ever, equalled. The Duke, with the Duchess by his side, received his guests in the most courtly manner, indicating the place of each one at the banquet ; Ferdinand and the Court first, and after them each noble according to his title, and each officer according to his rank. When all were seated and the gilded covere were removed, it seemed as though every dainty and rarity had been gathered from the four corners of the earth. Fruits from the tropics, birds and game from the far North, fish from all the rivers of the earth, wines from every vintage under the bud. ^m THE MARRIAGE IN THE LUOMO. Gold and silver dishes of antique workmanship were piled with rare fruit and decorated with costl)' exotics. Platters of delicate Sevres wai-e, each a work of art in itself, held the game and meats of every description, which were served to the guests on plates of oriental china as thin and richly colored as the petals of a flower, while the wine flowed in old Venetian glasses as delicate and transparent as hubbies. Nothing was wanted at this Lucullean banquet that money could procure or the most extravagant taste devise, and yet the Duke did not seem satisfied with the result, for while the wine flowed as freely as the wit of his guests, and the merry laughter of fair maidens mingled with the gay badinage of their cavaliore, his Duchess re- mained silent, sad, and indifferent. When the moment arrived for the bride to cut the bridal cake, as was the custom, all stood up and the Duke, with a graceful and pleasant speech gave her the gold knife, while Ferdinand held her fan; but, instead of performing the simple ceremony, she de- clined, with a cold and haughty bow, and requested her maid of honor, who stood behind her, to do it for her. Then, without appearing to notice the Duke, who was greatly annoyed at this breach of etiquette, she turned and made some remark to Ferdinand, who sat on her right. " The Contessa Elena always was eccentric," said one HE LUOMO, [lie workmanship were ed with codtl)' exotics, cadi a work of art in of every description, 3 on plates of oriental )d as the petals of a >ld Venetian glasses as bbles. Nothing was let that money could taste devise, and yet [ with the result, for J the wit of his guests, laidens mingled with iera, his Duchess re- it. I" the bride to cut the all stood up and the 3ant speech gave her [ held her fan ; but, le ceremony, she de- ow, and requested her [ her, to do it for her. le the Duke, who was etiquette, she turned inand, who sat on her as eccentric," said one TUB MARBIAOE IN THE DUOMO. 95 of her admirers in reply to the remark of a lady next him, "and now that she is a bride and a duchess, she has a better right than ever to indulge in her little whims." « But the Duke is in a fearful rage," said the lady. " See how pale he is, and how he gnaws his upper lip. I should not like to offend him so openly. It is a bad beginning, and I am sure they will never be happy." " Bah ! what difference, entre mm, she has bought her coronet, and she must pay for it ; but she must not drive the Duke to the wall, for he is a dangerous enemy." ^^ '^ ■' ' " She looks resolute and proud enough to be a match for him, and more than that, she seems most unhappy. I am sure she never became Castellara's wife of her own free will ; there must have been some coercion, which she is revenging on him by treating him with this studied coldness and scorn." " Ah I how you fair creatures like to speculate, and weave romances out of the most practical things. It seems to me very reasonable that she should marry him, for who co> i .-esist Castellara, gilded as he is ? " At that moment L ;e Duchess rose from the table, the royal guest retired, and the grand banquet, that had been the talk of all Florence, was over. An hour later the Duchess, leaning on the arm of Enrico, entered a small hovdoir, fitted up with the m THE MARUIAOE IN THE DUOMO. iiioftf. Gxqiiirtifo taflto, and redolent with tho perfume of rtowois, wliitili were placed ever}- where In luvish pro- fusion. With a heavy si<,'h she withdrew her arm from her cousin's, and throwing herself wearily into a chair she Baid : " Well, Enrico, what have you to Bay to mo that recpiires this privacy? Tho DuchcHS of Castellara must not absent herself from her guests on her wed- ding day, so pray bo brief." " I will not detain you long, cousin, for I well know that the time is inopportune, but I am so anxious to ask you why you have so steadily refused to sco me over since your betrothal to the Duke. Did we not agree to be tho closest and dearest friends ? " " Yes, dear Enrico, wo did, and my part of the compact is unbroken. You are the only friend I have on earth beside my father." " Then why did you not see me before your mar- riage ? " "I did not know you wished to see me. I was not told of your visits. I denied myself to every one, but never to you ; it was a mistake that yon were not admitted, for I needed your friendship as I never have before. O Enrico I I am too wretched." " And all Florence is envying yon your good for- tune." " Ah ! my God 1 if tliey only knew how gladly I V ti \ 1 t s ■R nUOMO. with tlio perfume of where In luvish pro- V her arm from her iirily into a chair she on to say to mo that iichesB of Castelhira guests on her wed- isin, for I well know I am so anxious to y refused to sco me Duke. Did we not friends?" md my part of the 10 only friend I have le before your mar- ) see me. I was not iclf to every one, but that yon were not iship as I never have ched." : yon your good for- knew how gladly I TUB MARRI'OE IN THE DUOMO. 97 wonld change places with the meanest peasant who today gazed with open-mouthod ailmiratlon at my pomj) and splendor." « I do not understand you, Elena," returned Enrico gravely, "you are a strange contradiction. Wlicn 1 last talked with you, yon assured' mo most solemnly that you would never marry the Duko of Castollara, a-id yot, three days after, your engagement to him was announced. Why did you change so suddenly?" " I was forced to accept him. You surely do not think me so weak and base as to marry him voluu tarily?" « Forced 1 I scarcely comprehend your meaning. What coercion was powerful enough to hasten you to such sudden decision 1 " "My cousin, it is a secret that I never intended t,hould pass my lips, but you I can trust ; beside, I \\:sh to offer some extenuating reason to you for my conduct. I married the Duko of Castelhira to save my father from irretrievable ruin." "Your father from mini What can you mean, Elena? Surely your trouble has turned your brain." « Alasl no, Enrico, it is too true, my unhappy father was in the power of the Duke. F.)r years we have lived upon the wealth of the man I treated vith scorn and contempt, and all that appears to belong *.o my -*^""""^' 98 THE MARRIAGE IN TUB DUOMO. father JB not hio, but tho property of tho Duke of CaB- tclkra." " Elciift, yon nuist bo jcstiiij?. AVho could }mvo told yon this silly talo?" cried Enrico in afltoniHhiuent. " My ftithor told mo tho huuiiliatin<; story of his ruin, with his own- lips, and entrcatod nio to savu hi in from utter beggary." " Your father ! My undo I Can it bo possible ? What could have induced him to utter snch a false- hood ? Tho Altimonti estate, though small, is unencum- bered. Your father is a wealthy man. I surely should know, for I receive my revenue from tho same prop- erty." "Oh! my cousin, arc yon snro of what you assert ? Tell mo quickly, I pray you, for I cannot endnro to think that I am the victim of my father's deception." " I am positive of what I have told yuches8 stood before her hands clenched, yea filled with tears TUE MARniAQK IN THE DUOMO. 00 that did not fall. At last she spoko in lov measured tones, as though her heart were uttering the words in- Btead of her lips : « , , , «If this bo true, then -I am the victim of the father whom I loved and trusted, and ho has been .ny most cruel enemy, and 1 caimot revenge myself upon him, because ho is my father. There is nothing good, or holy, or pure in life, and there are none wo can trust, not even those who brought ns into the world ; they even are destitute of natural affection, and will sacri- lico their own offspring to ambition and wealth. But it is too late now. Had I known this before, I nught have been saved." « Had they allowed mo to see you, I should have dis- covered their plot, and frustrated their plans. I feared there was some treachery when 1 was so constantly refused." ^ . " And do yon think the Duke was a party to this cruel conspiracy?" «'l know not, but I presume he was the instigator, and first proposed it to your father as a means of win- ning you." . « My father, and my husband, the two bemgs i should love best on earth, are from this moment my most bitter enemies; and they shall rue tho hour when they plotted my ruin. Enrico, bear witness to what I Bay, the Duke of Castellara shall be punished as sure as 100 THE MARRIAGE IN THE DUOMO. there is a God in Heaven ! I will bido my time. I will wait patiently for the hour of my vengeance. I am an Altimonti, and I inherit something of my father's implacable nature, for I never forget an in- jury. Henceforth I stand alone, my heart and soul opposed to every living thing," " Not to me, Elena, surely not to me ! " cried Enrico alarmed at her violence. " I said to all the world ; I trust no one. My father has deceived mc, and you would do the same if it served your interests." " Never, as God hears me, never." " I trust no one. Remember what I have said. Fare- well, the Duchess of Castellara must return to her guests." And with a low bow, and a bitter mocking laugh she raised the silken curtain over the door and disap- peared, leaving Enrico motionless with surprise and sorrow. H DUOMO. I bido ray time. I : my vengeance. I something of my lever forget an in- ny heart and soul me ! " cried Enrico Tust no one. My would do the same ; I have said. Fare- lust return to her :er mocking langh he door and disap- with surprise and 81QN0BA PIA. 101 CHAPTER VII. SIONORA PIA. lELL me, papa, please, what is there fastened to this black cord you always wear around your neck?" asked a child of eight years, a fair, blue-eyed, golden-haired girl, wlio clung to a pale, deformed man, caressing him affectionately, pressing her rosy cheeks to his sallow face, and smoothing hia long, dark locks with her white dimpled fingei-s. The child was Fiordilisa, the babe that was stolen from her mother, as she lay under the cypress tree near San Salvador, and the man was Hugo the hunch- back, who h'vd carried her in his arms, trembling with fear, to his hovel on San Miniato. The infant had lived and prospered under the tender care of Hugo. Shut out from the world, with no com- panions save her father and Nana, the goat, she knew nothing of a life beyond the church and the hill of San Miniato, yet she was contented, healthy, and happy, and as beautiful as a poet's dream, while she loved the strange, deformed man with the unselfish, trusting affection of childhood, that neither questions ,. ,',( i- I' I I $^ S'^ 102 aiGNOBA PIA. nor exacts, taking what is given it gratefully and cheerfully. They were sitting on a rude bench under the cypress — or rather, Hugo was sitting, and the child stood beside him witli one arm thrown fondly around his neck, when a small silken cord just visible above his open collar attracted her attention, and caused her to ask the question at the opening of the chapter. Hugo did not reply, but looked uneasily away toward the city below him, while an expression of fear and anxiety crossed his face. Again the child, with gentle pereistency, repeated the question, "Tell me, papa, what is there on the cord ? Is it an Agnus Dei ? " " No, Lisa, it is a ring that I have worn for a long time." " A ring ? Oh, let me see it, papa. I never saw a ring." "Certainly, darling, if you wish to," said Hugo, taking the ring reluctantly from the little bag, which he held closely, fearful lest the clasp that the babe had worn might meet the eye of the child. " I have never parted with it for a moment," he said, kissing it reverently, as he laid it in Lisa's outstretched palm. " Oh, how pretty I " she exclaimed, turning the band on her rosy finger, while she examined it closely. " It has a picture on it, papa, such ^ tiny picture." \^ it gratefully and h under the cypress id the child stood fondly around his it visible above his , and caused her to he chapter, ced uneasily away 1 expression of fear jreistency, repeated at is there on the ,ve worn for a long ipa. I never saw a h to," said Hugo, le little bag, which lasp that the babe he child. " I have ' he said, kissing it stretched palm. i, turning the band led it closely. " It y picture." 8IGN0RA PIA. 103 « It is a coronet, my child. It was given me by a good and noble lady." " A good and noblo lady ! Ah 1 papa, I know who gave it you. It was the one you call the Angel of the Church, the one whose image you carved so beauti- fully, and whom you said I might love next to the Holy Virgin." ■ - " Yes, my Lisa, you are right ; it was she who gave me the ring when I was in sore trouble and near to death ; when I was poor, despised, and friendless." "O i)apa! why were you despised and friendless, why were you in trouble?" and the child put her arms around him in a pitying, protecting way, while tears filled lier eyes, and fell over Hugo's face as she pressed her soft cheek to his. « Never mind, darling; don't weep; every pain I have suffered is not worth a tear from your sweet eyes, and my troubles are over now. I have you to love, and so it does not matter what happened to me in those sorrowful days ; so kiss the ring, dear child, and I will put it away ; for my heart is restless when my treasure is not near it." Lisa pressed her pretty lips to the gold band with lingering fondness, and then, giving it to Hugo, she said softly, and with a shy, downcast look: "I love it, too, because the lady was good to you ; but, papa, when I first saw it, I thought you would tell me that it had m W rm'i'mfiiri'-iTT i rr'- '^ r'''f'^''-"'r>''^'^' % 104 81QN0RA PIA. I belonged to my mamma ; that she had worn it, and given it to you when slie died ; for you remember you told me once that she was dead." " Yes," replied Ilugo, with sudden pallor. " I told you she was dead." " She died when I was a very little baby then, for 1 cannot remember her. Oh, liow I wish I could remem- ber her." " You were too young when she died ; you were but an infant." " Why do yon never talk to me of her, papa ? " " Because, Lisa, it makes jne unhappy ; and I wish to foi'get her." " Wish to forget my mamma ? Is that right, to for- get those you have loved ? " " Yes, when tlie memory causes us pain, my child." " And did she make you unhappy, that you wish to forget her ? " " Hush ! hush ! Lisa ! do not speak of that ; it hurts me to hear it. Let us talk of something else." "Poor papa," she said, tenderly, trying to stroke away the trouble she saw in his face ; " don't look so sad, and we will talk of the noble lady, * the Angel of the Church,' and that will make you happier." "Yes, Lisa, talk of her, think of her; and so your thoughts will be nearer heaven." " Is she in heaven, papa ? " le had worn it, and ■ you remember you len pallor. " I told ttle baby then, for 1 wish I could remem- died ; you were but )f her, papa ? " ihappy ; and I wish Is that right, to for- us pain, my child." py, that you wish to ak of that ; it hurts thing else." y, trying to stroke ice ; " don't look so lady, ' the Angel of u happier." f her; and so your SIQNORA PIA. 105 « No, my child, she is on earth ; but the memory of her charity and goodness makes a heaven in my heart when I think of her." " And do you never see her, papa 1 " " No, my child, she is a great lady. She is the Duchess of Castcllara. She lives in Florence, where I never go, only in secret. For eight years I have not seen her, but 1 remember her as well as tliough it were but yesterday that she stood before me in the cliurch ; and I shall see her again, some time, wlien I am more worthy of her kindness than I am now. But see, my Lisa, it is growing late ; the sun is nearly down, and you have not yet recited your lesson." « Oh, papa ! I have not learned it. I am so sorry ; but after I sat for you to model my face, I was so tired with keeping still that Nana and I had to run around the convent garden. And then it was warm, and it is so quiet there since the monks went away, that 1 fell asleep and only awoke when you called me." "Well, I suppose I must forgive you," and Hugo smiled indulgently at her innocent excuses. "But bring your book and recite your lesson with me, for my Lisa must not grow up ignorant and stupid. I be- gan to teach myself to read when I was but a few years older than you are, and I was all alone in the world and had no one to help me— only now and then when Father Ilario, a good monk who went to Kome years 6* ''A 1 , :U- r.'Ti' iiritii'iii'i'--" ^HiS.sWliMWMk'' -iMttiuisc.i^e^d^M^&S^ V, ' .♦* 106 8IQN0RA PIA. ago, loaned me a book ov pointed out the lettcre to me on the scraps of journals I picked up in the streets ; but I was never discouraged, and afterwards I found my books my greatest comfort. And since I have had you, while you were sleeping at night, I have sat by your bed and studied, that l' might be able to teach you when you were old enough to learn. Now the time has come, and you must begin to study. So run and fetch your book." ■ " Yes, papa, and to-morrow I will not be so idle," said the docile child, as she ran to obey her father, her beautiful hair making sunlight about her, and her eyes radiant with life and happiness. In a moment she returned with her book, and lean- ing against the hunchback's shoulder, with her arm around his bowed neck, aiid her cheek pressed close to his, she recited with him her lesfon, which was to open the door of poetry and romance to her ardent young heart. Then when the sun was low and its last rays lingered for a moment on the topmost tower of the church, gilding the sombre walls of the convent and the for- tress of the great Angelo, Lisa saw it vanish, leaving all in purple shadow, saw the red line of light in the west beyond the black cypress, and the city below like a vapory violet sea, just as she had seen it all a hundred timee, without being aware of its grandeur and beauty — it the lettcre to me lip in the streets ; ifterwards I found id since I have had ight, I have sat by t be able to teach learn. Now the 1 to study. So run ill not be so idle," ibey her father, her it her, and her eyes er book, and lean- cler, with her arm sek pressed close to , which was to open her ardent young ts last rays lingered Bver of the church, nivent and the for- t vanish, leaving all of light in the west I city below like a een it all a hundred .ndeur and beauty — BJGNOSA PIA. #. 107 and without one lingering glance. After she had fin- ished her lesson, she kissed her father lovingly, and with a good-night to Kana, who browsed near, she ran away to her humble bed to sleep the sleep of innocent childhood, watched over by that God who cares for IL's lowliest creature. - • For a long while after the child had left him Hugo Bat there in deep thought. It was the eighth anniver- sary of the night that he had brought her home, and for eight years he had kept his secret, and enjoyed his happiness undisturbed— for eight years he had lived in the retirement of his little cottage, without exciting curiosity or suspicion, and he had prospered, too, and made wonderful strides in his art. For several years the honest Nella had been his only medium of communication with the city ; he had mod- elled and carved his cherubic figures, which she car- ried to the dealer on the Fonte Vecchio, who took them as soon as they were finished, and now paid more liber- ally for them than he did at fii-st, for he found that they were the production of genius, and sold at once to strangers and lovere of art for six times the price he allowed the poor artist who made them. Hugo was frugal and industrious, and it cost but little for him and the child to live, though he -gave her good wholesome food, and dressed her neatly in quaint little garments that ho fashioned with his own 108 aiONOBA PIA. i li hands ; therefore ho was able to save quite a sum, and when Lisa was a few years old he had, with the assist- ance of an honest workman, enlarged his hovel to a comfortable little cottage of three rooms, and these he had decorated after his own fashion until they were not only cheerful and picturesque, but almost luxu- rious in their dainty arrangement. He had planted flowers everywhere, and a little vineyard flourished on the hillside near a well-kep', garden, where at early dawn the hunchback could always be seen digging, weeding, and pruning. Some- times the fair-haired child was at his side, but oftener he was alone, for he preferred that she should sleep until his out-door labor was over and his humble break- fast was spread. Then the remainder of the day was devoted to his art, when Lisa patiently posed to him for hours together, never complaining of weai'iness if her father needed her ; always docile, swee*, and pa- tient, she seemed more like the angels he modelled than an earthly child. When Lisa was between five and six years old, his trusty messenger, Nella, went to live on a little farm at Fisole, and he was obliged to go to the city to transact his own business, which he did from time to time, never lingening longer than was absolutely necessary, and always avoiding his old haunts. But sUch precaution was no longer necessary, for his little tormentors had v^e quite a Bum, and bad, with the assist- pged his hovel to a rooms, and these lie on until they were I, but almost luxu- p'here, and a little e near a well-kep^, hunchback could id pruning. Some- lis side, but oftener t she should sleep J his humble break- der of the day was ently posed to him ing of weariness if cile, swee*, and pa- mgels he modelled d six years old, his 3 on a little farm at the city to transact time to time, never tely necessary, and ut sttch precaution :tle tormentors had BIQNORA riA. 100 grown out of their childish mischief, or had forgotten hi„., and as he was well dressed and respectable look- ing, he passed through the city without being disturbed. . Smi he never entered the gate of San Miniato that he did not experience an uncomfortable feeling, aud ho was never quite at his ease until he found himself on his way back, and in sight of his own little cottage under the two tall cypress trees. On this eighth atmiversary of the day when he had brought the infant to his hovel, ho had completed the most important work he had ever attempted, the fi^.re of a child pursuing a butterfly, and he was satisfied with it as he had never been before with anything that he had done. He well knew that it was exquisite m form, graceful, plastic, full of movement, that the up- lifted hands and radiant face expressed clukbsh, e u- berant life, the earnest eyes expectancy and desire lie bad succeeded in representing marvellously well what was in his soul and what he had modelled from, for the statue was the matchless image of ^^--./-"f ' ^^;^* were, from softly-rounded flesh into cold fixed marble. Ue was thinking now of his work as he sat there alone in the gathering twilight, and a ^-J-S ^^/^ satisfaction, at its successful completion, failed Ins heart. « God has been good to me, much better than I have deserved, and I will go to the church and return thanks to Him for all His mercies. The bells of San Sal- ;;, J.!" 110 8IGN0RA PIA. vador aro ringing for Vespers, they Bcem to crU mo with their dear, sweet tones, and I will obey them. My Lisa sleeps, and the Blessed Virgin will watch over her initil I return. Going slowly down the liill toward the chnrch, his thoughts naturally reverted to that night eight ycai-s before. It was about the same hour, the sweet, solemn Ave Maria, and already the shadows were gathering under the cypresss trees, but surely thnt was not a shadow, the dark object which ho saw ci-oiiched on the ground as though it were praying or weeping. For a njonient the old foeling of supei-stition and horror took possession of him, jjorhaps it was the spirit of tho mother that hud returned to weep on tho spot M'here her child had been taken from her. Ilis lieart ceased to beat, his limbs seemed palsied, and ho could neither advance nor retreat, great drops of sweat streamed down his face, and a thick mist gathered before his eyes. lu a moment ho certaiidy won Id have fallen to the ground, for reason and strength deserted him at once, had not the figure covejed its face suddenly and bui-st into loud sobs. There was something linmaji in such grief that touched tho tender chord in Hugo's nature ; recovering himself immediately he went toward the woman, for he now saw that it was a woman and no spirit, and i)ut- tjng his hand gently on her bent head he asked her y Boom to (!r»ll mo I will obey them. •gin will watch over ird the church, his t night eight ycni-s •, the sweet, solemn )W8 were gathering it was not a sliadow, hed on the ground iig. if siipei-stition and ips it was the spirit 3 weep on the spot n her. , bs seemed palsied, etreat, great drops and a thick mist )ment he certainly ■eason and strength ire covej-ed its face 1 Buch grief that latnre; recovering I'd the woman, for no spirit, and put- lead he asked her B t-fi'if-itiili SJONOIU PIA. 11„ had oflon \«n in 6..ro iiocd lnn». It, nt 1 1 J, „u luB knee, in «.,n. U.noly .,«,. .n uu,i..n ;■;,;;;,, „ia. .in,, B„.,o ..now .,owu,,l.y.uo.i,eru,.nc,, " tTwoinan r.i«d hor 1,c.d .t .ho «,nnd uf hi. volc^ hending over her, which in the Bathen,,« d.>k„.» scorned n,o™ lilio »n evil Bl«it tin." a S'^mo. ,^ " n^ « the g«tn,-e with hitter ,.ain, hnt nevert - ,« Wened to re«n,. her, ..ying gently Do ,„„r me, I an, a poor n,l«.h.i,en ereature, it » no. In, , . ■ Jh^ I have ...ffered ,ny«elf, »i"l I ;::;:r:o;^^lr:..,oa,.oindi.tre.. Te,,^ %irr:i:^-'-..rd..e.ry,aeet„hi. J,,„oreeo,,Me,,ce,forhi..y,nvaO--':;°'f^ tonehed her heart, and .he no longer teared h.m. 1 irllgry and weary," .he said ;"ean yon gtvetne '':';::'itr:iiiyonhoth,",.p.iednn^p.«t»p.iy-, -rXVll'— d;.nde.n.no-,,er. T„„f:nof.no„eywonldhe«.ele»,^rlhave»o strength to find a Pl""^'''""'*^ "'"*''• h t';' l! 1/ na aiQNORA PJA, " Why ftro you liero hoyoiid the city 1 You could Bcarco oxpoct sucdor in tliis lonely Bj)Ot." " I have coino from a long diBtanco. I am foot- Boro with my jouriioyiiij^ over rough mads, and I thought to roach the city to-night; but my strength has failed mo, and I cannot go o!i. I did not expect aid hero on this deserted road, yet I prayed to tho Virgin, and she has heard me when 1 least hojHsd for it." " Have you friendb in Florence, and a shelter when you reach the city ? " "Alas I no, Signore, I am alone in tho world." "You cannot bo a stranger in these parts, for your speech seems to bo that of Tuscany "i" " I am a native of Florence, Signore, but I have been absent for years." ; j ,. , * " And now you would return ! " " Yes, but (t(xI ojily knows why, for I have neither kith nor kin, nor any to welcome mo." " Why did you leave your native city to seek a home among strangers ? " asked Hugo, watching her closely. " Ah 1 Signore, who can tell what prompts the human heart to seek for change 'i " " It was no misfortune, no fault then of your own ? I pray you to deal fairly with me, for I have a good reason for all I ask." " I will, Signore, for something in your manner in- irt im m m m»iiimnmm < rvn SIONOUA VIA. 113 ) city? You could B[)Ot." Htanuo. I am foot- 'oiigh i-oads, and I t ; but my etrongtli I did not oxpcut ■ot I prayed to tlio Ml I least hojHid for and a sheltor when in the world." heso parts, for your ignore, but I havo for I have neither 0." uity to seek a home atuhing her closely, prompts the humau then of your own ? for I have a good n your manner in- ,pirc8 me with contid.nco. It was a misfortune, but „ot a fault, that causfd me to U>avo Florence. « Werp you forced to quit tho city T' « No I was not forced, but 1 feared to stay ; I prny you ask me no ,noro, fur my secret is n.y own, and 1 ciuinot reveal it." « You feared to stay, and now yon daro return, how iH that 1 Does the misfortune that (paused yon to leave no longer exist T' " I know not, Signoro-1 cannot say. I bog you to nuestion n.e no more. 1 am returning m the l.ope that I am forgotten by the few who once knew me, and I think I shall not be disappointed, for my foruier self would never be recognized in the poor wayfarer before ^''" Yonr speech shows that yonr positi«'^ »M«PMM™ll&«MB»«'*^-° ii. i T 114 aiGNORA PIA. 1 am an artist, and I live alone in a little cottage yon- der with my only child, a girl of eight ycare. For some time I have needed a trusty woman to take charge of my hnmble household ; but I have always shruidi from admitting a stranger into the peaceable privacy of my home, and particularly a woman that would brawl and gossip, and run into the town, and have a crowd of relatives and followers after her; who would eat and drink and waste ray substance — for that is what a servant does — instead of being quiet, indus- trious, and frugal ; a common, coarse woman that would malce my little Lisa like herself from being so constantly with her, and who would do both her and me more harm than good. " Such as these are all that I have hitherto been able to find, and I want none of them ; but you seem of a different character, your speech is gentle and refined, and you have no relations to annoy me, and no interest in tlie city, and no motive to gossip. Therefore, if you will accept ray humble offer, I will give you food and shelter and what further I can spare, and you will in I'eturn take care of my child and keep ray house neat and clean, use your needle to fashion our garments, and in short do all you can for my intei'est. Do yon accept these conditions ? " " Thankfully and willingly, S ignore, for all I ask in this world is what you have offered me — a respectable ' v4h^«£t%U(^«IBiRl!W:^flMiB-'- h>Mi»>ffWwiriirBWifr' 1 a little cottage yon- of eight ycara. For iisty woman to take I ; but I have always r into the peaceable ularly a woman that 1 into the town, and owera after her; who y substance — for that f being quiet, indus- coarse woman that erself from being so uld do both her and ive hitherto been able ; but you seem of a s gentle and refined, y me, and no interest p. Theref oi-e, if you ill give you food and pare, and you will in I keep my house neat ishion our garments, ly intei'est. Do you jnore, for all I ask in ed me — a respectable BIQNORA riA. 115 roof to shelter me and honest labor for my hands. God surely has sent you to me in my Bore need, and I will go with you gladly." « Then let us hasten from here, for night is fast gathering, and you need food and rest," said Hugo, kindly assisting her to mount the steep ascent. She could not have gone on alone, for more than once she stopped and seemed about to sink to the -n-ound ; but the hunchback supported her feeble steps, and encouraged her to renewed eifort, until he reached the gate that opened mto his little garden. ' -« ' "Ah! this looks like home. 1 am sure I shall find peace here," said the stranger with heartfelt gratitude, as Hugo ushered her into his neat apartment that served Is sa^o«, Btudio, and dining-room. When he had brought a light, and the woman had removed her veil that partly hid her features, Hugo looked at her a moment with a close .scrutiny that evi- dently satisfied him, for he put the lamp on a table and poured her a glass of wine, which she drank eagerly, l(X)king at him with tearful, thankful eyes when she had emptied the glass. She was evidently fifty years of age, with a thin, sad face full of intelligence and gentleness, smooth gray hair combed neatly back from a frank, open forehead, quiet manners, and a low, soft voice. While Hugo went to seek some food for her, she - iijMiliH iiir n''^ '| niii iMflM i wnn umiimaiwuWT iMa e iwr wim or death. At length, the Duchess, wearied with waiting, touches a bell on the table near her, i.nd a smart Frenchwoman with keen eyes and silken speech, enters. "Lisette, ask the Duke's valet if his master is still in his chamber. I am not inclined to await his visit much longer." >- '■}'.:^" ■/?■'•,.'--■* ^'I-, ■ •■? " He is dressing, your highness, his barber is with him." " This is too disgusting ; it is midday, and other visi- tors will soon arrive ; and I wished to get rid of this hateful interview fii-st," said the Duchess to hereelf, as the door closed upon her maid. " I have not seen him for six weeks, and why shoidd 1 now? I really cannot understand why he wishes to intrude upon my privacy this morning. I suppose I must endure it, as he announced his desire for an in- terview. What can he have to say ? I wonder that he cannot communicate to me through my father, or my man of affairs. Some absurd nonsense, I suppose, about the Duke de Beaumont ; and he may as well save his breath as to waste it, for if the Duke de Beaumont mkm- tflffai'i' >Tin I trif-'TTIi .^ -^^r^l^^ ■ >"'" :5Kjf»^";-Se'iJ??*=*t£**-C»aWW*Wf -i- 120 LISA AND THE DUCHESS. %>■' contributes anything in the world to my pleasure, and if his society relieves a little the ennui that is gnawing my heart out, I shall receive him, and accept his atten- tions in spite of all the world, or the Duke of Castellara either." ' *■ At that moment there was a knock at her door, and a stately servant in scarlet and gold livery announced his highness, the Duke of Castellara. The Duchess rose with dignity, and bowed coldly. The Duke advanced and took her hand, pressing it ceremonionsly to his lips. The Duchess was the first to speak : " To what do I owe the honor of your visit this morning, Duke ? " • " Allow me to sit down, Duchess, for the laboi-s of my toilette have fatigued me ; and then 1 will answer your question." " Oh ! pray choose your own time ; at yonr age one moves slowly, and is not hurried by the impetuosity of youth," returned the Duchess with cutting sarcasm. " Thank yon ; you are inclined to be more charming and gracious than usual, this morning," replied the Duke with cool irony. " If your highness has anything of importance to communicate to me, 1 beg that you will do so ; that is, if you are sufficiently rested to endure the exertion of speech, as I expect other visitors and I should like to bo at liberty to receive them." M(H WHESS. I to my pleasure, and nnui t'lat is gnawing and accept his atten- 10 Duke of Cttstellara nock at her door, and old livery announced ira. V*->*fc«'lftS^=*^'**i^''*'^ *^'-**'***'' *' 122 LISA AND THE DUCHESS. I "I should Bay not when all Florence couples your name with your French lover." " I beg that you will not insult mc, for I am not in the mood to bear it," returned the Duchess rising sud- denly, pacing the floor rapidly, her face deadly pale, her eyes glittering ominously. " I am telling you but the truth." " Then, I pray you, select your language, for it oflfends me with its coarseness, and finish your vulgar slander as soon as possible." " I repeat again that it is not slander, that it is the result of your own folly." "Well, providing that be true, of what use to retail it to me ? I have heard the same story from your lips a dozen times before, and it makes no more impression on me than a bubble on a wall of adamant." "P'or Heaven's sake, if you have no respect for your- self have some for the name you bear ; do not drag it through the mire and dirt." " The name I bear is as hateful to me as the one who conferred it upon me by the basest deception. I re- spect neither the one nor the other, and if without ruining my own self I could blacken your name, I would make it darker and viler than the lowest pit in the infernal regions." " Truly an amiable and pleasant declaration ; but I will prevent you from disgracing me any further." 'UCUESS. Florence couples yonr It mc, for I am not in 10 Dueliess rising snd- r face deadly pale, her h." language, for it oflfends your vulgar slander as slander, that it is the , of what use to retail story from your lips a 8 no more impression adamant." e no respect for your- bear ; do not drag it to me as the one who lest deception. I re- ^ther, and if without lacken your name, I than the lowest pit in nt declaration; but I me any further." LISA AND THE DUCHESS 128 "You will never prevent me if I choose to do it When you and my father plotted «>y sacriticc, you did .ot thi..k tlmt you were turning the honey of n>y nature into gall, that you were changing a gentle and lovn.g woman into a demon of hate and scorn. Or if you thought it you did not care. You have made me a reck- less, heartless woman. Now reap the reward of your own crime." • ^ « Then you will not listen to me ; then you will not promise to break off this intimacy with de Beaumont «No 1 have told you before that 1 w.U not; he amuses'me and pleases me, and I will not be deprived of his society." , „ » 1 forbid you to receive him to-day. I am resolved. "And 1 am resolved to see him. 1 pray that you will not drive me to some disgraceful extremity." « He shall not enter my palace." "Then I will meet him clandestinely, and all the world will know that the Duke of Castellara suspects the honor of his wife, and has closed his door against ^' «ih 1 "you madden me, and I will not endure this "^ nll'n you help it. I have told you dozens of times that it waa folly for you to interfei-e with my affah-s. I leave you to go your way ; pray oblige me by giving me the same privilege." 124 LISA AND THE DUCHESS. « Do yon intend to drive with de Boaiimont to-day in the Cascino?" " I liavc made an engagement witli hitn to do ao, and I never brealc a proiniso." " Then, hy heaven, you shall break this one, for you shall not appear in public again by his side." " How will you prevent it ?" "I will kill him ! " cried the Duke, now fairly be- side himself with rage and indignation at the cold con- tempt of the Ducliess. " What folly to jnake a threat that you will not put into execution." '* Has the Duke of Castellara over had the reputation of being a coward ? Has he over suffered a rival to come between him and his honor ? I toll you if you drive today on the Cascino with the Duke do Beau- mont, before this time to-raori-ow ho will be in eter- nity." " And the Duchess of Castellara disgraced forever I for what is now only the suspicion of the evil-minded, will be then a certainty to the good and noble. De- stroy your own honor if you will, debase your own name if it suits you, but I shall drive to-day with the Duke de Beaumont. I have the honor of wishing your highness good-morning; other visitors await me," and with a haughty bow the Duchess of Castellara left the room before her husband could utter another word. UMMiaNJMM^aWBM.^ DUCHESS. ith do Boaiiinoitt to-day it with him to do so, and break tliis one, for yoii II by Jiis side." Iio Duke, now fairly be- ignation at the cold con- it that you will not put over had the reputation ever suffered a rival to lor ? I toll you if you ith the Duke do Beau- row ho will bo in ©ter- lara disgraced forever I don of the evil-tninded, good and noble. De- will, debfwo your own II drive to-day with the honor of wishing your visitors await me," and 39 of Castellara left the utter another word. LISA AND TJIfC DUCHESS. 191 When the Duchess left her husband, her heart full of an«or and hate, she f-iuul Enrico, with a troubled mid anxious face, waiting to see her. " I ftui so ghi.l y(»u are not gone out, cousin," ho said, us he tcK,k her hand and led her to a chair," for 1 have a request to nmko of you that will not ad.nit of delay. « Indeed ! what can it be that requires such unme- t diuto attention ?" "Elena, I ask you as a favor not to drive with the Duke de lieauniont to-day." "There it is, Enrico, you at last must torment me ; it is not enough to be bored to death by others, to lis- ten to my husband's folly, but you, my friond, who at least might have some consideration, you are like all the rest." . " It is beoauso I have the greatest consideration for you, Elena, that I ask this favor. You know 1 Iovq you, that I am heart and soul your friend, aud that I have no selfish interest in the matter." « Explain your reason for this singular request." "I do not wish you to drive with do Beaumont to- day, because if you do it will provoke an open quarrel between him and the Duke of Castellara, and your husband's jealousy will be the cause of it." « Thank Heaven if he is jealous at last. I have done all. I could to make him so, aud I sincerely hope he will suffer the tortures of the damned." SUim 120 irSA AND THE DU 'rffSS. * I i! I! i: " Oil, Elena 1 I pmy you not to bo so bitter. It is not only your liusbmul you nro iiijurinf?, hut it is your- self au«l all who h.vo you. 1 entreat you fur my sake, if you value my frioiidrtliip, not to go to the Ca8(;iiio today in company with the Duko do lU'auiiiont." " I have Bworn to Cafltcllam that I would drive with do Ik'aumont. I have deliod him, and 1 i-annot ehaniro my dotcrmination now. If I do, ho will think I havo yielded to his roqueat, and I woidd rather suffor any torture, any disgrace, thaii to allow him tosupposo that ho has the slightest influence over me." "Then you will not listen to mo, Elona?" returned Eurico, sadly. " And I, your host friend, have no in- fluenco with you either." The Duchess remained silent a moment, her proud face as inscrutable as a sphinx, while Enrico watched anxiously, to see if he could discover any signs of re- lenting. At length, she said firmly, "It is no use, Enrico ; as much as I love you and value your interest in mo, I cannot refuse to drive with do Beaumont to-day. I shall drive with him as I said I would, but there will be no trouble ; rest assured there will be no (piarrel at the Casciue, or no cause for it. You can trust me to keep my promise to you." " Ah ! thank you, cousin. Now I ani happier, for you have removed a heavy burden from my heart. I un- Dir 'TESS. i to bo 80 bitter. It i'b iiijiiriiij;, hilt it is yoiir- iitrout }ou for my Biiko, it to go to tho Cii8(;iiio ko do IK'iiiiiiiont." hut I wuulil drivo with in, und I cannot chiuigo u, ho will think I havo 'oiild rather Buffer nny (>w him toBiipposo that or mo." mo, Elena ? " returned best friend, have no in- ; a moment, her prond while Enrico watched iscover any signs of re- t is no nso, Enrico ; aa your interest in mo, I Beaumont to-day. I [ would, but there will •0 will be no quarrel at You can trust me to V I ani happier, for you from my heart. I un- LI8A AND THE DUGIIE38. M dor«t.uul CaHtellani's implacable nature so well, and I K„„w that when ho ha» on.-e de.-ided upon any course ..f action ho will never abandon his intention, lo-day ho has determined to prevent your being seen m the CiiHcino with do Beaumont. "That is enouKb, Enrico; now let us dismiss tin. hateful subject," said the Duchess with rising color and Uftrthing eyes. , . , . , At that moment a footman announced his lughnes. the Duke do Beaumont. An hour after tho elegant equipage of tho Dnchesa BtcKKl waiting for her in tho court of tho palace, and a footman in blue and white livery held the door open as she descended the broad .narblo staii-s, leanmg on the arm of the young Duke de Beaumont. Whe.. she was seated in her luxurious carriage, with de Beau- mont by her side, and tho servant waited in respectful silence to receive her order, he was surprised to hear her say : « Drive to San Miniato al Monte," instead of her usual direction, "To the Cascine." A moment after tho Duchess had given her instruc- tions to the footman, and before the sound of her retreat- in. wlleels had ceased to reverberate in the court, the Duke of Castellara appeared with pale face, com- pressed lips, and dogged determination in his glittermg Lb. Hastily steppl.ig into a small close carnage that drew up to the grand entmnce in obedience to an im- 128 LISA AND THE DXTGHESS. perative wave of his hand, he said, in a 4iard, husky voice : " To the Cascine, as quickly as possible." During the drive the Duchess was silent and ab- sorbed, and her companion tried in vain to arouse her from her abstraction. When at last they drew up before the church of San Miniato, and the Duchess leaving her carriage, stood for a moment on the terrace looking back at the city below her, her face softened and a long-drawn weary sigh fell on the ear of de Beaumont. - " Why are you so triste to-day, Duchess ? " lie asked as they entered the silent, sombre church, " and why have you, instead of the bright sunny Cascine, chosen to visit this gloomy spot with its tombs and shadows ? " " Because I am in the mood for tombs and shadows. I like a change. I hate sunlight, music, and laughter, always, and pi-efer, for variety, darkness and silence, but if you find it unbearable you can be driven to the Cascine, and I will remain here until my carriage returns." = " Now, Duchess, you are cruel ; you know that every place where you are is beautiful to me ; your smile, the light of your heavenly eyes make sunshine to me in the dreariest spot." " That will do, Duke, let this flattery and pretty speech-making be enough for to-day. I am not in- clined to hear it. I told you I was gloomy and preoc- OTTCRESS. said, in a 4iai'd, husky Idy as possible." 388 was silent and ab- [ in vain to arouse her at last they drew up iato, and the Duchess moment on tlie terrace her, her face softened :ell on the ear of de ', Duchess ? " lie asked lire church, " and why sunny Cascine, chosen tombs and shadows ? " or tombs and shadows. i, music, and laughter, dfivkness and silence, u can be driven to the re until my carriage I ; you know that every to me ; your smile, the ke sunshine to me in 8 flattery and pretty to-day. I am not in- va,R gloomy and preoc- LI8A AND THE DUCHESS. 129 cupied, therefore it will please me better to listen to .miver things." "Well, what shall wo discuss? religion, politics, or love?" -, ■ " Either of the former; the latter I detest, as I have told you a thousand times." « Ah! Duchess, you are most cruel. I am in tortures, one moment, daring to hope, the next, cast down to the lowest depths of despair." "Due de Beaumont, is it necessary for me to re- peat again what I have so often said ? " — ; ' . " No, no, your highness ; spare me, and I will be silent, for I cannot endure your scorn." "Then never speak to me of love. I am unac- quainted with such an emotion. I know of no other desires than those of pride and ambition." "You wrong yourself. Duchess; a sweeter, nobler heart never beat in a woman's breast." « You are mistaken, my friend, I have no heart. 1 Bometiines have impulses, and they are rarely good and unselfish." ^ i c «, « Ah! What is this?" cried de Beaumont, before the Duchess had finished her sentence. « As I live, a child asleep here on the steps of the altar." " And how lovely," said the Duchess, bending over her and strokingsoftly with trembling fingers the masses of golden hair that lay in disorder around her rosy face. & 6* / 180 LISA AND THE DUCHESS. m t W I 1! i " And she seems to be quite alone," said de Beau- mont looking at her admiringly. "I wonder how she came here? "and the Dnchess stooped still lower to hide the tears that lillcd her eyes. " Lovely innocent, sleeping here at the foot of the altar among these gloomy tombs as sweetly as though she were resting on a bed of flowers under some shady tree." ■ <■ v.-V/ At that moment the child opened her beautiful eyes, and without manifesting any astonishment, smiled in the sweet face bending over her, and said, as she raised herself on one elbow, " I was dreaming of angels, and I thought you were one." Then seeing the Duke de Beaumont, she blushed timidly and looked down. " Where did you come from, sweet child ? " asked the Duchess sitting on the altar steps by her side and twisting the rings of her soft hair around her own deli- cately gloved linger. " I live near, in the little cottage under the cypress trees, and I come here every day." " What is your name ? " " Fiordilisa, Signora, but papa calls me Lisa, because it fs shorter." " A pretty name, and it suits you well," returned the Duchess looking at her tenderly, " for you are as fair as a lily and as graceful." DUCHESS. alone," said de Beau- !re?"and the Duchess jars that lillcd her eyes. at the foot of the altar sweetly as though she ers under some shady sned her beautiful eyes, stonishinent, smiled in her, and said, as she vas dreaming of angels, Beaumont, she blushed (1, sweet child ? " asked steps by her side and lir around her own deli- tage under the cypress I calls me Lisa, because ts you well," returned derly, " for you are as LISA AND THE DUCHESS. w^*'- « Have you never seen this face before. Duchess \ » asked de Beaumont after he had gazed at the child steadily. / '., _ "Kever, that I am aware of, and yet it strikes me familiarly.'' . ";. • «l8 it not like the face of that exquisite statuette you purchased the other day on the Ponte Vecchiol" « Yes, now you speak of it I discover the resem- blance, but, I presume it is only accidental." "Probably, but it is like a copy of this face, re- turned the Duke. While this convei-sation was going on between the Duchess and de Beaumont, the child studied, with wide open eyes, the face of the lady. "Why do you look at me so, my child?" asked the Dnchess drawing her to her side. "Because it seems to me that you must be the Angel of the Church," the one papa always speaks of He has her image near the ci-ucifix, and he tells me I must love it next to the Virgin." "The Anlo intrigue, and the lovely face of that exquisite statue I saw yesterday haunts me with its serene tenderness. If the original is as fair and I can win her love, I will try, and I will be honest in my affection, if she is worthy of it." On a stone bench under a cluster of granita, flaming with its blossoms of vivid rod, sat two figures — a sallow, sad-faced, deformed man, dressed in dark clothes, plain, but exquisitely neat, and by his side a young girl of such dazzling beauty that the unfortunate creature by her side seemed in comparison a monstrous ogre. Her skin was delicately white and soft, her eyes were of violet blue, shaded with long, dark lashes, while her hair fell like dusky gold under the thick white veil thrown back from the low, broad forehead, which was pureljfc classic in its contour, uniting with the nose in the perfect Greek line that continued to the tenderly curved upper lip and short, oval chin. Her head was slightly bent above au open book that 142 THE STATUE OF AURORA. lay in her lap, and liei- slender rosy lingers turned from time to time the pages which she was reading aloud to her conii)anion, who listened with the closest attention, devouring her face all the time with his melancholy eyes that still had the same wistful, appeal- ing expression of one whose heart longs for tenderness and affection. There was something touching in the almost humble devotion and attention with which he listened to the words of the gentle reader. Her dress of dark cloth and of the most simple de- sign, fell in graceful folds from her shoulders to her feet, faintly outlining her slender young figure; a white scarf folded modestly over her shoulders formed a veil for her head, from which escaped the yellow fringes of her hair, touching with light and color her sombre attire, and producing the same effect that the old painters loved when they embroidered with golden threads the purple robes of their saints. Close in the shadow of the Fauna, Valdimer Nordis- koff caressed the face of the young girl with his ardent gaze, his admiration beaming in his eyes, which studied every outline and tint with the passionate appreciation of the artist and the lover. And the silence was only broken by the clear evening song of the birds and the low sweet voice of the girl as she read the romance of another life, little dreaming how near she was to the first page of her own. W AURORA. THE STATUE OF AURORA. 143 der rosy lingers turned } which she was reading listened witli the closest 5 all the time with his the same wistful, appeal- leart longs for tenderness iiething touching in the attention with which he entle reader. 1 of the most simple de- rom her shoulders to her lender young figure; a ver her shoulders formed Inch escaped the yellow with light and color her the same effect that the embroidered with golden leir saints. Fauna, Valdimer Nordis- jfoung girl with his ardent in his eyes, which studied le passionate appreciation ^nd the silence was only song of the birds and the as she read the romance ing how near she was to At length the liunchback, starting from his listening attitude and gently closing the book with one hand, wliile he drew the scarf closely aronnd her with the otlier, said, in a voice as tender as a mother's, " Lisa, my child, the sun is setting, the dews are falling, and the white vapor will soon hover over us with its poison- ous breath. It is not healthy here at this hour. Let us go before the sun sets." "Oh! papa, must we go so soon? I like this hour so much." " Why should yen l".ce this hour? At your age one likes midday and sunshine better than twilight and sliadows." " But 1 do not like this hour always. When the sun is high, I like to go into the gardens and see all the gay people in their carriages, dressed so beautifully, and looking so happy." " Their dress is But vanity, my child, and their looks are deceitful ; under their light manners and gay smiles they carry aching hearts." " Oh I papa, why do you think so when they do not show that their hearts ache ? " " Because, Lisa, it is not allowed to show one's real feelings in the fashionable woi4d." " But I like a glimpse of that world, nevertheless. It is beautiful on the outside, and it pleases me ; then why, dear papa, do you never allow me to remain a 144 THE STATUE OF AURORA. little while where the ci-owd are laughuig, Binging, and dancing?" « Because I like it not." « But I like it, dear," continued Lisa, with sweet persistency, while she caressed the long, thin hand that lav in hers. . , « I am sorry for it, for you have nothing to do with Buch a world, and it should have »o attractions for you. « But I cannot help it-my heart is light, 1 am young and happy, and Signora Pia says i^t is nojiarm to dance and sing when one is young and happy. ^^ « Signora Pia should not tell you such things, re- turned Ungo, with a j.. .■ - glance and rising color; « she should teach yon M^ i ^ > is too short and too serious for such folly." . '. Oh ! papa, pray do not blame Signora Pia ; she is good, and teaches me everything good ; but do not be displeased, I will not be happy if yo« do not wish it. "Hush, my darling, for God's sake; you hurt ine .ith such word. I wish you to be Wpy' ^^^^^f and truly happy, but not after the fashion of the false, wicked world. ' '^ « But a little pleasure with young companions a little music and dancing and mirth, is not the false, wicked world, papa." » Do you wish mirth and dancing and young com- j^nions, my child? " asked Hugo, sadly. AURORA. THE STATUE OF AURORA. 145 3 laughing, singing, and limed Lisa, with sweet the long, thin hand that lave nothing to do with e no attractions for you." y heart is light, I am I Pia says it is no harm young and happy." II you such things," re- liance and rising color ; i: 3 is too short and too lame Signora Pia ; she is ling good ; but do not be )y if you do not w^ish it." od's sake; you hurt me u to be happy, sincerely jr the fashion of the false, rith young companions, a d mirth, is not the false, dancing and young com- Engo, sadly. " Sometimes I do," returned Lisa, dropping her eyes and sighing lightly. A spasm of pain passed over the huncliback's pale fiico, and his eyes filled with tears, as he said, with infinite tenderness, " My Lisa, you had no such long- iiijrg when we were in the little cottage on San Mini- ato." " No, papa." " You were contented then with your poor father, your humble home, Nana and the little garden." " Yes, I loved it all dearly, and I was always happy then." " And you are not now ? " " I did not say that. I am always happy with' yon, darling," said Lisa, pressing her face against his shoulder ; " but then I had not seen this beautiful city, the gardens, the streets, and all the gay, briglit things." " And they have made you discontented with your humble lot, your quiet life, your books and the dull society of Signora Pia, and your poor fatlier?" " No, no, dear papa, I am not discontented, and I love my books and you better than ever. Am I not loath to leave this sweet story and this quiet place for the gay crowd that linger yonder ? " " But we must go, my darling, the air is poison in spite of the beauty of the hour. I too love to linger here and listen. Tommaso Grossi is sweet to my ear, 7 146 THE STATUE OF AURORA. and your voice is music itself, bnt we must leave Fol- clietto di Provenza until some other time." Reluctantly the young girl closed her book, for the sad romance of the i "■ giovan paggio • . » IH Ruimondo di ToloM " had touched her heart to the very core with a nameless yearning, with pity and sorrow for the sad fate of one BO young and brave. Reluctantly she took the arm of her father, bnt before she drew the thick veil over her face she caught a glimpse of a brown curly head and a pair of lumi- nous eyes, and a form as straight and handsome as that of the Apollo in her father's studio. For a moment her heart bounded timidly, for she thought it might be a vision of tlie young Folchetto, evoked from her admiration of his beauty and her sym- pathy for his sad fate ; but when he smiled on her with a warm, bright smile, and withdrew quickly again behind the statue, she knew he was a mortal man and no imaginary hero of romance. With the natural /nme of a woman, she undei-stood that he did not wish to be seen ; oo she said nothing to her father, but with a sigh and a backward glance, she went away in the twilight among the shadowy trees like a fair young saint leading an 6,11 spirit to heaven, f.>l- lowed by the worshipping eyes of Valdimer Nordiskoff. AURORA. nt we m\i8t leave Fol- ;licr time." osed her book, for the I Folosa" ry core with a nameless for the sad fate of oue rm of her father, bnt vcr her face she canght id and a pair of luini- liglit and handsome as r's stndio. Hindcd timidly, for she )f the yonng Folchetto, his beanty and her sym- Bn he smiled on her with rithdrew qnickly again ve was a mortal man and I woman, she undei-stood 1 ; oo she said nothing to i a backward glance, she ng the shadowy trees like evil spirit to heaven, fnl- 3 of Valdimer Nordiskoff. THE HOME IN THE VIA SAN GALLO. 147 CHAPTER X. TIIB HOME IN THE VIA SAN GALLO. |UE humble cottage nndcr the cypress trees on San Miniato was deserted. The pale face and bent figure of the hunchback was seen no more in the little garden, working in the shade of his trellis, where the vines grew so luxuriantly, nor at twilight iu the seat under the cypress, with the fair-liaired girl bending ovor a book on his knee. Nana browsed no more in peaceful content among the rocks or on the garden border, where Lisa so of ton had decked her with flowers and romped and laughed with her in childish glee ; for her poor old bones lay quietly at the foot of the gnarled olive, where her sweet mistress, with many teaw, had seen her buried, a few days before she left the beloved spot forever. The docile animal had died of old age, and when one morning, coming no more at Hugo's call, they searched for her and found her cold and stiff under the olive where she had rested her feeble limbs for many a day, they buried her there, and Lisa mourned for her as though she had been human, and even the hunchback wiped away a secret tear and said to him- 148 THE HOME IN THE VTA BAN GALLO. 6el£ sadly, " It is the beginning of change, and things will never be the same again." : Ilis words were prophetic. It was the beginning of change, for ho had already decided that he must leave the retirement of the cottage, which, on account of his increasing reputation and Lisa's young womanhood, was altogether too small for their needs. His work found such a ready sale, and his orders being more important, required greater space and bet- ter light than his little studio on the hill afforded him. Beside, he conld no longer remain unknown and hid- den from the world in his seclusion, for his genius, as well as the beauty of his model, the Lily of San Miniato, as she was called, had attracted the attention of the world to his modest retreat, and he now felt that he conld be more secluded in the great city than in the spot where ho had passed his early days of ob- scurity and poverty. After some search for a suitable place, both by him- self and Signora Pia, who had remained an inmate of his home ever since the night he had found her weep- ing under the trees near San Salvador, he at length fixed upon a roomy and commodious apartment in the Via San Gallo, that had formerly been occupied by an artist, and whose chief attraction was a vast and well-lighted studio. To this place Ilugo moved his humble household, SAN" GALLO. change, and things ras the beginning of 1 that ho tnnst leave ih, on account ot" hi9 yonng womanhood, needs. sale, and hig orders •cater space and bot- ne hill afforded him. I unknown and hid- sion, for hia genius, del, the Lily of San racted the attention •at, and ho now felt n the great city than bis early days of ob- 5 place, both by him- mained an inmate of had found her weep- ilvador, he at length ous apartment in the y been occupied by jtion was a vast and B humble household, THE HOME m THE VIA SAN GALLO. 149 not without some regret and misgiving ; for the cottage on San Miniato had become very dear to him ; there ho had passed the only happy, peacefid days he had known since his early childhood ; there he had lived in uninterrupted seclusion with his Lisa during the time of her infancy, enjoying her sweet baljyhood un- disturbed, and her first love undivided, for no one had come between them. As nnich as he liked and re- spected Signora Pia, and as faitliful and efficient as ho had found her, he was at times jealous of the young girl's affection for her, and even of the time they passed together, and never did he see Lisa lean upon the woman's shoulder, twine her arm around her neck, or lay her golden head upon the kind, motherly bosom, thiit ho did not feel a sharp pang, a pain, as though some one had stabbed him to the heart. lie tried to overcome this unreasonable feeling, for he well knew that he coidd not monopolize the affection of her ardent, loving heart, that he could not control her desires and aspirations, her romantic fancies, her vague longings after another and brighter life. " Some time," he thought, with unutteralde sorrow, " She may see another whom she will love better than the poor deformed creature, wno, after all, has no natu- j-al claim upon her heart," Again, at times, he was seized with fear that in some way she might discover that she was not his child, and ;■ { J 50 THE HOME IN TUE VIA SAN GAr.LO. if she shoiikl, what guarantee had ho that she would not hato and despise him for the deception he had practised upon her. " She must never know. I must guard my secret with double vigilance now. Oh 1 if she had been but the least like mo in color or feature, if she had been dark instead of this fair, delicate beauty, this lily-liko grace. I cannot keep her concealed from all eyes, for that in itself would cause suspicion, and when stran- gers see her, as they must some time, will they not make invidious comparisons between us ? W ^ 1 ' they not say, • How came that hideous creature by such an exqui- sitely lovely daughter ? ' And then they may suspect and investigate, and perhaps discover, for God may help them to punish the guilty. And they will say' that I am doubly criminal because I stole her for gain, that I have traded on her charms, that I have copied her matchless beauty and turned it into vile gold. O Holy Mother, thou knowest my heart, and thou know- est how I love her, and how unselfish that love is, that I have been tender and good to her, that I have taught her only what is noble and pure, that I have toiled faithfully and that 1 live only for her." At such moments, when the poor hunchback imag- ined the possibility of his seci-et being discovered, he would suffer terrible agony. If it happened that at night the though); came to him, he would arise from hia I SAK OAr.LO. id lio that sho would the doception lie had must guard iny secret 1 if she had been but iture, if she had been c beauty, this lily-liko aled from all eyes, for cioii, and when stran- ime, will they not make 18? Wil! they not say, are by such an exqui- then they may suspect liscover, for God may y. And they will say ' use I stole her for gain, ms, that 1 have copied d it into vile gold. O heart, and thou know- iselfish that love is, that her, that I have taught )ure, that I have toiled for her." poor hunchback imag- et being discovered, he If it happened that at he would arise from hia THE HOME JN THE VIA SAN GALLO. t51 hod and pace the floor of his room, trembling with a „.mele.9 dread, a sort of superstitious fear that, by some means brought about by a mysterious Providence, lus sin would be discovered and that he would lose the treasure of his life, and not only herself, but her love and respect. Lisa was his world, beyond her he saw nothing, her praise was sweeter to his ear than the m.ited voice of all creation. Her flattery, her pretty compliments, and evident satisfaction in his success, made him the hap- piest of mortals, for all he had that she could be proud of was his genius. Often he wondered if his mis- diapen body hooked as hideous to her as it did to others, or whether, always having seen hhn, she had be- come so accustomed to him that she did not notice the great difference between him and the rest of mankind. If the girl did notice and feel the misfortune of his deformity, she never showed it by word or sign, and if she had been really his child, she could not have felt a deeper devotion, a more genuine love than she did for the patient, gentle being who lavished such constant care and affection upon her. Perhaps there was something in her tender, noble nature that re- sponded to his needy, suffering soul more readily be- cause he was afflicted and despised by others. Wlmt- over the bond was between them, the girl certainly loved the hunchback with all a daughter's reverent 162 THE HOME IN THE VIA SAN GALLO. fondiiC88, never seeming to notice his ungainly person, or showing tlie slightest repulsion to a form thtit othera looked upon as altogether unlovely. " lie is so good, and has su(!h a beautiful heart, and Bueh wonderful genius, that all the world ought to admire him," she would say proudly to Sigiiora I'ia, who always agreed with her and encouraged lior in her devotion to her father. V One day tlie two sat together in Hugo's studio — Lisa on a low stool at the feet of a life-size east of Apollo, busy with some endjroidery, while Signora Pia plied her needle indnstnonsly, fashiitning a simple garment for the girl, who did not like plain, uninterest- ing work, hut something dainty and pretty, that amused as well as occupied her. '• I wish I liked to do useful things," she said in re- ply to a remark from Signora Pia, " but I do not ; it is jny nature, and I cannot change it." " Perhaps it does not matter while there is no need foi- it, but if you were obliged to, I think you would bo equal to the emergency." " I know not; 1 like only what is pleasant and beauti- ful," replied the gii'l with a sigh. "Ah, my dear child, that is wrong, for in this world we caimot have only what is pleasant and beautiful." " I know that well, Signora, for if we could I should not be sitting here iu this gloomy room, when 1 should 1 &Ly OALLO. his ungainly person, u to a form thiit otiicrs a* Ijcantiful heart, and tlio world ought to )ndly to Sigiiora Pia, encouraged hor in lier r in lingo's studio — of a lifc-sizo cast of ider}', while Signora y, fabhittning a simple like plain, nninterest- iid pretty, that amused lings," she said in re- a, " but 1 do not ; it is it." rhile there is no need 1 think you would bo is pleasant and beauti- •ong, for in tliis world asant and beautiful," r if we could I should ' room, when 1 should TIIK HOME IN THE VIA SAN OALLO. 153 like to bo out in the sunshine, among the troea and tlowcrs." "liut you cannot go to the gardens every day, my dear; you are unreasonable; why, only yesterday your l)ivpa took you to tlio Torrigiani, and you remained there until the sun went d(.wn. Now you should be contented to stay quietly at home to-day." " Ihit that is just the reason 1 am not contented to day. I am thinking all the time of how delight- ful it was then, and how dull it is now. It always seems more gloomy hero after 1 have been to the gar- dens." " That would not please your father should he hear you; nay, it would pain him deeply, for he wishes you to be happy in his society, and in the home that he labors so hard to make for you." '' Yes, it would make papa unhappy I know, for he never likes to take mo out. I see that ho is always re- luctant to go, and why should he be ? Other parents are not so." " My child, you should not complain of your father ; he knows what is best for you." " I do not complain, only I should be happier if I were not always shut up," returned the young girl with a sigh. " Now, my dear, you ai-e in a bad humor this morn- ing, and you should say iifty aves, aud then you will be i: lU TIIK HOME IN THE VIA SAN OALLO. liappior whon your pur a returns. I hc^ tlint you will not lot hlui SCO the least nhadow on your fa(^o." " Ah 1 Si^iiora, you arc always good," cried Lisa, rising iinpulsivcly and putting hor arms aroimd the woman's neck, "and I am a wicked, ungrAtcfnl girl, but 1 will not lot papa know of my discontent and complaining." *' Now you arc your sweet self, and you shall go to Vespers with me by and by, and ask the Holy Mother to strengthen your good resolution." At that moment the door opened and Hugo entered with an unusually quick stop, and a cheerful smile on his thin face, (toing straight to Lisa ho bent over her and kissed her forehead, saying, in toties of siippressed happiness and gratification, "I have pleasant news for you, cara mia. My statue of Aurora has taken the prize." «' Oh 1 papa, is it true 1 I am so glad," cried the girl, throwing her arms around her father's neck ajid kiss- ing him fondly on both sallow cheeks. " "Why, I am so proud, so happy," and then, overcome by her joy, she burst into tears. " Ah 1 now do not weep, my Lisa, or I shall regret my success, for I would not bring a tear to your sweet eyes for the honor of all the world," said the hunch- back, tenderly stroking the girl's lovely hair. "But they are tears of joy, papa; and see, they are A SAN OALLO. . I beg that you will on your fac^o." ays good," cried I^iaa, hor arms annnid the icked, uugrAtcsfiil girl, of my discontent and elf, and you bIuvII go to 1 ask the Holy Mother ion." ned and Hugo entered [id a cheerful smile on [) Lisa ho bent over her , in toties of siippressed have jjleasant news for Aurora has taken the so glad," cried the girl, father's neck ajid kiss- iheeks. " "Why, I am so ercome by her joy, she ■ Lisa, or I shall regret ing a tear to your sweet .vorld," said the hunch- I's lovely hair, papa ; and see, they are Tim llOMK IN THE VIA SAN OALLO. 155 jroi.c already," returned Lisa, holding up her face that looked as bright and frcbh as a rose washed by a siinnncr shower. .»N«.w, my child, you see how good our Blessed Mother is to us," whispered Signora Pia. "But a moment ago you were coniplaiuing because you had „o more pleasure, and see how soon happiness camo when once you renigned yourself to the will of God, and promised to bo contented with your lot." ^ ^^ " It is a great honor to receive the medal, certainly,' said Hugo, after a moment's thought, "but i wish I n.ight sell the statue at once to somo^^of these great nol)lcs who have awarded me the prize." "You will, papa; I am sure you will sell it for a great deal of umney ; you know everything you do .9 sold at once," cried Lisa hopefully. '' I was told that a rich Florentine noble, the Duko of Castellara, has asked what price I have put upon it, and has spoken highly of its ,nerits, and a Kuss.an noblo also has noticed it favorably." « You are fortunate, Signore, to receive praise from such great men," said the Signora Pia. «Tho Duko of Castellara is one high in power, and richer than any other noble in Florence, and as generous as he is nch; let us pray that he may purchase the Aurora." While Signora Pia was yet speaking there came a ring at the door, and it waB bo unusual an occurrence 156 THE HOME IN TUE VIA SAN GALLO. t that Lisa started up, flushed with delight, for she fancied one of the rich nobles that they had been speaking of had certainly appeared to offer her father a fabulous price for the statue of Aurora ; but lingo, instead of showing any satisfaction, looked around anx- iously, much like a startled animal that would conceal itself, and said, "Who has come to disturb us, I wonder? " " I dare say it is only one of the mencUcante^'' said Signora Pia, going to the door. In a moment she returned, smiling and excited. "It is a S ignore, who wishes to see you on a matter of importance." " Who dares intrude upon my privacy in this way ? " cried Hugo in sudden wrath, " Say to him, whoever he is. that I have no business with him, and that I will not see him." " Why, papa, it may be some one to buy your statue ; do not send him away without a hearing," said Lisa soothingly, greatly surprised at her father's singular manner. " lie seems an honest man," ventured Signora Pia, quite alarmed at the hunchback's pallor and agitation. " Ask him his name and business," at length said lingo, evidently trying to master his annoyance. When Signora Pia returned, she smiled triumphant- ly, and laid a soiled card before the hunchback, saying, SAIf GALLO. ith delight, for she that they had been •ed to offer her father ' Aurora ; but Hugo, II, looked around anx- il that would conceal ne to disturb us, I he jnerulicante" said railing and excited. 36 you on a matter of privacy in this way ? " Say to him, whoever I him, and that I will e to buy your statue ; 1 hearing," said Lisa her father's singular jntured Signora Pia, pallor and agitation. iness," at length said his annoyance, e smiled triumphant- le hunchback, saying, THE HOME IN THE VIA SAN GALLO. 157 " He is no impertinent intruder, as you will see, and he has come to speak about the statue." " Signor Berto — who is Signor Bcto ? " said Hugo, reading llie name aloud, "Ah! I remember; he is the copyist in the Oalleria. Well, T will see him this time ; but remember, for the future, that I do not re- ceive visitors. Tell him to enter, Signora Pia, and you, Lisa, go to your own room." / The young girl went out rather unwillingly, winfe the hunchback waited in sullen silence to receive his visitor. When Master Berto entered and Signora Pia closed the door upon, him, Hugo came forward with the most forbidding air, and curtly inquired his business. The poor little copyist, now that he had succeeded in gaining admittance to the eccentric sculptor, was as timid and frightened as he had been hopeful and bold before he entered, and the sullen maimer of the strange man did not tend to reassure him in the least, so it was with trembling and much hesitation that he finally made known his errand. " Pardon me, Signore, for intruding upon you ; but I trust my errand will excuse my seeming rudeness." " I never receive any one in my house," interrupted Hugo, with more frankness than politeness. " So I have understood, Signore, but pray listen, and you will see that my visit is not of any interest to me, but rather a favor to yourself." :J. ii :mi irtj^^ii. 158 THE HOME IN THE VIA SAN OALLO. ■ « I will jndge of that when I know your object in coming," retnrncd lingo, coldly and proudly. "Yesterday, at the Academia, I heard a Russian noble asking who you were and where you could be found, as he wished to give you a commission for a statue." Hugo's severe face relaxed a little, and he seemed to listen with interest, as Berto went on. " As no one present seemed able to give him the in- formation he desired, I came forward and told him what little I knew of you. Of course, Signore, I praised your work greatly, and said all that I could in your favor." " Thank you. I am deeply obliged to you," replied Hugo, looking at him anxiously, for he was in a hurry to have him end his communication. " The noble then requested me to arrange a time and place of meeting; therefore I took the liberty of coming to ask you what hour you would wish him to call upon you." ^^ « 1 do not wish him to call upon me at all, said Hugo, excitedly ; «I just now told you I did not re- ceive visitors." « But surely, Signore, when it is so much to your ad- vantage, you will not refuse 1 " said Berto, timidly. "Iain the best judge of that, and I will not allow strangers to intrude upon the privacy of my home." raur [4 SAN OALLO. I know your object in r and proxidly. iia, I heard a Russian id where you could be ou a commission for a little, and he seemed to ent on. able to give him the in- forward and told him Of course, Signore, I said all that I could in obliged to you," replied y, for he was in a hurry nation. me to arrange a time and I I took the liberty of you would wish him to .1 upon me at all," said w told you I did not re- 1 it is so much to your ad- " said Berto, timidly, hat, and I will not allow privacy of my home." THE HOME IN THE VIA SAN GALLO. 159 « T"';en where may I tell him tliat you will meet him ? " " Is it absolntely necessary that I should meet this man ? I dislike much to meet strangers ; my infirmity and my ill-health make it painful," said Ilugo, as if to apologize for his seeming rudeness. « I understand, Signore, but he is decided to have an interview with you ; there are certain conditions that he wishes to make with you personally." « Very well, you can say to him that I will meet him to-morrow at two o'clock, in the north room of the AcademiaP " Thank yon, Signore. I am obliged to you for yonr kindness," and the little copyist hastened to the door, thankful that the disagreeable interview was over. " If I have seemed inhospitable and rude, I beg that you will pardon me," said Hugo, with more gentleness than he had shown during the interview ; " but I am not like other men ; to be polite, I cannot be untruth- ful, therefore my lips say what my heart dictates ; and believe me, though my manners are ungracious, I am none the less thankful to you for your interest and trouble in this matter." « It has been no trouble, Signore, I am happy to serve you." And Berto went away with the impression that, after iii ! II'"" Ik • ICO THE HOME IN THE VIA SAN GjiLLO. all, the hunchback was not as disagreeable as ho had thought him at first. " Here he comes, Signore ; now is our chance to 8])cak to him. You stand aside a little, please, and I will speak to him first, for, although he expects to me«3t you, he is as shy as a wild beast, and might run oif, after all, without waiting for the interview ; then our only sure opportunity of meeting him would bo lost, and I had so much trouble to get admitted to his house, and more to get him to promise to meet you ; ho is a most singular character, as yon will see for yourself." Count Valdimer Nordiskoff and Berto stood in the north room of the Academia waiting for Hugo, who approached them slowly, coming out of the shadow of an inner room into the broad light that streamed on him from a lofty window. He was very pale, and his eyes wei-e cast down as though they were weighted with unshed tears, while his thin hands were clenched together tightly, for he was trying to control his natural timidity and dislike to meeting strangers. The unfortunate man started like a frightened deer, as Berto approached him, and looked around as though he would j-ather retreat than advance ; however, contnjl- ling his feelings, after a moment, with a wan smile, he THE HOME IN THE VIA SAN GALLO. 161 'A SAN OjiLLO. disagreeable as ho had now is our chance to de a Httle, please, and ilthough he exjiects to Id beast, and might run 'or the interview ; then meeting him would bo J to get admitted to his promise to meet you ; sr, as you will see for and Berto stood in the waiting for Hugo, who s out of the shadow of light that streamed on 3ye8 were cast down as I unshed tears, while his thor tightly, for he was timidity and dislike to [ like a frightened deer, looked around as though ^ance ; however, controrauco of the great bright world beyond those fiiiir dingy walls. At times she longed again for the little garden and vineyard on San Miniato, the seat under the cypress trees, the old convent garden, which was now turned into a cemetery, and the distant view of the hills, with the lovely city below. v Now the only change or pleasure she over enjoyed \\;i8 on these rare occasions when, closely veiled like a nun, she went out into the bright noisy street with Sig- iiora Pia to a neighboring church, or with her father to some of the gardens, where, from a secluded spot, she could SCO the trees and flowers and listen to the sing- ing of the birds. Such hours were like glimpses of Paradise to her, bIio was so happy there ; and why could she not go often ? Why was it that her father, who loved her so tenderly, who was so patient and gentle to her, who taught her all she knew, who clothed and fed her so daintily, could dojiy her this simple pleasure that her heart craved so strongly — freedom and the society of human beings like hei-eelf, young and beautiful and happy ? She had lived all her life in the company of cold, dumb marble and clay, and had seen little that waa m LISA'S nO}rANCFJ. l)fciuitifiil pavo hornolf, and Hh« wart not nwaro how lovely hIh! was, but nticoiiHcioualy admired lior own fliiirniH in tlu- productions of her father^ goniua. That day in the i^Midt-n, for tlio firrtt tinus in her life, Bho had bi'iMi attracted to a handnonio living? face, and it haunted her ineessuntly. Slic ?;-.»v it before her, wakinj,' or tileepiiijj;, alone or with otherH ; it was always before her, and nhe could not biiiUHh it. To-diiy was nfeuf't, and she h;id hoped, with a trem- bliuf,' hope, that her father inijj;ht grant her the pleas- m-o she bo ardently desired, though she did not dare ox- press it, and take her again to the garden where sho nii«'ht 800 that handsome face looking at her from bo- hind the statue of Fauna, 80 sho waited anxiously for the hunchback's return, while the slow hours seemed to drag pitifully, for he lingered longer than nsual on this day when she was most impatient for his coming. At length she heard his step, and her lovely, wistful eyes sought his face anxiously as he entered, for she saw that something uncommon had happened, and that he was strangely excited. « What is it, dear papa ? " she asked eagerly, rising and taking his hands tenderly in hers, and holding up her face for his accustomed kiss. But instead of the gentle caress sho had always re- ceived, he clasped her in his arms pasaionately, and, "^•we^. I ilWllWltwrlfn-M* CK. its A' a nOMANVli. ir.9 wart not ftwaro liow sly luliiiirod her own fiith(Ji-'H goiiius. tii'rtt tiino ill her life, Isoiiio liviiij^ fiKU!, niin the bench whoro she had been sitting, lie hell! her to his liuurt, sobljln^ and weeping in a liort o'. delirious joy. Lisa was alarmed, and disengaging herself from his ciiihraco, siio cried : " Toll me, pray tell mo what has liappencdl You weep, and yot you Bcom more joyful tiiaii sorrowful." '• (iod 1)0 thanked ! " at last said Hugo, making a supremo effort to eoiitrol his emotion. " 1 am over- coiiio with happiness, and I scarce know what I say; but God bo thanked that now my desire is roalizod. ily fortune has come, and wo arc rich." " Rich, papa ! What can you mean ? " " 1 mean that we aro rich, Lisa. That at last wealth crowns my labor, and you, my lovo, my trcasiiro, shall have it all. It is for you, to make you hajipy. Wo will go away from here, away from this great noisy city, and find a homo in a forest among the hills wlicro no ono will como to disturb us, and whero tho llowers will always bloom and tho birds will always sing." "Tell me, darling, for I do not understand you. What fortune has como to you ? " and she l(X)ked into her father's eyes with eager questioning, while sho stroked his dark cheek tenderly. " It is ten thousaud acudi. Think of it— ten thou- sand acudi ! " 8 w. ij r il i W'iW rr Bjw'i - M«n ii ii i lMI»i ii fr ii«: 170 LiaA*S ROMAHfts. Is k " Madre di Die ! ten thousand scudi^'' echoed the girl, half alarmed at her father's strange excitement, and fearing that he was no longer in his right mind. " Is it yonrs ? Have yon all that money ? " " I am to have it, my angel." " How, in what way, papa 1 " cried Lisa, more and more bewildered. "I have but just now come from the Academia, whither I went to meet a rich Russian noble, and lie has engaged me to make a statue of Hebe for him, for which lie is to pay me ten thousand soudi. Do you understand, my child, that that is a fortune to us?" "Tes," she gasped breathlefisly. "Yes, I ti.der- Btand that it is a great sum of money, and that it will make you rich and famous." "And you happy, my Lisa, in our home in the forest." "But why leave Florence?" she said eagerly. " Wliy seek a home away from our lovely Arno ? We can find happiness here surely," and she sighed as she thouffht of the handsome face she had seen in the Torrigiani garden. Her fathe: did not reply to her question ; but hold- ing her away from him he gazed at her long and searchingly. He was calm now and there were no traces of sobs or tears. His sudden emotion had >usand acudi^^ echoed the ther'e strange excitemeiit, longer in his right mind, that money ? " ; el." a ? " cried Lisa, more and orae from the Academia, ich Russian noble, and lie , statue of Hebe for him, ten thousand sctidi. Do that that is a fortune to thlefisly. " Yes, I ti.der- of money, and that it will jisa, in our home in the ice?" she said eagerly, om our lovely Arno ? We jly," and she sighed as she Pace she had seen in the to her question ; but hold- le gazed at her long and » now and there were no Bis sudden emotion had LISA'S ROMANCE. 171 vanished and a sullen expression had settled over his dark features. At length he said, coldly : " Have you not always wished for the flowers, and trees, and birds ? " " Yes, papa. I love nature, and everything beautiful and bright." " And have you not always entreated me to take you away from these gloomy rooms into the open air and sunshine?" ,? ^ v . v- " Yes," she replied again, with a little hesitation ; " but we need not leave Florence to find these, they are in all the gardens." The hunchback sighed heavily, as he drew her face down to his shoulder with motherly tenderness, and as he stroked the yellow threads of her hair ho said, in a voice of mingled sorrow and pity : " My heart aches for you, my child, because I cannot make you happy as you wish. It is not trees, and birds, and flowers, and all beautiful things in nature that your hungry heart longs for, it is the world with its pomp and vanity, its falsehoods and cruelty, its hollow joys, its certain sorrow, its human beings, young, happy, and beautiful, that my Lisa desires and loves ; and ner unfortunate father loves them not." " Oh 1 papa, why should you not love what God has created ? " " My child, once I adored my fellow-creatures. I MiraimMmiiii 172 LISA'S ROMANCE. *| .1 worehipped their comeliness. I longed for their sym- pathy and affection ; but, in return, they gave me scorn for my adoration, and loathing for my love ; they thrust mo out from everything good ; they turned my gentle nature into gall ; they taught me that those whom God afflicts humanity does not pity, and now I hate all man- kind and regard them all as my enemies ; therefore, I would hide my only treasure away in the heart of a forest, where none can find her, or rob mo of her." " No one can rob you of nie, dear papa. Wliy do you speak of that always ! Why do you fear it ? Am I not your child, your own Lisa ? Then, who can take me from you 1 " The hunchback did not reply, but, trembling visibly, he started up and began pacing the large room with rapid strides. Lisa watched him anxiously for some moments, and then, going softly to him, she twined her arm in his, and raising her sweet face said coaxingly : " I have vexed you, caro mio. Forgive me, and kiss me, and smile on me as you do when you love me." Hugo stooped, and pressed his lips to her forehead and cheek with sorrowful fervor, but saic. nothing. " Do not be sad on this day of all others," she con- tinued, clinging to his arm, and, joining him in his walk. " It is &fe8ta, and besides it is the day of your good fortune, and we ought to be very happy." r,j«^Aaaa^a ii*8 ii »w«K -' tANGE. I longed for their syra- Btnrn, they gave me scorn ; for my love ; they thrust ; they turned my gentle me that those whom God ■, and now I hate all mau- my enemies ; therefore, I I away in the heart of a or, or rob mo of her." me, dear papa. Why do rVhy do you fear it ? Am sa ? Then, who can take >ly, but, trembling visibly, cing the large room with [y for some moments, and e twined her arm in his, said coaxingly : " I have ve me, and kiss me, and you love me." I liis lips to her forehead vor, but saic'. nothing. ay of all others," she con- , and, joining him in his isides it is the day of your to bo very happy." LISA'S ROMANCE. 173 « It is you, my darling, who are not happy, and it grieves me because I cannot make you so." « But you can, caro mio ; you can make me the hap- piest girl in Florence. Do you remember tlat you promised to take me to the garden on this festa f It is now near the hour. Shall we go?" Her father hesitated a moment, and then, noticing her look of eager anxiety, he said reluctantly : " If you wish it so much, I have no heart to deny you. Flit on your thickest veil and we will go." Lisa darted away to lier little chamber, as light and radiant as a sunbeam, and while she was arraying her- self witli more than usual care, Hugo recounted his good fortune to Signora Pia, who had returned in time to hear the welcome news before Vespers, where she intended to go and thank God devoutly for his mercy and favor to her master. When Lisa and her father reached their accustomed seat near the graiiita tree, her first timid glance sought the statue of Fauna to see if the handsome face was there; but no-much to her disappointment she saw only the waving branches and the blue sky be- yond, and her heart sank heavily, for suddenly it seemed as though the sunlight was less bright, the flow- ers less fair and fragrant, and nature less beautiful than she had thought it when she first entered the garden. 174 LISA'S ROMANCE. The distant voices of the crowd, and the merry laxighter of the children sounded harsh and discordant on her ear, and she almost wished that she was iu the silence and retirement of the studio, which she had found so wearisome in the morning. Her father seemed absorbed in gloomy reflections, perhaps it was a premonition of the shadow that would so soon fall upon his life, and the poems of Tommaso GroE.si were not as sweet as thej had been the day be- fore. It was her first great disappointment, and she could scarce restrain her tears. "After all," she thought, as the afternoon wore away, and the eagerly-longed-for face did not appear behind the statue, " it could not have been a human being. 1 must have fancied I saw some one, or it was a vision, for the face was too beautiful to be real. Ah 1 me, why did it come to haunt mo forever, if 1 can see it no more ? " At last, restless from hope deferred, she arose, and leaving her book upon the bench, she took her father's arm and together they strolled into a lonely, unfrequent- ed path, each silent and absorbed, each hoping and dreading they scarce knew what. As they passed along under the overhanging trees, some one stepped out of th? shadow of a thicket and walked away rapidly with his finger on his lip as if to enjoin silence. Lisa had but a glimpse of him, and Hugo saw him not, for if he 'ANGE. crowd, and the merry led harsh and discordant shed that she was in the B studio, which she had rning. ;d in gloomy reflections, of the shadow that would the poems of Tommaso icy had been the day be- disappointraent, and she 1. , as the afternoon wore -for face did not appear not have been a human I saw some one, or it was )eautif ul to be real. Ah ! ; mo forever, if 1 can see I deferred, she arose, and psnch, she took her father's [ into a lonely, unf requent- (sorbed, each hoping and lat. As they passed along some one stepped out of walked away rapidly with enjoin silence. Lisa had ugo saw him not, for if he Llf^AS ROMANCE. 176 had he would have instantly recognized Count Valdiiner NordiskofE. But the rapid glance, the smile, the motion of his head, were all familiar to the girl. It was the hand- some face that had haunted her night and day ever since she fii-st saw it, and her heart throbbed so tumult- nously with joy that she could hardly walk steadily or control her voice to reply to a question her father asked her at that moment. When they returned to their seat the hunchback sank down wearily, and covering his face with his hands, aa was a habit with him, he seemed in deep thought and lost to all around him, as though he were revolving some important question in his mind, some subject that required the deepest deliberation. Lisa watched him anxiously, dividing her attention pretty equally between the bent figure at her side and the battered statue of Fauna ; but her father still re- mained silent, and the trees still waved their fantastic arras against the blue sky, and no warm, admiring glance met her searching gaze, that turned again and again hopefully to that spot, where her first romance had dawned upon her. At length she took up the neglected romance of another life, and, turning the pages abstractedly, a fold- ed Blip of paper attracted her notice. It was between the pages where she had been reading, and suddenly mm 176 LISA'S liOMANGE. she Veniornbored tliat it was not there when she laid the book down. Glancing at her fatlier to see if she waa obsorvod, she unfolded it with trembling fingers, and read : " I love you, and I must see yon. To-morrow, at Ave Maria, I will be in the Church of Sau Marco, and I shall look for yon in the Chapel of the Sacrament." Bewildered and trembling, she thrust the paper into the bosom of her dress, and closing the book, she said, " Come, papa, do you know the sun is nearly down ?" Hugo looked up like one awakening from a dream, and, rising, he gave his daughter his arm silently, and together they walked away, absorbed in their own thoughts. Hugo was trying to find some means of evading the agreement ho had made with Count Valdi- mer, in regard to his visiting his studio ; somo way to guard his treasure more closely until he had completed the statue, and then lie determined, in spite of his daughter's objection, to find some other home where there would be less chance of his secret being dis- covered. And Lisa, trembling under the burden of her fii-st secret, happy and yet fearful, her whole soul thrilling with the joy the words had given her, though she only half understood their meaning, was already planning some way by which she might evade her father's 'ANOE. »t there when she laid the fatlier to see if she waa li trembling fingers, and To-morrow, at Ave Maria, I and I shall look for yon in the she thrust the paper into osing the boolc, she said, 3 sun is nearly down ?" wakening from a dream, iter his arm silently, and absorbed in their own to find some means of t made with Count Valdi- his studio ; somo way to y until he had completed ermined, in spite of his some other home where of his secret being dis- r the burden of her fii-st , her whole soul thrilling Lven her, though she only ig, was already planning light evade her father's LISA'S ROMANCE. 177 watchful eyes, so that she could meet her hero of ro- iiiance, as he had requested, in the Church of San Marco at Ave Maria the next day. Her first thought on awakening the next moming was of the communication she had received, and the means to be used to gain permission from her father to go without him to Vespers. Occasionally he had allowed her to accompany Signora Pia, but not often, and she feared to express a wish in that direction, lost it might excite his suspicion, which seemed strangely alive at this time to any indication of preference on her part. If Signora Pia would only proix)se it, it would render the matter easy ; but the morning passed away without the pious woman making any allusion to the church services, and Lisa saw the hour approach with terrible anxiety and uncertainty. Her father had already begun his new order, and the statue of Hebe, though but a shapeless mass of clay behind the red curtain where Hugo worked, was nevertheless a commencement, and for the time ab- sorbed all his attention. Lisa sat with her erabroideiy at the feet e£ Apollo, and watched the shadows on the floor grow longer and longer with a trembling, fainting heart, when suddenly Signora Pia laid aside her knitting, and taking her veil and shawl, she declared her intention of going to 8* '1 ' 178 LISA'S BOMANCB. Vespers ; as she was leaving the room she tnmed and said: 1 n J « Slgnorina, have you been to chnrch to thank God for His goodness to yonr father % " « No, Signora, I have not yet been," replied Lisa, trembling with impatience to hoar her next rou\ark. « Then pnt on yonr veil and eome with me to San Marco; for it is not well to forget God in our pros- perity." The girl did not wait for a second bidding; and when they entered the gloomy old church, instead of following Signora Pia to the high altar where the lamps were burning, she slipped into the chapel of the Sacrament It was empty and in deep shadow. Fall- xari?na donna did not claim their attention. On the right of the royal party was another box, scarcely inferior in size and brilliancy of decoration, TIIK OPLIRA. II ploiiRod with your aiii- ir father will bo anxious. knees, holding the note wed the old woman out the penitent and sinful AN KVENINQ AT THE OPKRA. 181 [I XII. THE OPERA. 5 opera night at La Per- i were rushing in to hear I in " La Favorita." The ited, and hung with crim- while a crow n of flowers ,nd garlands and bouquets rural bower. The Grand rilliant uniforms-, sat under and laughing gayly, when i\\Qjprima donna did not il party was another box, i brilliancy of decoration, and in it sat the Duchess of Cantollara, surrounded by tho most distinguished men in Florence. Time hail dealt kindly with her, and though she was M(. longer young, she was still considered tho most lovely woman in Italy, for the fame of her beauty had spread beyond her native city, and wherever she went «lio was surrounded by a train of admirers selected fn.m tho hcaux > sprits of society. iSlio hod never looked moro beautiful than she did on this night, llcr dres?, apalo green satin, set off tlio rare pallor of her skin, which was as white as tho petal of a lily, save where a delicate flush cumo and wont on bt-r 8t)ftly rounded cheek. Her eyes, under their long, dark laches, seemed to glow and burn like deep fires, unextinguished by time or tears, and tho rich gold of )ier hair had lost none of its burnished lustre, while a tender smile, strangely sweet, and almost happy, trem- bled from time to time around her lovely mouth. She was listening to some low-spoken words from Valdimer Nordiskoff, who sat behind her chair, his handsome head close to hers, and his fine eyes studying her face admiringly. « There, that will do," she said at length, tapping him reprovingly with her fan, "you have monopolized me quite long enough, and Baron Loder is greou with jealousy." « Bahl let tho heavy German wait ; he is slow enough "^l- itt AN EVENING AT THE OPERA. to tarry any length of timo for a wo'd or a lo tlie Duchess, look- I could still en- imer," replied the Duchess with a low thrill of happiness in her voice, and a warm flush on her cheek. " Only to-day I have tliought and dreamed of it, as I never have before. I know not why, but Bome new life, some new confidence has taken possession of me, and I feel that I may yet be happy, that 1 may yet be your wife, if only you are patient and faithful. I have been a cold, vain, cruel woman, and my life so far has been a bitter failure, but it is not too late to redeem the past. I will be bet- ter, more gentle, more womanly. I will try and kill my anger and hate for those who wronged me so. I will endeavor to obtain pardon from God for my anger against my father, who died without my forgive- ness ; I will change ray manner of life, I will think of something besides fashion and folly, and you shall love and esteem me more than ever before." Count Valdimer looked with wonder at the Duchess. She seemed to him a revelation, a new being — she, usually so cold, so proud, so reticent, to become so gen- tle and womanly and almost humble in her affection for him. What could have wrought the change ? and at the very time, too, when he was less devoted, less af- fectionate than he had ever been since he laid his heart at her feet. As he looked into her flushed, happy face and beaming eyes, he felt the guiltiest of traitors, for had he not been dreaming and thinking night and day of another ; had he not been trying by every means to AN EVENING AT THE OPERA. seo his new charmer, to pour into her innocent young heart the story of his love, a love that he had already pledged solemnly to another, and which, in honor and truth, as a gentleman, he was hound to respect as some- thing more sacred than an ordinary intrigue with a woman of fashion. The Duchess of Castellara, the proud, the beautiful, the courted Duchess, really loved hin), had really given him her heart in all sincerity, and with womanly confidence was patiently waiting nntil God removed the barrier between them to become his happy, honored wife. And now that the consximtnation he had desired so long and that he had sworn a thousand times was the dearest, the most sacred wish of his heart, was, by her own confession, possibly to be realized, he shrnnk from it with a guilty consciousness of deception and dishonor. Another, a young, unknown girl, the daughter of a poor deformed artist, had won his treacherous heart away from the noble, beautiful woman at his side, and he was overwhelmed with contrition and shame. While the Duchess was waiting for him to reply to her earnestly-spoken words, and while his thoughts were wandering in this labyrinth of self -con tempt, doubt, and regret, he raised his eyes accidentally to a small box in the third tier, usually occupied by the middle class of well-to-do Florentines, and there he caught a glimpse of a face, a young, angelic face 'E OPERA. hei" innocent young that he had already which, in honor and nd to respect as somc- iiary intrigue with a ss of Castellara, the Duchess, really loved ,rt in all sincerity, and itiently waiting until 1 them to become his ju he had desired so nsand times was the lis heart, was, by her zed, he shrunk from it ^option and dishonor, the daughter of a poor iacherous heart away at his side, and he and shame, g for him to reply to 1 while his thoughts th of self -con tempt, syes accidentally to a ally occupied by the jntines, and there he . young, angelic face AN EVENING AT THE OPERA. 187 framed in masses of pale yellow hair, that instantly changed the current of his thoughts and brought him back to the emergency of the moment. The Duchess, by a singular chance, raised her eyes at the same moment, and she too saw for an instant a face that touched a long silent chord in her heart. A swift pallor passed over her cheek, aiid the hand that held her jewelled fan trembled visibly, while Valdimer started so suddenly and colored so vividly that she at once noticed his agitation, although, with the ready tact of a quick-witted woman, she resolved not to appear to observe him ; but she remembered the face for more tlian one reason, and when she saw it again, she looked at it with different eyes, and different etnotions, for her soul was a prey to jealousy, hate, and revenge, and she would willingly have annihilated the innocent object of her contempt with one haughty glance of her eyes. Happily for both Valdimer and the Duchess, at that moment the prima donna began an aria, and in spite of their deep emotion they could not refrain from listening, or at least appearing to; but in reality both were making a supreme effort to recover their calm- ness and self-control. " Do you see the Duke in the opposite box glaring at lis ? " asked Valdimer, as the last sweet notes of the song died on the perfumed air. >mmm* 188 AN EYENINO AT THE OPERA. "YcB, I 800 him," returned tho Dnchoss, in her nsnal cahu voice ; " but it does not disturb me, I am accnstoined to it." "lie notices that our conversation has been moro confidential than is judicious in public, and ho is irritated." " Since yon have suddenly become so prudent, had you not better give your chair to the Baron ? I am sure you have kept him waiting quite long enough," said the Duchess, in her iciest tones. " There you mistake me, Duchess," replied Valdi- mcr, with some annoyance. " I am not needlessly prudent, I can assure yon, for the Duke has been in a very bad humor lately. He has insulted me several times recently in public, and I have endured it rather than quarrel with him." " Thank you, how considerate 1 " returned the Duch- ess, haughtily. " I pray that you will not deny your- self satisfaction on my account." " That is enough, Elena. 1 will remember what you have said," and Valdimer, rising, bent over her so low that no one could hear his words. " You are an enig- ma to mo. A moment ago you wore a woman, now yon are the Duchess of Oastellara, so I will wish you good-evening, and give my seat to some one more for- tunate than myself." The Duchess did not raise the long lashes that IE OPERA. tho Dnchess, in her lot disturb me, I am ation has been more 11 public, and he is some BO prudent, had to the Baron ? I am quite long enough," les. liess," replied Valdi- [ am not needlessly e Duke has been in a insulted me several kve endured it rather " returned the Duch- I will not deny your- II remember what you bent over her so low " You are an enig- were a woman, now a, so I will wish you o some one more for- the long lashes that ■"' '\~ AN EVENING AT THE QPEILi. 189 rested on her pale cheeks, but bowed coldly to Valdi- nior, as she turned to welcome the Gorman Baron who slipped into the Count's seat the moment he vacated it. " I thought your friend was about to monopolize you for the evening, Duchess. I waited patiently for Nordiskoff to go, so tliat I might have a word with you, and before I could get to your side, that great German itear slipped into the place I was dying to reach." The speaker was Enrico, as handsome and kind as ever, though he was no longer the ardent, hot-headed youth, who, in the beginning of our story, had sworn eternal devotion to his sweet cousin. lie was now a grave, quiet man, of a singularly pure life and noble character, and none the less the devoted friend and ad- viser of the Duchess. "Yon are always welcome, cousin, and Heaven knows I would much rather have had you here this last hour, for I have been wearied to death with the senseless chatter of one and another," said the Duch- ess, ki'ily giving him her hand. " Wii^; ■■■, you do not mean to tell me that Lodei-'s grave, deliberate words, and Valdimer's confidential talk was all senseless chatter?" asked Enrico, leaning over her chair and fixing his eyes earnestly on her face. " No, perhaps not ; Loder is sensible enough, but to- ,j-- If 190 AN EVENING AT THE OPERA. iiiglit he iias nlinoat put me to aloop, and Valdimor wuB BO grave and abstracted that ho annoyed mo, and I showed it, BO ho loft mo in a bad liunior, and that spoiled everything ; even the voice of tho prima dotma Bonnded liarsh and discordant uftorward. Enrico, I BometimcB think that I have an evil spii'it in me, that forces mo to bo cruel and cold and haughty when I most want to be womanly and gentle. I came to the opera to-night light-hearted and happy, which is a now experience with mo ; but a little thing, a simple thing, brought back my evil spirit, and I have lost all the good I gained." " May I ask what caused your vexation, Elena ? " " Certainly, cousin ; you know I always open my heart to you as I do to no other, and I have never con- cealed from you my affection for Nordiskoff." A pained, anxious expression passed over Enrico's face, but he said nothing, and the Duchess went on: " Lately, I have had the faintest suspicion that he is growing weary with hope deferred, and tired of the nameless bond between us. O Enrico ! this waiting for dead men's shoes is something terrible." " Oh, Duchess ! for Heaven's sake do not speak so lightly on such a subject. How can you thus count away the days of Castellara's life ? He is an old man, it is true, but he may outlive you for all that." " Why does my remark seem to shock you, Enrico f HE OPERA. AN EVENING AT TUB OPERA. 191 t aleop, and Valdimer b lio annoyed mo, and bad liunior, and that ce of i\\o 2>i'iina donna afterward. Enrico, I an evil spirit in mo, old and haughty wliou id gentle. I camo to and happy, which is a little thing, a simple rit, and I have lost all vexation, Elena ? " iw I always open my and I have never con- for Nordiskoff." A 3d over Enrico's face, Ihichess went on: It suspicion that he is rred, and tired of the Enrico! this waiting g terrible." sake do not speak so 7 can you thus count B ? He is an old man, 1 for all that." to shock you, Enrico f Have I over made any socrot of my hate fc^r the man, that was forced upon ino by the vilest deception — of my hope that God would one day free mo from a bond that I have endured as well as I could? I never professed the least affection or esteem for Cjistellara. lie is my husband only in name. Then why should I conceal from you my desire to bo froo from him, that I may l)ecoino the wife of the man I love?" " Aro you sure, Elena, that you love Nordiskoff — that you would become his wife if you were free ? " " Quito sure, and it is my dearest wish ; but who knows M hether it will ever bo realized ? " " Pray, do not dwell upon such a thought. It is wrong, my dear cousin. Trust the future to God, and do your duty for the present, leaving Nordiskoff en- tirely out of the question." " How can that be, since I care for him, and suffer to see him wasting his youth in such a hopeless love." " That is it, cousin ; you wrong him, and you wrong yourself." " Good Heavens 1 Enrico, would you advise me to give him up I " " I would. It is best for you that yon should." " Ah 1 those are the same words you said six years ago, in regard to my friendship for the Duke do Beau- mont, and I listened to you then. I gave him up. 1 sent him back to France half broken-hearted, for the iWliiM IM AN KVENlNa AT TUE OPKHA. poor follow really lovod mo ; but it cowt mo iiotlilnj^ to Bepunito from him, for my heart waa not the luntit in- volved. I never cared for him, and I did It to pleaBO you, and Bilenue the venomous tongue of the world ; but thiu is another matter. I lovo Valdimcr," and the Duchess, overcome by hor feelings, brushed a tear from off her burning cheek, and turned hor head away tliat no one could witness her emotion. " When did you see tho Duko last ? " asked Enrico, after a moment's pause. " I do not remember. I think I have not spoken to him for some months, and ho certainly has not entered my box for a number of weeks." " Do you 800 nothing portentous in his avoiding you 80 continually in public ? " " I have not thought of it. I know that he has been constantly in tho society of Ferdinand's discarded mis- tress, who has gone over to the other party and is working against her former lover, and that on account of this Castellara has lost tho favor of his Uigh ness." " Then you had not heard that Ferdinand dismissed tho Duke from his service to-day ? " " No, I had not, and if it is trae I rejoice, for I have spared no pains to ruin him with tho Grand Duke." " Elena, pray do not bo so vindictive. He is an old man and this dishonor maddens him ; ho knows that, UN OfKHA. ; It ami mo notliing to vvuH nut tlio lunat in- nud I did it to ploaBU toiiguo of tlio world ; Vtildimcr," and the ing8, brushed a tear turned lioi* houd away otion. last ? " askod Enrico, : I have not spoken to tainly has not entered 13 in his avoiding you snow that he has been inand's discarded mis- le other party and is r, and that on account favor of his Uigh- Ferdinand dismissed 3 I rejoice, for I have the Grand Duke." lictive. He is an old him ; he knows that, AN BVENINO AT THE OPERA. 103 in a measure, it is your work and he is desperate, and will revenge himself on Nordiskoff." A dreadful pallor passed over the face of the DiKihoss, but she said bravely, " I do not fear him. I iiivo heard his threats before." " lie will insult Valdimcr and force him to fight." " As ho thrcatened to do with the Duko do Beau- mont." " It is different now ; he is a disgraced man, and he has nothing to lose." A vindictive joy sparkled in the Duchess's eyes, and her voice had a ring of triumph in it as she exclaimed : " I have kept my vow. 1 swore to bo revenged on CostcUara for my ruined life, and at last I see my hour drawing near. Who knows but that this may be the end of my bondage ? for if he challenges Nordis- koff, his death is certain, and my freedom assured." " Hush, Elena, hush, for Heaven's sake," said Enrico, bending over her. " You forgot where you are ; you are excited and nervous ; yon are not yourself ; come, allow me to take you home." Without the least resistance she allowed Enrico to wrap her cloak around her and lead her to her car- riage ; and when there, and the door closed, she leaned her head on her cousin's shoulder and wept long and bitterly. While this acene was going on with Enrico in the 194 AN EVENING AT THE OPERA. ■5 1 i! i box of the Duchess of Castellara, Count Valdimer Nor- diskoff sauntered slowly up to the third tier, where he found an empty box, which lie entered, and con- cealing himself behind the curtain, he fixed his eyes on the loggia opposite, where, in the shadow of the drapery, he could discover the bent form of Hugo, and near liim, her face radiant with delight, his daughter Lisa. It was the fii-st time in her life that the young girl had ever listened to an opera, although she had en- treated her fatlier repeatedly to allow her to enjoy that happiness, if only for once; but he had always refused her decidedly, telling her that it was no place for the poor and lowly, especially for one afflicted as he was — who had no desire to flaunt his deformity in the eyes of tbe proud and fashionable. To such rea- soning she could find no answer, for she underatood how sensitive her unfortunate father was, and how cruel it would be to force him into a position where he must suffer intolerably to give her a pleasure ; so for some time she had not spoken of 'it ; but, in spite of her silence, she desired it all the same. One day it occurred to Hugo, after he had watched the girl iiaiTOwly, that some change had come over her. She was pale and silent, and her eyes often looked as though she had wept in secret ; or she was restless, feverish, irritable, her appetite failed, and she lost her n H fi li u ti tl d a si P r( mE OPERA. ,, Count Valdimer Nor- ) the third tier, where he entered, and con- tain, he fixed his eyes in the shadow of the ent form of lingo, and delight, his daughter fe that the young girl although she had en- to allow her to enjoy o; but he had always er that it was no place illy for one afflicted as flaunt liis deformity in ion able. To such rea- er, for she underatood father was, and how I into a position where ^ive her a pleasure ; so n of 'it ; but, in spite of } same. , after he had watched hange had come over d her eyes often looked it ; or she was restless, iailed, and she lost her AN EVENING AT THE OPERA. 195 interest in her father's work, posing wearily and lan- guidly for the statue of Ilebe, that was growing slowly and surely into life and beauty under the artist's cun- ning hand. " What can ail her ? " he said to Signora Pia. « Can she be ill ? " " No, indeed, she is not ill, she is only dull ; she is young and needs pleasure — give her a little change, and she will be cheerful again." So Hugo conquered his repugnance to appearing in public, and took Lisa to hear " La Favorita." At fii-st the girl was almost wild with delight. The music, the lights, the gay crowd, the beautiful scenes on the stage, the acting, the singers — and more than all, the lovely prima donna enchanted her, and her father could scarce keep her ardor within the bounds of propriety. She would lean forward, and clasp her little hands rapturously, and almost shout with delight, until her beauty and enthusiasm attracted the atten- tion of many, and numerous glasses were levelled at their humble loggia. Suddenly she started and turned deadly pale, and her eyes had a wild, frightened look, as she leaned forward and fixed her gaze on an oppo- site box. Hugo watched her narrowly, a strange sus- picion filling his heart. She had seen some one she recognized, and who could it be ? There seemed to be nothing where she was looking but a fluttering curtain 196 NEMESIS. before an empty box. Still the expresrion of her face did not deceive him, there was some mystery that he did not understand. At length «he turned her fixed gaze .from the empty loggia opposite, and glancing down to the first tier,her face suddenly lighted up, and leaning toward her father, she said, in a suppressed whisper, " Look, papa, do you see that lovely lady yonder ? I know her face, she is the one I talked with that day in San Miniato- she is the one who gave me the rosary." CHAPTER XIII. NEMKSIS. jlT the end of the month, according to his agree- ment with the hunchback. Count Valdimer presented himself at the studio of the strange artist, ostensibly to criticise the statiie of Hebe, but, in reality, to endeavor to obtain an interview with the fair model. When he entered, admitted by Signora Pia accord- ing to instruction, he found Hugo working diligently, b^t he was alone, and the visitor sought vainl n every part of the vast room for the fair face and NEMESIS. 197 3xpregrion of her face joine mystery that he [ gaze from the empty wn to the first tier, her , leaning toward her B-hisper, " Look, papa, ,er "i I know her face, day in San Miniato— rosary." Kill. , according to his agree- iback. Count Valdimer he stndio of the strange I statne of Hebe, but, in a interview with the fair by Signora Pia accord- ugo working diligently, risitor sought vainl n I for the fair face and golden hair of the lovely Lisa, whom he hoped to find in the company of her father, or rather alone, for he fancied it might be his happy chance to arrive during some of the frequent absences of the artist. But his good genius did not favor him to that extent ; the himchback was at his post and received his patron with almost sullen indifPerence, scarce deigning to dis- cuss the merits of the work that was growing into sur- passing beauty under his skilful hand. But while Valdimer was secretly enraged at this apathetic reception, he could find no rational fault, since the work was so perfect ; neither could he frame any excuse for prolonging his visit beyond a reasonable time ; so, reluctantly, he was obliged to leave without obtaining even a glimpse of the object of his adora- tion. It had been some days since he had knelt by her side in the Church of San Marco, and although he had haunted the same spot at Vespers, she had come no more, and his heart seemed to be consuming with the ardor of a love which, the more it was suppressed and thwarted, the more it was increased and strengthened. It was true that he had seen her that night at the opera, had watched her exquisite face lighted up with enthusiasm and delight. How fresh and sweet and innocent she was ; how different from a cold, haughty woman of the world; how he longed to be by her 198 NEMESIS. Bide, to hear her naive expressions of pleasure, to look into' the depths of her heavenly eyes, to listen to the music of her laugh 1 but that was not possible ; he was separated from her by the convenances of society, by the watchful care of her sullen, suspicions father, by every obstacle that could keep two ardent, loving hearts asunder. But these he meant to overcome; there was nothing that his impetuous heart would not undertake to break down the barriers between them. He was rich and free, then what was there to prevent him from winning her at last? A little time, a little patience, and he would have his reward. So he went as often as he dared to tlie studio in the Via San Gallo, where he always found Hugo alone, working in sullen silence, in feverish haste to com- plete an order that was to give him wealth and peace, and freedom from fear and anxiety. One day, as he entered rather hastily, he caught a glimpse of a blue robe and a fringe of golden hair just disappearing through the door, and that was all; for Hugo was before him, almost barring his entrance until the light figure had entirely disappeared. The same day he saw a piece of embroidery lying on a bench at the feet of Apollo, and taking it up, when Hugo was not looking, he pressed his lips to it, feeling sure that she would know that he had kissed it. But Bhe did not. As subtle as love may be, Lisa did not of pleasure, to look yes, to listen to the lot possible ; he was ance8 of society, by uspicions fatlier, by two ardent, loving iieant to overcome; ous heart would not riors between them, iras there to prevent L little time, a little sward. to tlie studio in the \ found Hugo alone, perish haste to com- m wealth and peace, hastily, he caught a ;e of golden hair just md that was all ; for barring his entrance y disappeared. The ibroidery lying on a I taking it up, when 1 his lips to it, feeling 5 had kissed it. But may be, Lisa did not NEMESIS. 199 detect her lover's kiss or touch on the work she had so hastily dropped when her father told her to leave the room, for a stranger was about to enter. Neither did she know that the rich Eussian noble who had ordered the Hebe was the same person who had smiled on her from behind the statue of Fauna, and knelt by her side ill the Church of San Marco. Another day, after ho had been there, she found a violet carelessly dropped on her work. Was it an accident, or had it been placed there? She could not tell, but she pressed it to her lips, and afterward hid it in her bosom without saying anything to her father. For some reason it seemed a message from the one she thought of so constantly. As day after day passed by, the poor girl grew paler and sadder, and her father watched her more closely, until his anxious scrutiny became a positive pain to her; he would not suffer her to leave his sight, nor take her to the gardens, nor allow her to accompany Signora Pia to Vespers. It seemed as though he feared that the very air would absorb her, or some unseen hand snatch her away from his side ; and as his anxiety increased, he too became restless and fever- ish ; he could not sleep, he no longer relished his food, even his work became distasteful to him ; but he forced himself to it for the sake of what it was to give him. Sometimes in desperation he would throw down his 200 NEMESIS. I tools and rush out into the open air, and hurry througli the streets and gardens as though an evil spirit pur- sued him. He was haunted by a fear, a vague, namelesa fear, that some terrible calamity was coming upon him ; that his secret was about being discovered ; that all he loved or prized in the worid was about to be taken from him, and he was almost in despair ; the slumber- ing fires in his nature seemed about to break forth in awful destruction, and he had no power to restrain them. One day he climbed the hill of San Miniato, and entering the church, he knelt and prayed long and fervently ; then he descended to the spot under the cypress trees where he had stolen the child, and wept and entreated God again and again to forgive him and save him from despair. He had reached what seemed to him the sumuiit of woridly prosperity, wealth was about to be his, and he had already won all the fame his heart desired, yet he was wretched, more wretched than he had ever been, for he felt with fatal certainty that he was about to be plunged from prosperity and happiness into sudden, irretrievable ruin. One morning he tried vainly to work from Lisa's drooping, spiritless figure, but even his model failed to inspire him ; instead of the glowing goddess of youth, he was modelling a statue of sorrow; her wan, sad face NBME8I8. 201 r, and hurry throngli \ an ovil spirit pur- lar, a vaguo, nameless fis coming upon liim ; icovered ; that all he bs about to be taken espair ; the slnmber- )ut to break forth in \o power to restrain of San Miniato, and [id prayed long and 3 the spot under the 1 the child, and wept in to forgive him and him the summit of >out to be his, and he is heart desired, yet d than he had ever jrtainty that he was perity and happiness to work from Lisa's 3n his model failed to ing ginidess of youth, jw; her wan, sad face was a reproach to him, and seemed to arouse a feeling of ajiger in his heart that he could not overcome. « In Heaven's name," he said harshly, " why do you wear such a face, when I wish you to look happy 1 Go to your room, and do not return until you can bring a more cheerful expression with you." The poor girl went away weeping bitterly, and the sifhtof her tears almost maddened him. Throwing down his tools, he sank into a chair and covered his face in an agony of sorrow. He had made his idol weep, he had spoken harshly to this lovely, tender child that he worshipped. What a fiend he was I Tliore must be some evil demon in his misshapen body that was suddenly unloosed. What could he do to gain her forgiveness ? Where could he go for help in liis trouble ? Suddenly he remembered that day, so many years ago, when in his despair he had gone to pray before he ushered his guilty soul into eternity, that the Angel of the Church had appeared to him and saved him from himself. Would she save him now ? He had always worn the ring that she had given him ; drawing it from his bosom he pressed it to his lips, and the touch seemed to reassure him. " I have never needed her before," he said. " I have never been in despair since that day. Now I will see if I can find her, and perhaps she will save me, as she did then." At that moment there was a knock at the door, and * 202 NEMESIS. Signora Pia, looking in, aaid : " Here is a lady who wishoa to see yon, Signore. May alio enter?" And before he could reply, the visitor stood in his presence. For a moment neither spoke. Signora Pia closed the door, and left them alone. Then the lady, fixing her clear eyes upon him with earnest scrutiny, said, in a voice that sounded in his ear like a strain of heavenly music: ■ v « " Is it possible ! are you Hugo the artist ? Are you the great sculptor that all Florence is talking of ? " "I am Hugo," ho answered, humbly and simply, and all the while his sad gaze seemed to be searching for something in her face. " And you have forgotten me ? " " Ah ! Signora. You bring back something in my past, some blessed memory, but of what I cannot tell." " Have you forgotten the Church of Santo Spirito, where, sixteen years ago, you wept and prayed in terri- ble grief?" " Forgotten it ! no, Signora, how could I ever for- get that day when an angel saved me from despair ? " " A woman offered you her human sympathy, you should say, and gave you a ring, which she told you to keep until you needed her help." " Ah ! Signora, how did you learn that ! Yes, you speak truly, and I have the ring. I have worn it next Here is a lady who alio enter ? " e visitor stood in his Signora Pia closed eyes upon him with lat sounded in his ear ;he artist ? Are you e is talking of ? " humbly and simply, 3med to be searching ck something in my : what I cannot tell." eh of Santo Spirito, t and prayed in terri- )w could I ever for- me from despair? " uman sympathy, you rhich she told you to earn that? Yes, you I have worn it next NEMESIS. 203 my heart ever since. Here it is," and Hugo drew forth the little band of gold, so lately wet with his tears. A sad smile passed over the visitor's face, and sho .said softly, as though she were speaking to hereelf, " The gift is retained, but the giver is forgotten." " Madre di Dio ! Is it true ? Aro you the Angel of the Church?" cried Hugo, dropping on his knees, and clasping his hands ajjpealingly. " Yes, my friend, I am the same woman ; but rise, I pray yon. Do not kneel to me." ^' And to think that I should over forget the face of one who was my salvation," said the hunchback, over- come with shame and surprise. " But my face is not the same, my friend ; the years, the bitter strife, the pain, and sin, and anger of my life, have changed and marred my features." " Ah 1 not so, Signora ; you are lovely now," mur- mured Hugo, with reverent admiration ; " but you are diflferent. You were like an angel then, but now you are like a queen." " And you, my friend, how little I thought to sec in the great artist, the man whose genius all admire, the one whom I once comforted a little with ray aid and sympathy." " The one you saved, Signora, for had it not been for you 1 should not be living to-day. I should not be 204 NEMESIS. what I am. God sent you to save ine from doBtnictioti then, and perhaps he has sent you again, for I need you now." " What, is it possible that you are unhappy, when yon are so prosperous ? " " Most wretched, Signora." " In what way, my friend \ How can I aid you ? " " By saving me from myself. I suffer because I am my own enemy. I am ungrateful. God has given uie much, and I would have more." " "What would yon have that you have not ? " Hugo dropped his eyes, and hesitated before this direct question. Alas I now that he had found a heart to pour his sorrow into, he could not avail him- self of the comfort it might give him. He could not be cured because he could not tell his disease. He could not confess his sin, therefore he could not be forgiven ; realizing this, he paused on the threshold of confidence, and withdrew his sorrow again within the recesses of his own overburdened soul. "What is your sorrow! Cannot yon open yoaf heart to me 1 " urged the gentle voice. Then Hugo, evading the true answer, said with some hesitation : " I hate myself, Signora, and I would be as others are." " My poor friend, why hate thyself when God hath created thee as thou art 9 " me frum dostniction ou again, for I need are unhappy, when ow can I aid yon ? " [ Buffer because I am I. God has given me AX have not ? " hesitated before this lat he had found a could not avail him- him. He could not tell his disease. He ore he could not be )d on the threshold of row again within the soul. tinot yon open youf voice. ,e answer, said with rould be as others are." yself when God hath NEMESIS. m "Ah, Signora, because 1 would have what my talents can never give mo, and what I would prize more than honor, wealth, or fame." "And what is that?" " H»iman love, Signora." " Alas, my friend, it is but a name. There is no such thing as love. There is self-interest, there is passion, tliere are a thousand emotions that the heart mistakes for love; but love such as you have dreamed of — per- haps, such as you believe exists — I have never met with." ^^ '■ " " And if you have never met with it, you, so lovely, so favored by your Creator, how can I, a poor, afflicted, misshapen creature, dare to expect it ? " " As you are, you are spared all illusions, all de- ceptions, all professions that mean nothing. Yoiir heart is not wounded as othei-e have been. Thank God for that. It is His compensation for your misfortune." " Can you say tr.uly, Signora, that love is a myth, imaginary, and not possible? because if yon can, it will reconcile me to my deformity, my trouble, my disappointments — ^in fact, to the life that an hour ago I felt to be a burden too heavy to bear." The Duchess turned her face away from the sad, imploring gaze of the hunchback, who seemed to wait for her answer as though his very life depended upon it But for her soul's salvation she oould not have I I 1 206 NEMESIS. Baiti, at that inoinotit, tlmt there was no such Miitifr as human lovo ; for a nicHu.ry, a clin-,'ing, tender Hiom- ory of lior girlhood, that had colored her whole life, and had j,'>vci» li^ »^ll »•»« «^^'««^ P"''« liain>'"e88 ^ho had ever known, flooded hor heart, and woUod to her eyes in hot, paasictnatc tears. " You do not answer nie, Signora,hecauBo you would not teach me what is false. Tl>o heart heating in my ill-favored hody is like that of all mankind, and it tells me I can never enjoy the sweetest hlcssing that God has bestowed on all humanity, and I do not expect it ; but a filial love, a natural love, ought my misfortune to deprive me of that ? " « I scarcely understand you, Signor Hugo ; explain yourself more clearly." " I haveadaughter— a youngand beautiful daughter." «' You ? Is it possible ? " said the Duchess with ill- ooncealed surprise. " 1 did not suppose you had any ties of that kind." " I have this one child," continued Hugo, without seeming to notice the Duchess's astonishment. " She is all 1 have in the world to love, and I worship her." " And her mother, where is she i " « She is dead, Signora," replied the hunchback, low- ering his eyes ; " she died when Lisa was a baby." « You say your child is lovely. I trust she is affeo' tionate and dutiful." was 110 such thhy^ as in^^iiig, tender inoin- ored hor whole life, , pure happiness she ,rt, and woUod to her ra, because you would ! heart heating in iny mankind, and it tells jst blessing that God id I do not expect it ; ought my misfortune ignor Hugo; explain d beautiful daughter." the Duchess with ill- suppose you had any tinued Hugo, without astonishment. " She B, and I worship her." le?" 3d the hunchback, low- Lisa was a baby." ^ I trust she is affeo IfEMKsrs. 207 "She 18 an angel of g,v.;.r/ "Perhaps I am mistaken; the change that you notice in her may arise from other causes." " Can it be that she has just begun to realize what a wretched, deformed creature her father is ? Is it a natural repugnance for my hideous self that keeps her away from me? Oh! tell me, Signora, can it be that ? " And the hunchback, entirely overcome by his feelings, covered his face and sobbed as he had done on that day when the Duchess first saw him weeping in the Church of Santo Spirito. « My friend, you must control yourself, and not give way in this weak manner to imaginary trouble. Your daughter, as you say, is but a child; and who can NEMESIS. 209 Ohl she cannot love who ha8 worehipped -(a 3 a husband some day, - , • id Hugo, with sudden from me. I will see Im yourself, and you m is folly." lee that my evil spirit ave loved the child bo, he possibility of losing the change that yon ler causes." begun to realize what her father is ? Is it a ous self that keeps her le, Signora, can it be ntirely overcome by hia jobbed as he had done 5 first saw him weeping 1 yourself, and not give aginary trouble. Your a child; and who can account for the caprices of childhood ? Do not distress yourself with the idea that your deformity estranges her heart from you. She has seen you always, and I will wager that she never thinks of it ; and that she loves you as well as any child can love a parent." Hugo raised his tear-stained eyes to the face of the Duchess with a look of gratitude, and taking her hand, he pressed it humbly to his lips. « Thank you, Signora, for your kind words ; they give me new life ; but tell me, what can I do to make the child happy as she once was ? " " Give her young companions and more freedom ; for youth craves change and amusement. Take my advice, and you will see her as gay and happy as a bird." Hugo's countenance fell. She had advised what he could not and would not do, but he said nothing. Tlie Duchess watched him closely for a moment, and then added : " I hope you have told me the real cause of your trouble; that you have kept nothing back, otherwise my advice will be of no benefit to you." " I have told you all, Signora," returned the hunch- back a little sullenly, " and I thank you for your advice." " Now, my friend, I will inform you of the object of uiy visit ; for I had an object in coming, but my sur- prise at finding in Signer Hugo an old acquaintance 210 NEMESIS. & -1 ha^ almost driven it from my mind," said the Duch- ess, hx)kiiig curiously around the studio. I came here to give the most popular sculptor in Florence a com- mission." ^ « I am at your service, as you well know, Signora. "What would you have me do? " « I would like a statue of myself." « That will be a pleasure, and I need not assure you that I will do my best. Is it to be a portrait, Signora, or in character." - « A character and a portrait both, if you can com- bine the two effectively." " That depends on the character." " I have decided on it. It is to be Nemesis." « Nemesis, the goddess of vengeance 1 " " Yes, it is a fancy, and I would have it so." « But, Signora, I cannot model a portrait of you in that character. There is not a line or an expression in your face like the fierce demon of revenge." « When I think of my wrongs, I can put my desire into my face, and instead of the Duchess of Castel- lara, you will see before you retribution pei-sonified." And as she spoke her eyes glowed and deepened with such vindictive hate that Hugo trembled and Bhrunk from her as though she had some injury to avenge on him. The years had indeed changed her. Was tliis the sweet, compassionate woman who had NEME8IB. 211 ind," said the Duc.li- studio, I came liei-e • in Florence a corn- well know, Signora. slf." I need not assure you je a portrait, Signora, 3tli, if you can coin- .» 3r ;o be Nemesis." ;eance 1 " Id have it so." 1 a portrait of you in ne or an expression in )f revenge." , I can put my desire le Dnchess of Castel- ribution pei*8onified." glowed and deepened t Hugo trembled and e had some injury to [ indeed changed her. nate woman who had stood before him in Santo Spirito 1 was this implaca- ble, cruel enemy the Angel of the Church ? " Madre di Dlo',' he thought, " if I were her victim, glie would kill me with her glance." But he only said, '• I will try, Signora. I will do my best to produce the cliaracter you desire to assume ; still I wish it were some other impei-sonation in which I could do both- you and myself more justice." « I am satisfied with my choice, and I am willing to leave it to you to work out. Do not lose my face in the character nor the character in my face, that is all I ask ; combine the two, and I shall be content. When can I have my first sitting ? " " To-morrow, if it suits you, Signora." " Then I will be here at this hour." " Very well, I shall be at your service." " And I trust to find you in better spirits, and more reconciled to your destiny," added the Duchess, ris- ing and drawing her veil over her face. « I will endeavor to bo, Signora," returned Hugo, as he opened the door for her. Then he watched her descend the stairs with a proud, firm step, her silken garments trailing after her, and he murmured to himself : " The Angel of the Church as Nemesis. What can it mean 1 " 212 A DISCOVERT. CHAPTER XIV. • A DISCOVERY. • JS soon as the Dncliess of Castellara left Hugo's studio, he sent Signora Pia to bring Lisa to him, for his heart was longing to be recon- ciled with the child, to whom he had never before, in all her life, spoken an angry word. As she entered, her red, swollen eyes, and pale face were a silent reproach to him, although she had wiped away her teai-s, and was striving to appear cheerful, as he had commanded her to do. Looking timidly at hint to see if he were still angered, there was an expression of fear mingled with sorrow on her sweet face, that pierced him to the heart, and almost bowed him to the earth before her in deepest peni- tence. . ^ With all his love and contrition in his face, he held out his arms as she approached, and taking her ckwe to his heart he sobbed : " Forgive me, my darling, for speaking to you in anger, forgive me." « Hnsh, dear papa 1 It was I who provoked it with my indifference. My heart was not in your work, and 80 my face showed it j but I will do better now." tr. A DISCOVERT. 213 LIV. Castellara left Hugo's I Pia to bring Lisa to longing to be recon- e had never before, in rd. len eyes, and pale face m, although she had iras striving to appear id her to do. Looking ere still angered, there led with sorrow on her the heart, and almost e her in deepest peni- lon in his face, he held 1, and taking her ckwe ive me, my darling, for /e me." I who provoked it with s not in your work, and ill do better now." "And why was not your heart in my work?" asked Hngo, tenderly stroking her hair. " I was thinking of something else, papa." " And what sad thoughts could my Lisa have— for surely they were sad when her face looked so sorrow- ful?" "I do not know," she stammered. "I scarcely remember now what was in my mind." « My child, look into my face ; do not avert yonr gaze from me. There is something in your heart that you would conceal from your father." He spoke very gently, but very earnestly, as though he entreated her to unburden her soul to him. But she continued to look away without speaking. « If there is any ungratificd wish in your heart, any sorrow, hope, or fear, tell it ^ne, and let me be your best friend, your guide, your support. God knows, I will do all for you that a loving, unselfish parent can." « I know it, papa; you are always good ; but there is nothing to tell you," she replied, in a low voice, still looking away. " Are you quite sure, darling ? " A vivid blush passed over the girl's cheeks and brow, and the tears came suddenly to her eyes, but she forced them back, and said quietly : " Have I ever told you an untruth, papa 1 " 214 A DISCOVERT. W ( ." Never, my child." : ' "Then, cannot you trust mo now, and I will be your own dear, good Lisa, and never grieve you again. " God bless you, my treasure," and Hugo took her lovely face between his hands, and looked down into the liquid depths of hei* eyes with an eager, hungry, longing gaze, aa though he would read her soul through and through, and then asked : " My Lisa, are you sure you love me ? " " Quite sure, papa," she returned, with unflinching eyes. " Better than any one in the world ? " The white lids fell, a hot blush suffused her cheeks again, and, with a short, forced laugh, she replied : "Oh! you dear, foolish papa, whom have I in the world to love beside you ? " Hugo let her face fall from between his hands, and turned away with a heavy sigh ; he was not satisfied — she was hiding something from him. Her nature was as transparent as crystal, and he could detect the faint shadow of concealment there. " Now, papa, do not look sad ; corae, let us go to work on the Hebe, and I will try to appear as you wish me to, for I am happier than I was, and I do not mean to offend you with my sad looks again." " You may amuse yourself with your books or your ij e now, and I will be id never grieve you !," and Hngp took her and looked down into iritli an eager, hungry, would read her soul aaked : " My Lisa, are rned, with unflinching vorld % » sh suffused her cheeks 3d laugh, she replied : whom have I in the letween his hands, and he was not satisfied — him. Her nature was s could detect the faint id ; come, let us go to •y to appear as you wish was, and I do not mean I again." ithyour books or your A DISCOVERT. 215 embroidery, my child, for I shall not work on the Ilebo to-day. I must go out and find some clay for a now Older." " A new order, papa ? Why, what have yon to do now ? Oh ! how famous you are becoming. Tell nie, what is it? " cried Lisa, running to him and kissing him fondly on both cheeks. " 1 have to make a statue of the Duchess of Castellara." "The Duchess of Castellara I Is she not the one they call the most beautiful lady in Florence ? " " She is very beautif ifl and very rich," returned Hugo musingly. "Ah, papa, how proud I am when all the great Florentines come to you to ask for your work ! Some day we will be as grand and rich as they are, and it will be because of your genius." An expression of satisfaction passed over the hunch- back's face, for her praise was very sweet to him, and kissing her again he took his hat and went out, leaving her alone in the great, dreary room, with her dumb com- panions and her own thoughts. Taking her embroidery, as her father had recotn- mended, she sat down in her usual place, but, instead of working, she fell to thinking, as she always did when she was alone, of her hero of romance — the handsome unknown who had written those sweet words that lay neit her heart, and who had pressed her hand as she 216 A DISCOVERT. k„clt at her prayei-s in the Chapel of the Sacrament. How long it had been Binco alio had seen him, and hew Blowly tlie days dragged away, without the hope vi seeing him again. Suddenly she heard steps outside. « There -como. Signora Tia," she thought. " Oli,^ I eannot even bo alone long enough to think of him." The door opened, she heard the old woman say, « The Signore has come," and looking up she saw the object of her thoughts standing before her. Then tho d.>or closed. Signora Pia went away without looku.g in and they were alone. At first she was so overcome by surprise and joy, that Bhe could neither move nor speak, but sat at the feet of Apollo silent, her face covered with burning blushes, which she feared would betray her secret. Count Valdimer cast a hurried, searching look around tl.c studio, and seeing that no one was present but tlje girl, he came forward eagerly, with outstretched hands and radiant face, saying, « Ah I this is a greater happi- ness than I dared to hope for." « My papa is not in, Signore," said Lisa, rising and making an effort to recover from her confusion. 1 you wish to see him, perhaps you will be good enougli to wait until he returns." And she turned towards tlie door, as if she were about lo leave the room. « Pray do not go, Signorina," cried Valdimer, step- ST. ipel of the Sacrament. I had seen him, and how y, without the hope of )UtBide. " There -comes ' Oil, I cannot even bo him." rd the old woman Bay, looking up she saw the r before her. Then the it away without looking } by surprise and joy, that jeak, bnt sat at the feet ired with burning bluBhes, y her secret. ied, searching look around ) one was present but the , with outstretched hands hi this is a greater happi- r. lore," said Lisa, rising and from her confusion. " If you will be good enougli >k.nd she turned towards the leave the room, tna," cried Valdimer, step A DISCOVERT. 217 jiing before her, " I have been trying for weeks to see you a moment alone, to speak to you without being overheard, and now that my good fortune has given mo the chance, I beg that you will not deprive me of it." " But papa would be angry, if he know I spoke to a stranger when he was absent," returned tlie poor girl, trembling with mingled happiness and fear. " But he need never know it, my sweet child." " Signora Pia will tell him. Oh ! why did she al- low you to enter ? " " She did not know your father had gone out ; she believed him to be here, or she certainly would not have ushered me in with such confidence ; but since she has done so, permit me to remain, Signorina; permit me to tell you how I love you, and how long I have been trying to see you. In all my visits here, which were only for yon, this is the first time my pa- tience has been rewarded. Now do not banish me before you listen to what I have to say." " I pray then, Signore, that you will be brief. If my father should return and find you here, his anger would be terrible, for he has always foi-bidden me tt: speak with strangere." "But, sweetest Lisa, we are not strangers. I love you ! I adore you ; then how can we be strangers ? I see you do not know who I am." " No, Signore, I do not even know your name." 10 218 A DISCOVERT . " I am Connt Valdimer Nordiskoff. I am the Kn^ Bian noblo for whom your father is making the stutiio of Hobo." «*Ohl Signore, ia it posaihlo that yon arc ho?"" and Lisa drew back with a sort of awe in her face. " I did not kjiow that you wore a noble. A poor girl such as 1 am must not listen to your professions of love." Valdimer smiled at her sweet simplicity, and wont on : "I love you, and I gave your father this commis- sion so that through it I might see you, for I cannot live without yon." " But you are a noblo, and so rich," said Lisa, her sweet earnest xs^es fixed on his handsome face. " That surely is no objection. It is miich better to be noble than common, and rich than poor. I will make you a lady, my lovely angel, and give you all your heart can wish for." " How good and generous you must be. Why, you are giving papa a fortune for the Hebe." « Ah I that is but little. My love for you is greater than all the wealth of the world. Now, what will you give me in retuni 1 " « I know not, Signore. What can a poor girl like me give to one so noble and rich as you are ? " «Tou can give me your sweet love, my lily, my fair, pure flower, and that is all I ask." 1 t( I c si p fl f( I tl 81 d e' Ic si n< Ic IT. A DISCOVERT. 219 iskoff. I am the Kiis- r is making tho stutiio hat yon aro ho ?"" and ftwo in hor face. " I i noble. A poor pirl to your profesBions child was sleeping in directly he was gone, face covered, and fast ing my absence ? Have to allow any one to enter always obeyed you. I iio when I opened the eful. The child might let such a thing happen did it come from, how 8 it belong to 1" « Might not the Duchess of Castellara have dropped it, Signore % She has just left." « True, I never thought of that," said Hugo, eagerly seizing the idea, and appearing to find some comfort from it. " Yes, it may have been addressed to her, and she may have dropped it accidentally. It is a gentle- man's writing. The paper is evidently a leaf torn from a pocket-book, and it has a subtle odor about it, such as the wealthy use." Tlien he read it again thoughtfully and slowly, Bceming to weigh the words well. After a moment he looked up and asked quite calmly : " Have you been lately to San Marco with Lisa % " " Not very lately, I think. Let me see, it has been more than a week since we were there." "Who proposed going to San Marco, you or the Signorina 1 " " I did. I usually go there to Vespers, because it ia near." « In which chapel did you pray ? " « I do not just remember, but I think it was the Chapel of the Sacrament." Hugo turned pale again, and again the lurid fire burned in his eyes. " Was it Lisa's wish to pray there in preference to the other altars ? " « I think not. I believe it was only accidental our going into that chapel." Ofmrn^MtimiiiiMiiiiti- 232 A MTaTERT. " Was any one there bosidos youraelveB 1 " " No, S ignore, we were quite alone. It was nearly dark, and the chapol w«j empty." " You are certain of that — there was no one in the chapol i » " Ah, now I remember, a man entered a moment, and knelt down and repeated & pater noater or two." lingo started and looked at her keenly. " Did he remain long ? " " Only a moment." " - ■ . " Was he a young man i " " I did not notice him, for I was engaged with my prayers, but now I think of it I believe he was old. Yes, I believe his hair was white." " Did Lisa appear to notice him % " " She, Signore ? No, indeed. I remember how devout the dear child was. She never took her eyes from the face of the Saviour. I doubt if she knew whether any one came in or went out." "And you are sure no communication passed be- tween them, that she did not linger, or speak to this man ? " " As sure as I am that I live ; but if you doubt me, Signore " " Woman, if I. thought you would deceive me, 1 would tear your heart out ! " hissed Hugo, coming close to her and grasping her arm. " I have trusted you r. ourselves 1 " alone. It was nearly Qre was no ono in the in entered a moment, <)ater noater or two." 3r keenly. A MY8TERY. 233 was engaged with my I believe he was old. im?" I remember how devout took her eyes from the she knew whether any munication passed be- inger, or speak to this ; but if you doubt mo, L would deceive me, 1 aed Hugo, coming close " I have trusted you niid loft my child in your care without fear ; if you have deceived nio and harm comes to her, my veu- goaiioo will bo terrible." " If you think that of mo,8ignoro, I had bettor leave you at once," said Sigiiora I'ia, drawing away with fear from his grasp. " After all these ycaw, it is hard to be treated with suspicion." There was dignity in her manner and truth in her voice ; and Hugo, in spite of his anger, was somewhat assured. "Pardon me," he said, in a calmor tone, "if I have wronged you, if I have done you an injus- tice ; but this mystery maddens me, and renders self- control almost impossible." " Signore, you do the child a wrong as well as my- self. I would stake my life on her innocence, and that she knows no more of this letter than I do." «You believe that firmly, do you? You believe this never was addressed to her? " "Certainly; who would write such nonsense to a child 1" "You are a woman, Signora, and I thought she might have made a confidant of you," continued the hunchback, looking down dejectedly. « I thought she might open her heart to yoa when she would not to me." " She has nothing to confide ; her heart is as clear and open as the heavens ; dear child, I dare say she has never thought of love, let alone receiving such a f' S84 A MTSrSRY. ii M ^ wicked, Billy letter aa tlint. Wh}', if hIio hail, she could not have kept it to heiijclf, alio would have told you of it at once.'' " But why has she Bcciucd so sad and absont-mindcil of late ? I feared Boiiiothing was wrong before I found this." "It was but a young girl's mood. She is happy enough now. Only this morning she told me if she had wings she could Hy, her heart was so light." . Hugo's face softened, and the teare came into hia eyes, as he said : " Your words give uio comfort, and relieve my heart of a terrible load. 1 will trust the child. I will not thii»k that she could deceive mc. Say nothing to her about this letter, nothing about our convereation. I would not make her unhappy by ap- pearing to suspect her." And after glancing at the paper again, he folded it and put it in an inner pocket with a sigh of relief, as though he intended to dismiss the subject. *■ After that, several days passed away without any- thing taking place to disturb the peace of the humble household of the artist. Lisa, with a face all sunshine, posed for the llebe, and the hunchback went on rapidly with his work, now that his mind was at ease, and his confidence in his child restored. One day, the Duchess came to sit again for the Nemesis, and when she entered Hugo felt as though RY. liy, if hIio hail, hIio couU I would have told you of } sad and absont-mindcil caa wrong boforo I found 'h mood. She is happy iiing eho told ine if she uart was so light." tho tears caiiio into his Ib give mo comfort, and D load. I will trust tho sho could deceive mc. letter, nothing about our ako her unhappy by ap- id after glancing at tho put it in an inner pocket h he intended to dismiss issed away without any- the peace of the humble with a face all sunshine, mchback went on rapidly lind was at ease, and his d. ue to sit again for the ed Hugo felt as though A MYSTBllY. 285 ft cold blast had entered with her, for she did not seem in tho least like tho lady whoso memory ho had wor- ghipi>cd all tliCHo years. She was no longer the Angel of tho Church; sho was rather a Nenjoois than tho divinely compussionato being who had won his soul from its dark intention. No sooner had she C(jme into Ills presence than ho began to feel ill at ease and fear- ful. Tho glance of her clear, cold eye chilled him. Tlie look of scorn about her mouth and dilated nostrils uiado him shiver. What was tho power, the peculiar fascination she exorcised over him? Perhaps it was tho genius of tho artist imbued with the spirit of his subject— his soul in full harmony with his work, her impei-sonation in rapjwrt with his intention. He could not describe nor understand tho strange emotions that seenied to overwhelm him when in her presence. Yet, in spite of all, the work grew into fearful perfection under his hand, and tho plastic clay was fast changing into the terrible goddess of revenge. Tho Duchess seemed to feel tho deepest interest in the statue, coming often and sitting patiently, as long as the artist desired her to. They scarcely ever spoko together, for the work demanded all their attention. The subject of Lisa seemed to be forgoUeu by her, for she never niontioned the girl nor referred in any way to their meeting, and the unpleasant impression each had made on the other. 236 A MYSTERY. %^^ I': . One day, coming in late, she glanoed around tho Btudio, and said : " Are there violets here ? I smell a subtle odor of violets." . « There are none here, Signora," Hugo replied, as he wheeled his work into position ; " but I suppose it is the fragrance of them clinging about my clothes. I bought a bunch for Lisa when I was out. The child is very fond of them, and I like to gratify her when I can." The Duchess made no reply, but took her place, sterner, paler, and more haughty than usual. That day, when she was about leaving, Hugo thought of the letter that he had found on the floor and which he had kept concealed ever since, and an irresistible desire to know if it belonged to her took possession of him. Taking it from its hiding-place and handing it timidly to her, he said, " I found this paper. Duchess, one day after you had gone, near the \ lace where you were sitting. Does it belong to you ? "■ She tf>ok it and unfolded it carelessly, looked at it with dilated eyes, reading it over and over, her face paler than the Nemesis before her, and then, with flashing scorn, she turned upon the trembling Hugo, and cried, " How dare you think that it belonged to me % " " Pardon me, Signora, 1 did not mean to offend you. I only thought that you might know to whom it wad addressed, and I had a reason for wishing ^" IF. A MYSTERY. 237 :ie glanoed around tho ioleta here ? I smell a ora Hugo replied, as ion ; " but I suppose it ig about my clothes. I [ was out. The child is to gratify her when I ly, but took her place, whty than usual. That ig, Hugo thought of the I floor and which he had au irresistible desire to c possession of him. ■place and handing it nd this paper, Duchess, jar the \ lace where you :oyou?"- it carelessly, looked at it )ver and over, her face )re her, and then, with the trembling Hugo, and liat it belonged to me ? " 1 not mean to offend you. it know to whom it wa^ for wishing " «I do know," interrupted the Dnehess, harshly; " but I would have yon understand that it was not in- tended for ray eye ; however, I am acquainted with the writer, and I will return it. Say nothing about it. It WU8 carelessly lost, but it will be better kept now." « Slie is angry because slie thinks I read it," said Hugo to himself, after she went away. " Is it possi- ble that these noble, high-born ladies have love affairs, Biich as an honest girl of the people would scorn to eiio-ao-e in ? Had the letter not belonged to her she would scarcely have been so angry at my having seen it. If it were not that my heart is at rest concerning Lisa, I should regret having returned it to her, for she would never have known that she lost it here, and I should not have incurred her displeasure by finding it.*' More than a month passed away after Hugo had re- turned the letter to the Duchess and nothing of impor- tance had transpired to disturb his serenity. He was happy again, that is, as happy as he could be with a vague fear hanging over him, that never left him quite at rest. Lisa was contented and cheerful ; there were no more complaints of her dreary life ; she seemed now to love the vast space within the four walls of the studio better than any other spot, for Signora Pia often said that formerly, when her father was absent, she had liked to come and sit with her in the sunshine on the little loggia, but now she preferred to remain in the i I! SI 238 A MYSTERY. stndio alono with her books, and slie did not disturb the child, lildng to see her happy in her own way. One day, Hugo had been out ; being late in Decem- ber the days were short, and it was near dark when he reached the Via San Gallo. As he turned itito the street he was surprised to see standing, not far from his door, an elegant equipage, whose livery he immediately recognized as that of the Duchess of Castollara. What could have brought her to his house at that hour, and especially as she had been there in the morning? While the hunchback was wondering over this strange incident a man, closely wrapped in a cloak, came out of the door thp' 'od into his own court, and hurried by him without : 1' ice or sign of recognition. Ap- proaching tn( .ri-ge where the driver and footman sat like statues, he made a sign which was just visible to Hugo in the gatheriiig darkness, and then went on swiftly toward the piazza San Marco, where he was soon joined by the carriage, into which the hunch- back, who had followed after him in the shadow of the l>uildings, saw him enter and drive rapidly away. Bewildered with surprise, Hugo turned and retraced his steps toward his house, thinking that there ho would find an explanation of the mystery. Scarcely had he touched the bell-cord, whenSignora Pia answered his summons with a pale and troubled face. iiMWSbl^ T. id she did not disturb y in lier own way. ; being late in Decem- kvas near dark when he is he tnrned itito the anding, not far from his e livery he immediately iss of Castellara. Wliat honse at that hour, and liere in the morning? dering over this strange 1 in a cloak, came out of n conrt, and hurried by n of recognition. Ap- the driver and footman n which was just visible mess, and then went on in Marco, where he was into which the hunch- r him in the shadow of nd drive rapidly away, [ugo turned and retraced thinking that there ho the mystery. 3 bell-cord, when Signora rith a pale and troubled A MYSTERY . 239 « Have you just now returned. Signer Hugo ? " she asked. "But this moment," he replied. "Who has been hcrer' « That is just what I wish to ask you," returned the woman, dropping her voice to a confidential whisper. « Wliat can you mean ? Explain yourself," cried Hugo excitedly. i ; . ^^ "I will, Signore, if you can listen calmly to what I have to say, and not be hasty in your judgment." " Go on, for Heaven's sake, and 1 will be as quiet as you wish." " During most of the time that you were absent I was working in my room, and at last finishing what I had to do, and supposing you had not returned, I thought I would go and sit with the Signorina a little while in the studio. As I had my hand on the d(K)r and was about to enter I heard some one talking with- in—in a low voice, it is true, but loud enough for me to know that a man was speaking, and thinking that you had come back and let yourself in, as you Borae- times do, I went away, not wishing to disturb you. After a little while I heard the outer door close softly, and supposing yon had gone out again, I went the second time to the studio, and found it empty. This surprised me, so I knocked on the Signorina's door to see if she was in her room. She was there, and bade f" 240 A MTSTEHT. 11; II m d If mo enter, saying that she was but just awakened, al- though she did not seem in the least like ouo aroused from sleep." « Go on. Wliat else have you to say 1 said lingo, in a suppressed voice, the fire of anger burning in his eyes, and his face drawn and ghastly in its pallor. «' Perhaps I had better leave you to discover who was with her. I asked the child no questions, I could not bear to; but I am faithful to you, Signoi-c, and I am faithful to Lisa, therefore I tell you of this." "You mean to say that, during my absence, she re- ceived a visitor in the studio 1 " ^ I fear so, for some one was there with her and yon Bay it was not yourself. I know not who it was, but I heard a man's voice distinctly talking with her. « Have you any suspicion who it was ? " « No, but this may be a clue to lead to the right per- son When I left the Signorina's chamber, 1 went to the outer door to see if I could discover anything, and on the landing I found this," saidSignora Pia, draw- ing a handkerchief from her pocket and putting it ni Hugo's hand. . The hunchback turned it over and examined it. It was a gentleman's handkerchief of fine lawn, with a coronet and coat-of -arms embroidered in the comer. « Here is a mysteiy," he said, « and I must unravel it. Send the Signorina to ms." ft Tli ii i i rii t iiiri i iiiiiar i f il l li A MT8TEET. 241 but just awakened, al- least like ouo aroused lu to say 1 " said Hugo, e of anger burning in d gliastly in its pallor, you to discover who was questions, I could not you, Signoi-c, and I am 1 you of this." ing my absence, sbe rc- I there with her and yon w not who it was, but I talking with her." ho it was ? " 3 toleadtotherigbtper- ina's chamber, 1 went to i discover anything, and saidSignora Pia, draw- pocket and putting it in t over and examined it. irchief of fine lawn, with ibroidered in the corner. , « and I must unravel it. A moment after Lisa entered the studio a little hesitatingly, and going to her father she kissed him as usual. Tlie hunchback returned her embrace and then said kindly : " My child, was the Duchess of Castellara here dur- ing my absence ? " "No, papa." " Was any one here ? " « I do not know. Signora Pia will tell you if sbe opened the door for any one." " Then you saw no one during my absence ? " " Who could I see, papa? " " Answer my direct question with a direct answer." She turned frightfully pale, but her voice never wavered as she replied : " Papa, once before you quesr tioned and suspected me, and I told you that you must trust me. I tell you the same now. I cannot answer you ; there is something in my heart that will not allow me to." « Lisa, my child, think what you are saying," cried Hugo, in a broken voice. " Do not refuse me your confidence." " Confidence must be given voluntarily, not forced, papa. I beg that you will not make me unhappy again." " Then you have nothing to tell me." " Nothing, papa." " Leave me, then. I wish to be alone." With a heart- 11 242 A MTSTERT. it K broken, Buppressed sob, and a look of deep affection, Lisa turned away from her father, and went back to the silence of her own room. From that moment there was a gulf between them, that no after-lovo or trust could bridge over. ' . , , When he was alone again, Hugo went to his desk and took out a card. It was the card of the Duchess of Castellara, on which she had made a memoranda of the hour for a sitting, and in the corner was the ducal coronet and coat-of-arms. Spreading the handkerchief on the table, he compared the card and embroidered monogram and found them to be precisely the same, and slowly and surely the tangled skein unravelled before his mind's eye. « I see it all plainly-blind, weak, deluded fool that I have been. The girl has a lover, and it is the Duke of Castellara. The Duchess has discovered- it, and that accounts for her strange conduct. The letter that I picked up on the floor was written to Lisa by the Duke; she recognized his handwriting, and that was the cause of her pallor, her rage, but she was too proud to betray her husband to me. He was the white-haired man who knelt.by her in the Chapel of the Sacrament. It was he who passed me to-day at my ver, door, and recognizing me, dared not enter his carriage in my sight. Oh I had I known it, had 1 dreamed that he was . my enemy, I would have felled him to the earth and r. COUNT VALDIMEITS DISAPPOINTMENT. 243 c of deep affection, Lisa md went back to tho that moment there was ter-lovo or trust could [ngo went to his desk card of the Duchess of ide a memoranda of the corner was the ducal 3ading the handkerchief card a"d embroidered be precisely the same, ngled skein unravelled ireak, deluded fool that I er, and it is the Duke of discovered' it, and that iuct. The letter that I written to Lisa by the ndwriting, and that was re, but she was too proud He was the white-haired Chapel of the Sacrament, ly at my ver door, and nter his carriage in my id 1 dreamed that he was id him to the earth and trampled him in the dust ; my arm would have been like a bar of steel to have struck in her defence. But I let him pass me, I let him escape. Another time he will not be so fortunate. He shall taste the revenge of the desi)iHed hunchback. Oh 1 my Lisa ; my child I and I trusted you and loved you so, and thought you so pure and innocent, and you must be deeper and more de- ceitful than any other living being to hide this from me with such ci ro. But I forgive you, and I will save you in spite of youi-self. You shall live to know the strength of ray love for you." CHAPTER XVI. CX)UNT VALDIMEe's DISAPPOINTMENT. OR several days Count Valdimer waited in vain for a signal from Lisa. Something must have happened. The hunchback had either discovered their clandestine meetings, or the girl was ill, for the curtain remained closed, and there was no sign of life from the little window over the loggia. Impatient and restless, Nordiskoff went to the studio, hoping by chance to meet Lisa, or to hear something from her, bnt his visits were unsuccessful ; he found Hugo f' • (, 244 OOUNT VALDJMEm DISAPPOINTMENT. alone, and apparently abBorbed, heart and bouI, in his work, though hiB face looked worn and sad, and hm .uannev ^vaB that of one engaged in a terrible conflict with hiMiBelf. Every glance, every movement Bhowcd that he waB trying to BuppreBB Bome paBBion, so.ue internal fire of anguiah that was conBuming hun while it smouldered. NordiBkoff felt a Bort of pity for the wretched man, and began to think that perhaps he was in some way to blame for it. If he had discovered his daughter b deception, of coui-se it would render him most un- happy ; but if he had, would the hunchback meet him in his usual calm and indifferent way, without anger or remark? It was not reasonable to suppose bo, for such an impulsive, uncontrollable nature would surely burst forth in passionate reproaches and Bharp recrimi- nation. There was a mystery that the Count could not understand, and Lisa's persistent silence only aggra- vated his love and desire to see her. He dare not ask after her, he dare not attempt any of the usual means of bribery with Signora Pia, for he at once understood that the faithful woman was not to be bought, and he dare not attempt to communicate with the girl by At last, urged on to desperation by a passion that he could not control, he had resource to Berto, the copy- ist, confessing to him his love for the beautiful Lisa, **, tvm^masmnatattmmm PPOINTMKNT. cart aJid bouI, in his rn and sad, and his in a terrible conflict ry movement showed some passion, some consuming him while or the wretched man, I he was in some way 50vered his daughter's render him most un- , hunchback meet him [it way, without anger ble to suppose so, for le nature would surely ihes and sharp recrimi- ,at the Count could not iut silence only aggra- her. He dare not ask ,ny of the usual means r he at once understood •t to be bought, and he icate with the girl by ;ion by a passion that he irce to Berto, the copy- for the beautiful Lisa, COUNT VALDIMERa DISAPPOINTMENT. 245 his present embarrassment, his impatience and desire to see her by some means, and promising the poor artist a handsome reward if he would bring about a meeting in any way that he could arrange. Berto was not a bad man ; ho was only weak, and very poor, and therefore easily induced to undertake the dishonorable task. But for awhile he seemed no more successful than the Count had been. He had inade various excuses to call at Hugo's studio, and had lingered around the house in the Via San Gallo as k)ng as he could without attracting attention, and all he had succeeded in learning was, that the hunchback rarely left his house, and that the girl was kept almost a prisoner in her own room, never being allowed to remain a moment alone, and never going out except to Mass or Vespei-s, and then always in company with her father or Signora Pia, who was as vigilant and alert as Hugo himself. Berto had tried, by following and watching closely, to find some opportunity of slipping a note into Lisa's hand, but all in vain ; for the hunchback was not to be taken in any clumsy net, and the old woman's eyes were everywhere at once. Count Valdimer was wretched when he was informed that the poor girl looked pale and ill, and was evidently suffering deeply from her close imprisonment and her desire to see him. "Poor child," he thought; "poor, gentle, lovely 240 COUNT VALDIMEKS DISArrOINTMENT. 1 I .11 ,M m ' 11 child 1 Tliift hidooiiB wrctdi will kill licr by liis Bovero trcutiiiont ; mid if 1 love her why 8h<)\.ld I leave hor in his power? There can certainly bo nothing wrong in providing her with some meane of escaping from his tyranny." Pondering over this a groat deal, ho at last resolved, with the aid of Berto, to take the girl away from her father by force if he conld not compass it by any other means ; for he never doubted but what Lisa would welcome any deliverance from her hateful bondage. « It will bo very easy to arrange," said Berto, in one of his consultations with Nordiskoff, for, as the young Count grew more and more inipationt, the poor artist grew more greedy for the gold that was to be his reward, and was now ready to push mattei-s to any extreme, if ho might but win a price equal to his service. " Not as easy as you think," returned Count Valdi- mer, impatiently, for he was weary with this constant disappointment of his hopes. « One cannot storm the castle and bear the lady off as he could in feudal times. If so, she would not long be in the power of that old monster, her father." " But what strength of arms cannot accomplish, wit and cunning can. You leave it to me, and 1 will find means to bring her to you." "Without injuring or alarming the poor child, re- XrrOINTMENT. kill lior by liis sovero slxM.ld I Icftvo hor in f bo nothing wrong in of escaping from his al, ho at last resolved, 10 girl away from hor )mpa88 it by any other but what Lisa would or hateful bondage. *o," said Borto, in one koff, for, as the young latient, the poor artist d that was to be his ) push mattei-s to any a price equal to his returned Count Valdi- lary with this constant One cannot storm the 5 could in feudal times, the power of that old cannot accomplish, wit t to me, and 1 will find ing the poor child, re- COUNT VALDIMEira DISAPPOINTMENT. 247 member; for 1 will not have a hair of hor head harmed." " Certainly, Signoro. I am not. a cruel man, and 1 would not undertake anything that would make another hunmii l)oiiig suffer; but I know the girl will bo as nnidy tu ccuno as I shall be to bring hor, and my plan is this : I have discovered iXxoXowfentas she goes to San Lorenzo t») Vespers, and sometimos she is alone with her woman, whom Hugo trusts as ho does himself. Thoy always pass the Via Ginori, which is a narrow, lonoly street, and at Ave Maria quite deserted. Now I shall station a carriage there with a trusty driver, and as they enter the street I shall arrange with a friend to take Signora Tia by the arm, and, if neces- sary, cover hor mouth with his hand, while I load the young lady to the carriage, whisiiering to her, of coui-sc, that you are waiting for her, which will pro- vent any alarm on her part, and then when I have her safely inside, the driver can cut np his horses and gallop o^, while my friend allows Signora Pia to go about h'jr business." « Very simple and feasible, as you present it, but perhaps not quite as easy of execution as you think; however, I make no objection, so that you bring the girl to a place that I will designate to you ; only remember, there is to be no violence, no force; if she objects, or resists, you are at once to abandon your plan." y ■ ^^ 248 COUNT VALUrUKIi'S DISAPPOTNTMENT. "Slio will not, Sigiiorc. Wlmt woiriftii in lu-r Houses would prol'cr imprisotiinont with sturli a jailor as her father, to freedom with the luau she loves I Oh, leave it all to uie, and 1 will bring her to you before another week is over." Signora Pia and Lisa were kneeling together in a quiet, unfrequented ehapel in San Lorenzo. The girl waa very pale and sad, and as she prayed earnestly the tears welled up into her lovely eyes and rolled down her cheeks like drops of crystal dew on the leaf of a rose, her sweet month trembled, and the words sho nt- tered seemed more a supprcwsed sob than a prayer. Life had seemed hard to the poor child, since she had incurred her father's just anger and lost her lover's society at the same time. For several weeks she had neither seen nor heard fr«m Valdimer, and her young heart was. sick with di8ay)poiiitment. She no longer dared to summon him to the studio, for her father was scarcely ever absent, and if ho was, Signora Pia watched in his stead, and she was as severe and as in- vulnerable as a rock. There was no way that she could see him, and as the days went on, hope left her and de- spair tilled its vacant place. Instead of being merry and light-hearted, as she onco was, she wept most of the time alone in her room, or prayed to God to restore her lover to her. She never asked to go out, never expressed any wish iPPOTNTMENT. COUNT VALDIMERS DTSAPPOTNTMENT. 249 t woman in her hciihis I such a jailor as her she I0VO8 1 Oh, Icavo to you boforo another {neoling together in a 111 Loroiisto. Tlie girl e prayed earnestly the eyes and rolled down [ dow on the leaf of a and the words sho nt- 3d 80I) than a prayer. »or child, since she had T and lost her lover's several weeks she had idimer, and her young incnt. She no longer dio, for her father was he was, Signora Pia vas as severe and as in- » no way that she could a, hope left her and de- nstead of being merry was, she wept most of rayed to God to restore er expressed any wish on any8ul)joct; showed no interest in anything beyond tiio walls of their homo ; avoided her father, if she conld, uiid if she was obliged to be in his presonce, remained Hilent and absorljcd, neither giving nor seeking conti- (lonco. And the p(M)r liun(;hi)a(!k watched her troubled face with mute sorrow, feeling that the time had como when ho had no power to comfort her, no moans of making her happy, and no chance of winning her lovo and trust, since ho must act the part of a cruel, pitiless jailor. " ' V ^r Signora Pia often took her' to church from n i)iou8 sense of duty, feeling that religion might soften the gii I's heart and bring her back to a sense of her duty ; but she watched her so closely, and treated her with such rigorous severity, that it was rnore a pain than a pleasure to leave the shelter of her own room. While the unhappy girl knelt and prayed in the Chapel- of San Lorenzo, unconscious that any eye but God's was upon her, three men were watching her from different points of view. Two were Berto and his companion, waiting, like birds of prey, to pounce xipon a timid, trembling dove ; the third was a dark, hand- some man, about thirty-six years of age, with gentle eyes, noble features, and a grave, sweet smile, that seemed the expression of a happy, generous nature, lie had been praying devoutly at one of the altai-s, and had risen from his knees, and was about to leave the ,4 (1 II' ;#' 250 COUNT VALDIMEICS DISAPPOINTMENT. chnrch when the lovely, sorrowf al face of Lisa attracted his attention; stepping behind a pillar, that he might watch her without being observed, he continued to gaze on her with respectful admiration; her youth, beauty, and sorrow; her maidenly, modest bearing ; her slender white hands clasped so devoutly ; the graceful turn ot her head; her simple, neat garments, all pleased his refined and pure taste. « She is no common girl," he thought, « and yet she cannot be a noble, or she would not be here at this hour with only a woman servant. They are evidently of the better middle class; the woman is most respect- able the girl is adorable and of different appearance and' manner; they cannot be mother and daughter, there is nothing in common about them ; and yet the elder seems not to be a servant. 1 am interested, and I will watch them, though it is an extraordinary thing for me to do. Fancy a man of my age and serious habits staring at a pretty girl from behind a pillar like a love-lorn rustic." At length Signora Pia and Lisa finished their devo- tions, and rose to leave the church, the girl with down- cast eyes and sad, abstracted air, the woman glancing constantly right and left, to see if the foe were in the field, or the way clear for them to pass out. The scru- tiny seemed to satisfy her, for no one was in sight but the scattered worshippers intent on their prayers, so, PPOINTMENT. face of Lisa attracted pillar, that he might he continued to gaze ; her youth, beauty, bearing ; her slender the graceful turn of lents, all pleased his liought, " and yet she I not be here at this They are evidently oman is most respect- different appearance nother and daughter, lit them ; and yet the 1 am interested, and an extraordinary thing f my age and serious )m behind a pillar like ,i8a finished their devo- ch, the girl with down- r, the woman glancing 3 if the foe were in the to pass out. The scru- lo one was in sight bnt lit on their prayers, so, COUNT VALDIMER8 DISAPPOINTMENT. 251 drawing the girl's arm within hers, she walked toward the door with a firm, resolute step. Scarcely had they entered the vestibule, when Berto and his companion stepped from their concealment behind a confessional and followed the women at a respectful distance, sper'dng in confidential tones from time to time. The gentleman behind the pillar noticed this, and being already ititerested in the lovely girl, he was determined to see what was the intention of the two men. As Signora Pia and Lisa entered the Via Ginorl, walking quickly, for it was nearly dark, Berto and his companion were close behind them, although they knew it not ; and at a little distance, with his eyes fixed on the graceful girl, followed the tall, lithe form of the man who had watched them from behind the pillar in the church. A carriage was drawn close up to a wall, and a driver seemed to-be nodding on the seat, while the horses stamped the pavement restlessly, as though they were tired of waiting. When the party of four came opposite the vehicle, one of the men suddenly sprang forward, and seizing the elder woman, he placed his hand over her mouth and held her firmly, while the other put his arm around the young girl and turned her toward the carriage. It was but the work of an instant, and had seemed simple enough, when Berto J, iU 'Mii, 252 COUNT VALDIMERS DISAPPOINTMENT. had recounted his plan to ValdiVner, but he had not expected any resistance on the part of the girl. How- ever, no sooner had Lisa seen the attack on Signora Pia, and felt the man's arm about her, than she strug- gled violently, and uttered a piennng shriek. It was in vain for Berto, then, to inform her that Count Yaldimer was waiting for her, that no harm was intended, and a dozen other stupid assurances, for she was beside herself with fright, and did not distin- guish a word that he said to her, but continued to call piteously for help ; and he, anxious to silence her, and, in his excitement, quite forgetting the Count's injunc- tion that no violence should be used, still insisted upon forcing the terrified girl toward the carriage, in spite of her struggles and screams. At that moment, and just as Berto was about to suc- ceed in forcing Lisa into the carriage, a vigorous blow from a strong hand sent him reeling backward, and, to his astonishment, a third pai-ty appeared on the scene, whose opposition he had not counted upon. Seeing that his cause was lost, and that a f uiiiher struggle was use- less, he called to his companion, who released the trembling Signora Pia, and with him sprang into the carriage, and was driven away before the rescuer had an opportunity of recognizing or detaining them. When Lisa knew that she was safe, her first thought was of Yaldimer, for, according to all laws of romance, APPOINTMENT. IdiVner, but he had not lart of the girl. IIow- the attack on Signora it her, than she strug- r(!ing shriek, n, to inform her that or her, that no harm stupid assurances, for lit, and did not distin- , but continued to call )us to silence her, and, ng the Count's injunc- ised, still insisted upou the carriage, in spite Jerto was about to suc- ■riage, a vigorous blow ling backward, and, to ppeared on the scene, ited upon. Seeing that •ther struggle was use- on, who released the li him sprang into the efore the rescuer had detaining them. safe, her first thought to all laws of romance, COUNT VALDIMER8 DISAPPOINTMENT. 253 it should have been her lover that rescued her from peril; but, instead of the fair-haired Russian, she saw before her an entire stranger, with a tall, straight figure, and a dark face, that in the gathering twilight looked kindly and protectingly on her. His arm was around her, and she was leaning against him, trembling like a reed smitten by a strong wind ; and as he held her, he could feel her heart beating, and every fibre of her being throbbing with fear. She could not speak for some moments, but clung to him, Bobbing and shaking, while he soothed her gently, smoothing her golden hair with a tender and reverent touch. " Poor child, do not fear," he said in a clear, pleas- ant voice. " You are safe now, for the villains have fled, and I will protect you until you reach your home." At that moment Signora Pia, who had recovered a little from her terror and surprise on seeing her young mistress supported by a stranger, and a man, came for- ward as quickly as her trembling limbs would allow her to, and putting her arm around the girl, she said : " Thank you, Signore. Though I scarce know what has happened, yet I perceive that you have saved us from danger. May God reward you for your goodness to two defenceless women." « Oh, Signora Pia, what did it all mean ? " cried the poor girl, shivering and looking around. W>\ -.' '.f Hi li'' 254 cof^^■^ yaldimers disappointment. « Be calm, Sigtioiina ; it is over now, and this gen- tleman will not leave us until we are safely home." Lisa looked appealiugly at her rescuer, who smiled confidently and replied : " Have no more fear. You are safe. But tell me where you live, for if it is far you are much too weak and shaken to walk." « It is not far," returned the girl; "we live in the Via San Gallo." " Her father is Signor Hugo, the artist," said Sig- nora Pia with some pride. " My poor father, how thankful I am that he was spared this scene ! The shock would have killed him." " Will you take my arm, Signorina ? " said the gentle- mp.i, " and we will turn toward your home. We shall not be likely to meet a carriage in this street, and I dare not leave you to seek one." " Oh I no, Signore, pray do not leave us. I can walk very well now ; see, I scarcely tremble at all." " I think I can support the Signorina without your assistance, if you will kindly leave her to me," said Signora Pia, a little doubtful whether she should allow her young mistress to take the arm of a stranger. " My good woman, do not be uneasy," replied the gentleman, with a pleasant smile. " I will take care of your mistress^or you have all you can do to walk steadily yourself. The fright has not left you with any too much strength." 3APP0INTMENT. ver now, and tliis gen- e are safely homo." 3r rescuer, who smiled no more fear. You are ve, for if it is far you to walk." girl ; *' we live in the o, the artist," said Sig- ful I am that he was irould have killed him." 3rina ? " said the gentle- your home. We shall ;e in this street, and I ot leave us. I can walk tremble at all." Jignorina without your leave her to me," said hether she should allow irm of a stranger, e uneasy," replied the lie. " I will take care ill you can do to walk has not left you with ^^^^SC^'^^^^'i**^-'^^"' '■ ' COVNT TALDIMER8 DISAPPOINTMENT. 255 When they reached the door of Hugo's house the Btranger was about to leave them, but Lisa insisted that he should enter to receive her father's thanks and to give a correct version of the adventure, which their terror at the time would not permit them to do. Tlie hunchback was sitting alone in his studio when they entered. Siguora Pia had opened the door with her key, and he had not heard them until they stood be- fore him. Looking up with a startled expression in his eyes, which suddenly turned to anger and surprise ut seeing a stranger with them, he said harshly : « It is time you returned ; your prayers take too much time, and I will not suffer this again." « Oh, papa, do not be angry. Oh, papa, listen to us," cried Lisa, throwing herself into her father's arms and bursting into tears. "This gentleman will tell you what has happened. And thank him, papa, for he has been so good to us." Hugo looked from one to the other, bewildered, while he tried to soothe his daughter. « What does this all mean, Signore? Will you be good enough to explain 1 " « Certainly," said the stranger, gravely. " It can be told in a few words, but it is a very serious matter, i was walking through the Via Ginori, when I came upon two men who were about to abduct your daughter. C>ne of them had nearly succeeded in fore- 256 COUNT VALDIMEB'B DISAPPOINTMENT. *!i W. hm ing her into a carriage, when her loud «;creain9 reached my ears. I catno upon the scene, and of course the villains fled ; that is all, but I beg that in the future you will not allow so young and lovely a girl to go to Vespei-s at this hour without a proper escort." During the brief and modest recital of the stranger, Hugo sat with his arm around his daughter motionless, like one stunned and deprived of all power. Then he put her away, and standing up, with an effort, he lifted his right hand to Heaven, and said impressively : " I needed but this to nerve my arm for revenge. Now the time has come, and the demon who has destroyed my peace of mind, brought contention and unhappi- ness into my home, shall reap the reward of his own deeds; and my child, my innocent, unhappy child, shall be saved from further danger." " Oh, papa ! " cried Lisa, with a terror-stricken face. " Do you know who did this ? " "Yes, ray child, I know who my enemy is,'' re- turned Hugo, with an expressive look at the girl. " Tell me, why did he do it ? Why did he wish to take me away ? " and, overcome by the very thought of her danger, she covered her face and began weeping again. " Poor child I she is completely unnerved," said the stranger, compassionately, " and it is your fii-st duty to calm and reassure her ; she seema to be entirely igno- v mitm^ i ^ wmmt' iPPOINTMENT. COUNT VALDIMER'S DISAPPOINTMENT. 257 • loud «5creain9 reached lie, and of course the beg that in the future lovely a girl to go to roper escort." recital of the stranger, is daughter motionless, f all power. Then he fith an effort, he lifted said impressively : " I ra for revenge. Now tion who has destroyed itention and unhappi- lie reward of his own iceut, unhappy child, ;er." a terror-stricken face. 10 my enemy is,'' re- ) look at the girl. Why did he wish to by the very thought of 56 and began weeping ly unnerved," said the . it is your firet duty to tna to be entirely igno- rant of any reason for this attack. If you suspect or know the person guilty of this outrage, toll me his iiauie, and I will see that he is punished by the laws of his country, which will be more sensible and effective than any personal vengeance." " Pardon mo, Signore, but 1 am the best judge of that. I have a long score to settle with this person- wrongs that no law can redress, injuries that can only be wiped out with blood. I am deeply indebted to you for your interest in my cliild. You liave saved her from a terrible fate, and henceforth my gratitude, my very life, all that I am or have, is laid at your feet ; but you must allow me to avenge my own wrongs in my own way. Now, tell us to whom we are indebted, so that my child may remember you in her prayere, and keep your memory green with her tears of grati- tude." "lam Count Enrico Altimonti," said the gentle- man, in a husky voice, while his eyes filled with tears, for the words of the strange creature before him had moved him deeply. "Count Enrico Altimonti," repeated Hugo slowly. " I know the name of Altimonti ; it was sacred to me for many yeare. I am glad to meet you now, and I would have a few words with you in private before you go. Lisa, my child, you may retire with Signora Pia.» •^ 258 COUNT VALDIMER'S DISAPPOINTMENT. Tho young girl bowed low, looking at Enrico with gentle, grateful glances, and, muniniring again and again her thanks, she loft the room, followed by his admiring, earnest gaze. When thoy were alone, Hugo closed the door care- fully, and, laying his long, thin hand on the arm of Enrico, ho said : " I like your face, and I am euro I can trust you, and depend upon your kindness to advise me in my trouble. When I tell you who ray enemy is, you will see that 1 have acted wisely in making a confidant of you. The man who has destroyed my happiness, who has taught my child to deceive me, who has won her love and confidence from me, and who has tried to rob me of her, is your cousin's husband, the Duke of Castellara." " It is impossible 1 " cried Enrico, with an expression of profound astonishment. " Surely tho Duke of Cas- tellara is incapable of such crimes ? " " One would think so, but nevertheless he is the vil- lain who would rob me of my only treasure, who would steal her from me. Oh, my God ! he would rob me of my child, the only thing I have on earth to love. It must not be; he must not live to take her from me," and Hugo looked wildly around, beating the air with his hands as though ho were warding off an ap- proaching danger. " I say he must not live ; for if he escapes ray vengeance he will accomplish my ruin, ■ ■* \APPOINTMEirT. cK)king at Enrico with [lunHuring again and •oom, followed by his 1 closed the door care- hand on the arm of Pace, and I am sure I pon your kindness to en I tell you who ray have acted wisely in Tlie man who has Eis taught my child to 'e and confidence from b me of her, is your Jastellara." ico, with an expression urely the Duke of Cas- es?" vertheless he is the vil- ily treasure, who would odl he would rob me have on earth to love, live to take her from iround, beating the air ere warding off an ap- aust not live ; for if he accomplish my ruinj ENniOO FAILS AS A MEDIATOR. 259 and I shall bo left alone and desolate. No I no! I cannot spare him, even though it costs me my bouI'b salvation." CHAPTER XVII. ENRICO FAILS AS A MEDIATOR. SBi|NRICO stood for some time looking at the miffi unhappy creature before him, silent from as- '^'^ tonishinent. Was it possible that his cousin's husband, a man of his age and position, could be guilty of such an outrage on a young and unpix)tected girl ? " Are you sure," he said at length, " that there is no mistake ? It seems incredible that the Duke of Castel- lara, who is no longer young, can be guilty of such an ignoble deed. What proofs have you that he is the man ? " Then Hugo told him of the Duke's mysterious visit to his studio during his absence, of his meeting him and seeing him enter his carriage, of finding the hand- kerchief at his very door, of the note and the appoint- ment in San Marco, of the anger and agitation of the Duchess when he, in his renewed confidence, had given the letter to her, believing it to have been hers, and of Lisa's stubborn silence concerning the whole affair. 860 ENRICO FAILS AS A MEDIATOR W f X yy "But, my friend, you Biirely cannot iniiijjino that bo young and lovely a girl aa your daughter can bo Intor- estod in a man who ia old enough to bo her father ? It is absurd. If ho were young and ImnaBomo, there would bo sonio reason to euspect her." " It n.«y be his wealth and position that have en- snared her, or he may be possessed with an evil puvor to win the confidence and love of women. He is a dangerous man. Oh I I kno'.v well how vilo and blacjk his heart is, and how basely he has betrayed others. But I do not say that my child encourages his atten- tions or returns his passion ; no, on the contrary, I think she repulses him, and because of that ho has re- sorted to this base means of gaining possession of her." " If she does not encourage him, if his attentious are obnoxious to her, why does she conceal the affair from you ? " said Eurico. " Would it not be more natural for her to confide in you and seek your protection against his pei-secution ? " " One would say so, Signoro ; and there is the mys- tery which I have been trying to unravel. I have been patient, and would not resort to any extreme measures until every other means failed ; but this last outrage demands my speedy vengeance, and, by Heaven 1 ho shall bo punished, even though lie be the Duke of Cas- tellara." Enrico talked a long while with the hunchback, aiK Co t'OI ter, wai ] foil aiK fro drc sin ( ha' fea oft t Bii wii II spi MEDIATOR vnnot iiimgiiio that bo laughter can bo intor- to bo her father 1 It and hanUBomo, there hor." )OBition that have en- ed with an evil pci ver of women. He is a ell how vilo and bla(jk has betrayed others, encourages his atten- no, on the contrary, I U180 of that ho has re- ing possession of her." m, if his attentions aro jonceal the affair from ; not be mora natural seek your protection and there is the mys- un ravel. I have been any extreme measures but this last outrage and, by Heaven 1 ho he be the Duke of Cas- with the hunchback, ENRICO FAILS AS A MEDIATOR. 261 reasoning witli him, endeavoring to calm his terrible anger, and disHiuido him from hirt fatal piirpoae, but in vain : the stnviigo, passionate nature of the man was fully aroused and only vengeance coukl satisfy his fury. After some kind advice regarding the young girl, and promises of assistance, if his aid were needed. Count Altimonti took leave, with a firm determina- t'on of discovering, if possible, the solution to the mys- tery, and of preventing a catastrophe which he feared was imminent. IIo first sought his cousin, the Duchess, whom he found alone, much to his satisfaction. She looked pale and sad ; and seemed absorbed in painful thought, from which she aroused herself to welcome him with a dreary smile and a cold clasp of the hand. "You are a stranger, Enrico; I have not seen you since the night of our conversation at the opera." "No, I believe not," returned Enrico gravely. "I have kept away from you purposely, for I sometimes fear 1 weary you with my advice, which I atn sure is often unwelcome." "You judge so, cousin, from my not acting upon it But the time has not yet come when I can do as you wish. I have been thinking seriously of what you said, I have been trying to arrive at some determination re- specting Nordiskoff, but, for my life, I cannot resolve to give him up while I believe he entertains such an affec- 262 BNRICO FAILS Ad A MEDIATOH. tionforino. If I coukllni conviiicod tlmt ho no longer loves ino, tlmt ho loves another, then it would bo an easy matter, for my pride would como to my aid, and I should despirto him where I now lovo him. Say, Enrico, cannot you convince mo that Valdimer is un- faithfuU You wish to do nie a kindness, you wish to Bavo mo from trouble and dishonor, you wish to boo my heart at peace and free from those disastrous con- flicts. Now, you who know him so intimately, who are so well acquainted with his private life, tell me, do you suspect him of any secret intrigue, any preference for another ? " " What an absurd question to ask, Elena ! "Why, all Florence knows him to be your most dovotod admirer, your faithful friend, nay, almost your slave. It is an accepted fact that ho sees nothing or nobody beyond the Duchess of Castellara, that he is waiting and serv- ing as patiently as that long-suffering individual we read of in the Bible ; for is it not nearly seven years since ho put your welcome fettei*9 about his neck, and bowed head and heart at your feet?" " Pray, do not jest, Enrico. I am in earnest, and it shows that I still have some desire to save myself when I wish to be disenthralled from my own illusions, for, after all, my love for Valdimer may be but an illusion. It would, indeed, be a mercy to me, if you could con- vince rae that he is insincere and unfaithful." i MEDIATOH /iiicoil timt ho no longer or, then it would bo an Id coino to my aid, and [ now lovo him. Siiy, 110 that Valdimer is iin- a kindness, you wish to rthonor, you wish to boo n these disastroua con- liin BO intimately, who private life, tell me, do ntrigne, any preference ask, Elena ! "Why, all r most devoted admirer, 9t yonr slave. It is an hing or nobody beyond he is waiting and serv- mffering individual we ; not nearly seven years era about his neck, and 'eet«" I am in earnest, and it lire to save myself when ri my own illusions, for, may be but an illusion. ) me, if you could con- id unfaithful." ENlllCO FAJLti AS A MEDIATOR. 208 « But I cannot, cousin, bocau«e 1 do not think so. I fear that he loves you t(M> woU." •♦Why do you say that you fear Ike Wo* mo too well \ Has it really come to that 1 Is hie \uve for mo II misfortune to him J " "It is, Elena, for it may bo tho means of his dc»tlu I heard a few houi-s ago, from g(Kjd authority, thai Castellara intends to challouge him at once, an.i that I shall have to act as second for one or th« other, ««r decline both, is also a certainty. You can understa.wl ,ny dilemma. Valdimer is my friend, and Castel- lara is yonr husband. If I refuse one, I make him my enemy. If 1 refuse both, my position is no better. A catastrophe is inevitable unless you avert if-" X. . "II how can I avert it, pray ? " cried the Duchiess excitedly. « What can I do 1" " I will tell you, Elena, and I entreat that in this case yon will take my advice. Leave Florence early to-morrow for one of your country places-for Kome, for Naples, or wherever you pi-efer, and take your husband with you." » Oh, Enrico I you must be insane. I take Castel- lara with me ? Why, I have not spoken to him for months ; that is a ridiculous proposition." « By doing it you may save your husband's life." « I do not wish to save it, you know I do not," she 364 ENRICO FAILS AS A MEDIATOR. died passionately. "I would not go out of iny way in the least to save him from a dozen deaths." "Then, if not for Casvollara, perhaps you will for Yaldimer. You know your husband's reputation as a duellist. Who ever escaped from his hands with his life ? " The Duchess turned deadly pale, but replied reso- lutely : " It is of no uso, Enrico, to strive to work upon my feelings in this way. The crisis must co:ne, sooner or later ; my running away from it would not avert it, it would only delay it ; T am resolved to see an end of this, for I am weary of this fierce conflict. You will think mc a monster if I confess the truth to you; nevertheless, I will. I prefer that this duel should take place. If Castellara falls, I am free. If Valdimer falls, I shall be spared the pain of giving him up to another ; I would rather a thousand times see him dead before me than to lose his love, than to know him false ; and that may be my fate if he lives." " Oh 1 Elena, how can you be so cruel, bo obdurate? Have you no pity on these two men, who will madly throw away their lives for you ? " " Enrico, I am now waat I told you long ago I should become — a monster instead of a woman. Do not re- proach me, do not blame me. Leave me to myself, to my own torture, but remember that I was once pitiful and gentle, pure and good, until eveiything holy was MEDIATOR lot go out of iny way lozen deaths." perhaps you will for iband's reputation as a )m his hands with his pale, but replied reso- co, to strive to work The crisis must come, pay from it would not T am resolved to see of this fierce conflict. I confess the truth to prefer that this duel i-a falls, I ana free. If ed the pain of giving ther a thousand times lose his love, than to be my fate if he lives." so cruel, so obdurate? 1 men, who will madly Id you long ago I should a woman. Do not re- jeaveme to myself, to that I was once pitiful 1 eveiything holy waa ENRICO FAILS AS A MEDIATOR. 205 blighted by the deception and cruelty of others. I did not create this demon in me, and I cannot control it ; those who made me what 1 am must suffer the conse- quences of their sin." Eurico did not reply, but sat in deep thought for a few moments. He was striving to find some means of saving Castellara from the hunchback's vengeance, without exposing his baseness to his wife. Ketribution was following fast upon the steps of the hoary-headed sinner, and although he merited his punishment, yet Count Altimonti desired to save him, if possible. At length he said, gravely and gently: "My dear cousin, I sometimes think you show me the worst side of your nature, for I am sure you have a noble heart, ar.d are capable of some self-sacrifice for others, if not for those who have wronged yon, for the defenceless and innocent who have never in any way crossed your path. I appeal to you in behalf of a young, pure girl whom your husband is pui-suing and hunting down. Only an hour ago 1 saved her from the vile hands of a ruffian who was about to abduct her. She has a father, a man of .most ungovernable temper, who knows that thi- minion was employed by Castellara, on whom he has sworn to be revenged. He has sworn to follow the Duke and. not to rest until he sees him dead at his feet. But this may be only the threat of a half -demented crea- ture, who is not aware of the power he has to contend 12 266 ENRICO FAILS A8 A MEDIATOR. against, and, in spite of his fnry, the innocent, lovely girl may yet be stolen from him and ruined forever. Take her under your protection and she will be safe, for the Duke will not dare to pereecute her in your presence." « Who is this unfortunate creature whoso cause you wish me to espouse ? " « She is the daughter of a poor, deformed artist." "What! the daughter of Hugo, the famous sculp- tor?" « I did not know that he was the famous sculptor 1 have heard so much of, but his name is Hugo." « He lives in the Via San Gallo 1 " "Yes, and he seems very unfortunate and wretched, in spite of his genius. The girl is lovely, and he wor- ships her, and he is quite beside himself with fury and indignation. If Castellara remains In Florence, and he can see him, he will certainly do him some harm." « So you would have me save my husband from the anger of an infuriated father whose daughter he would ruin ? » cried the Ducliess with a hard, scornful laugh. « Truly, Enrico, you expect too much of me ; but what reason has the hunchback to think that Castellara is the guilty individual \ " «He has what he considers the best of reasons, the strongest of proofs." « Poor, deluded man, he is mistaken," said the Duch- MEDIATOS. f, the innocent, lovely 1 and ruined forever, and she will be safe, jereecute her in yonr iture whoso cause you )r, deformed artist." ugo, the famous sculp- fi the famous sculptor is name is Hugo." Jlo?" 'ortunate and wretched, 1 is lovely, and he wor- 3 himself with fury and ains in Florence, and he lo him some harm." 3 my husband from the rhose daughter he would 1 a hard, scornful laugh. . much of me ; but what think that Castellara is the best of reasons, the dstaken," said the Duch- ENRICO FAILS AS A MEDIATOR 267 ess with a sudden flash of the eyes. « It is not Castel- lara, but I know who it is that loves the pretty Lisa, and I will protect her from him. You can tell Signor Hugo that he is mistaken. Castellara does not want his daughter ; but another does from whom he will have to gnard her with the greatest vigilance. But I will see him, I will take the girl under n)y own care. Yes, I will watch her closely ; so closely that her lover will never find her." « Thank you, cousin. It seems that I have come to the very one that can best protect her, since you know wliere the danger lies. Now, I will see Castellara and try all my powers of persuasion to induce him not to engage in a duel with Valdimer, and then all may be well, and this cloudy horizon become bright and clear again. « As you like, cousin. I am indifferent. I care not how it ends ; you are strong and hopeful, and I have lost all faith and trust in anything good, and am weak and wavering." « Do not despair, Elena ; there must be some happi- ness in store for you. Look on the bright side of things. Take care of that lovely child who needs your protec- tion, and I will succeed in bringing about a reconcilia- tion between Castellara and Valdimer, and all will go smoothly again," The Duchess looked after her cousin as he went m- 268 ENBICO FAILS AS A MEDIATOR. away, and said, bitterly: "And so he too has seen her and is interested in her. He will love her, and Valdi- iner loves her. She is young and beautiful, and I am old and worn. 1 have lost my power over the only heart I cared for in the world, and that child, that igno- rant, low-born child, has won hira from me. Good Heavens! how desperate his passion and impatience must be when he resorts to such means to possess her. And Enrico has frustrated his plans. In that he has been my friend, and he asks me to protect her from Castellara. It is not Castellara I will protect her from, but from Valdimer Nordiskoff." When Enrico sought the presence of the Duke of Castellara, he found him in his room, contrary to his expectation; for, although he had received a request from him to act as his second in the intended duel, he scarcely thought to find him quietly at home if he was in any way concerned in the abduction of Lisa. Instead 6i meeting him with an air of excited ex- pectancy and assumed youthfulness, such as would have been the case had he been engaged in so question- able an act of gallantry, he looked old and worn and very serious, and there was a grim determination in his voice as he welcomed Enrico. "Elena is right," thought the Count, "and the hunchback is wrong. The girl has some other lover than Castellara. There is some mystery that I have MEDIATOR. so he too has seen her ill love her, and Valdi- id beautiful, and I am J power over the only id that child, that igno- hira from me. Good )as8ion and impatience h means to possess lier. plans. In that he has [ue to protect her from I will protect her from, •esence of the Duke of is room, contrary to his had received a request in the intended duel, he uietly at home if he was bduction of Lisa, th an air of excited ex- ifulness, Buch as would n engaged in so question- ooked old and worn and nvax determination in his b the Count, "and the rirl has some other lover ome mystery that 1 have ENRICO FAILS AS A MEDIATOR 269 not yet fathomed. What could the Duke have been doing there 1 It was his handkerchief, certainly, with his coat-of-arms and monogram in the corner; and the hunchback is positive as to the waiting carriage, the liveries of the servants, and the man whom he met at his door. He followed him, and there can be no doubt but what the secret visitor to the studio was the Duke ; and yet the Duchess seems positive in her assertion that it was not her husband, and she is always ready to be- lieve anything evil of him. I would give much to know whom she suspects ; her manner and her expres- sion were strange. If there was any reason in such a statement I should say she spoke and looked like one devoured with jt^alousy ; but that cannot be, she does not care enough for the Dnke to be moved by any infi- delity on his part; beside, she declares that it was not he, and his manner now certainly confirms her opinion. There is a mystery that neither Hugo nor I can under- stand at present, but, doubtless, time and circumstances will make everything clear." " I am glad you have come, Enrico," said the Dnke, offering his visitor a chair and drawing another close beside him, « for I am impatient to have this matter settled at once; say to-morrow morning at six o'clock, and I can depend on you, can I not "i " « I should rather dissuade you from a quarrel with Nordiskoff, Duke." 270 ENRICO FAILS AS A MEDIATOR. t « What ! would you try to prevent rao from avenging my dishonor and yonrs also, for is not my wife your cousin ? I do not understand you, Enrico. This insolent Eussian has ruined the reputation of tlio Duchess of Castellara, and you would have me sit quietly at home and endure it 1 Where is your pride, your honor, the just resentment you should feel against this man who has disgraced your cousin ? " • « I cannot agree with you, Duke, that my cousin is disgraced unless this duel takes place ; that.alone will injure her reputation ; as it is, the malicious world only suspects, and no living being dare assert aught against the fair fame of the Duchess of Castellara. But if .her husband, who should protect her from dishonor, is the first to declare it by fighting with his rival, then, in- deed, her ruin is completed." "And you think I have no just cause 1" cried the Duke, his metallic eyes flashing like polished steel. "None whatever, except what your jealousy cre- ates." « You are insane, Enrico. I have every proof that my wife and Nordiskoff are imprudently intimate." « Hush, Duke, on the instant, or /will be the one to fight with you. If you have no respect for your wife, I will compel you to have some for my cousin." "Hal hat that sounds well, my young friend, but wait until you hear what I have to tell you," said the MEDIATOP. Bnt rao from avenging is not my wife your you, Enrico. Thia e reputation of tlio L would have me sit Where is your pride, ou should feel against cousin ? " ike, that my cousin is place ; that, alone will le malicious world only re assert aught tigainst Castellara. Bnt if .her sr from dishonor, is the rith his rival, then, in- ust cause 1 " cried the like polished steel, lat your jealousy cre- have every proof that orvdently intimate." or /will be the one to a respect for your wife, I for my cousin." my young friend, but ve to tell you," said the ENRICO FAILS AS A MEDIATOR. 271 Duke with a mocking laugh, « and than I think you will be as anxious to kill Nordiskoff as I am." « I care not what you tell me ; no power on earth can make mo doubt my cousin's virtue. That she feels a deep and pure fi-iendship-call it love, if you prefer— for Count Valdimer, I am aware, for she makes no secret of it, and if she were free to-day she would be- come his wife, but as for the vile assertion you make, that is false, and it shall not pass your lips nnre- eeuted," cried Enrico hotly. « Calm yourself, I pray, for you but waste your anger on a most unworthy cause. What would you say if I should tell you that the Duchess of Castellara meets her lover clandestinely." « I should say that you were an infamous liar," and Enrico glared defiantly at the Duke, who remained calm and grimly determined, without appearing to notice the insult. "Tour language is a little immoderate, but I will let it pass for the present, for I have an affair of more impoi-tance on ray mind. Pray allow me to continue my statement of facts; unpleasant though they may be, I am determined to lay them before you. For the last three weeks your cousin, the Duchess of Castel- lara, has met Count Valdimer Nordiskoff in a hum- ble house in the Via di San GaUo, at least a dozen times." M 979 ENRICO FAILS AS A MEDIATOR « Be careful, Duke, how you make snch assertiona, unless yon can prove thotn." " I have the best of proof —my own eyes. I have not hired a spy to watch her movements, I have followed her myself, and have seen her enter this house and re main there a long time." Enrico started, and said eagerly : « Well, what more have you seei'. ? " «I have seen Count Nordiskoff enter the same house." " And what does that prove 1 " " It proves that the Duchess of Castellara and her lover both visit secretly a humble house in a poor suburb of the city; there is but one inference to be drawn." "It may be an accident, a coincidence; nothing more." " Madre di Dio ! Enrico, this is too absurd," cried the Duke, angrily. " You are a man of the world, and you know well enough that it is no accident. What accident could bring them together at the same house, the same day, and in an unfrequented part of the city ? " « Is it not the house of Hugo, the famous sculptor, that the Duchess visits ? " « I know not who dwells there. It is a house with but one story above the mezsonino ; and there is a green gate to the court." MEDIATC-n. make snch assertions, ■ owii eyes. I have not lents, I have followed iter this house and re ly : « Well, what more ikoff enter the same of Castellara and her nble house in a poor it one inference to be coincidence ; nothing B is too absurd," cried , man of the world, and is no accident. What ther at the same house, ented part of the city ? " fo, the famous sculptor, re. It is a house with onino : and there is a ENRICO FAILS AS A MEDIATOR. 273 « The very place where the artist lives. The Duch- ess admires the work of this remarkable genius greatly ; then what more likely than that she goes there to attend to some commission ? " " And the Count Valdimer, does he go there for the enmo purpose?" asked the Duke with cutting sarcastn. Enrico made no reply for a moment, but seemed to be thinking deeply. At last he said : « PerhaiiS this artist may have a pretty daughter who attracts Nordis- koff." « I know not whether he has a daughter, and I care not. You will not blind me with any such flimsy ex- cuses." « Ah 1 " thought Enrico, "the Duchess was not mis- taken when she said that some other than Castellara was the girl's lover. There is no acting here ; he is perfectly honest in what he says, and too deeply moved to resort to any ruses to mislead me. It is as clear as day to me, now. Valdimer is in love with the angelic Lisa. It was he who visited her. It was he who tried to abduct her, and the Duchess suspects him because of the letter Hugo found, and makes some excuse to go there that she may have positive proof before she accuses him. And Castellara has been indiscreet enough to follow his wife and linger around the artist's house in order to confront her when she was leaving, or to attack NordiskofE secretly. In some of these 18» m 274 ENRICO FAILS AS A MEDIATOR. visits tho hunchback has seen him, and eager to accept any proof that will solve the mystery of his daiightor'fl conduct, ho has fixed upon the Duke." Feeling confident that this was the solution to the whole problem, Enrico tried, with all his power of per- suasion, to convince the Duke. But it was useless ; he was fully satisfied of his wife's infidelity, and deter- mined to be revenged ujwn his rival. « It is u8oles,s to try to avert the catastrophe, Enrico," ho said sternly. " I am resolved to kill Nordiskoff. I shall meet him to-morrow morning at six o'clock." " Then, Duko, I must decline twer of per- But it was useless ; he s infidelity, and deter- rival. le catastrophe, Enrico," 1 to kill Nordiskoff. I ing at six o'clock." 1 to act as your second ; oijflrm my oouwin's dis- "o will fight, then, with- > duel shall bo s-tiictly less's name will not be B write to Nordiskoff to jk, wherever he prefers, weapons. Then one or am resolved to end this can be honorably con- r him or me. You will Id, Enrico, and tell the not survive, that if she I, she will wed her hus- CIIAPTER XVIII. TIXT. DUEL. IlIE night that followed the attempted abduc- tion of Lisa was a terrible one to the poor hunchback. During the long and weary hours of silence and darkness, he paced back and forth in the vast studio, never pausing to sleep or rest, for a terrible purpose had taken possession of hitn, and he was struggling with it fiercely, striving to conquer it in vain ; turning over and over in his mind every reason for and against the act he contemplated. He was not a depraved being ; he had not a cruel nature ; there was much that was good and noble in his com- pound character, a mixture of tenderness and gentle- ness with vindictive hate and tigerish ferocity. The good was on the surface and' appeared uppermost in his daily life. The evil was the lower strata, that only the deepest wrong, tiie strongest desire for revenge could reach ; but, when once touched and troubled, no earthly power could calm or allay the demon that raged with awful fury. Since his earliest childhood there had been one un- dying purpose in his heait, one intense, deep-rooted :M I !l ) P ft IV 270 TITP! DUEL. liiito fttid dnsiro for vennjcanco. ITo liad coii(!onle(l it fltid uonrisliod it in secret, and kept it ftlive with tlio memory of hia >n .ther'* tears, her poverty, and deiith, and his own despised sitforing childhood, cuftt out from all human love Pnd pity; a forlorn, untV,rtiumto <;reatnre thrown upon the mercy of a hard world, to live or die as it might happen. Ai)d who had been the cause of his mother's woe and ruin, his own poverty and suffering, but the author of his beiiKr, his father, who had only looked upon him oiice, and then with loathing ? It was not natural, one iiught say, for i\ <\iM to hate the being who gave him life ; but Hugo was in a degree unnatural, his nature was as crooked and dwarfed as his person, and this man, even though he was his father, had wrought him only evil. He owod him nothing but suffering, and Bcorn, and misery I then why should he feel that affec- tion which, after all, is more the result of patient, faith- ful love bestowed on a child by a parent, than any natural impulse ? As I said, he had always hated the man who had wrought such woe for his mother, such misery for him- self, and had cherished the deep-rooted determination to revenge his mother's wrongs and his own mis- fortunes if his enemy ever crossed his path. Tni as - the years passed away and the bitter sorrows of his early days were blurred and softened by time, he ITo liftd con(!cnle(l it kept it ftlive with tlio ur poverty, niid death, g ehililh(M»(l, cast out a forlorn, untortiinafo :'y of a hard world, to le of his mothor'a woe iffering, but the author I only looked upon him [t waB not natural, one le being who gave him e tninatural, his nature 18 his person, and this ithor, had wrought him ling but suffering, and lould he feel that affec- ) result of patient, f alth- by a parent, than any ated the man who had er, such misery for him- ap-rooted determination igs and his own mis- >ssod his path. Vnt as 16 bitter sorrows of his softened by time, he IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) V f{<5 1.0 I.I IflM IIIIIM ■^ !■■ mil 2 2 1.8 11-25 111.4 11.6 ^ ^V^ 7 Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. U580 (716) 872-4503 ^^^^" ^ \#% ^ L '^13'?5iBaM!S3Sg'igSiaSS!Sr>T»e!»?s»jaH^^ 4^ .<5> '^ «' CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHM/ICMH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques KM?.- TBE DUEL. 277 ceased to feel the keen desire for vengeance, the gnaw- hvr hatred toward this unknown father, until he dis- covered the danger that threatened his adored child. This aroused the demon slumbering witliin him, and it Beemed as though, with one fatal stroke, ho could avenge all the wrongs that had blighted his life. The Duke of Castellara represented the betmyer, the spoiler of the innocent and defenceless, one who Bought to ruin the girl he loved so passionately, and the°only being on earth who loved him ; and he would deceive her and blight her sweet, young life, crush her, and kill her as some one had his mother. And so he paced the night away, restlessly longing for the dawn, that he might begin his work of retribu- tion, his face ghastly, his eyes wild and red, his long, thin hands clenched convulsively, and his bent body shaking as though an ague racked him from head to foot. «A little while," he said, « but a little while and the hunger in my soul shall be satisfied ; hate, revenge, and all the dark desires that fill my heart shall be sur- feited. I will pursue b-m, I will follow him like his shadow until the moment comes when I can strike him to the heart. Oh ! blissful moment, so long desired, thou art near, thou art near." He watched the horizon faintly reddening in the east, the banner of the sun unfolding in the fair hands THE DUEL. of the morning, the pearly and violet clouds breaking up and floating away from the gate of dawn, and he thought : " Before this same sun goes down, he will be where ho can work no more mischief. Ilis proud head will be laid low, his cruel heart colder in death than it ever was in life ; his ear as deaf to the raUsic of the world he loved, as it was to the cries of anguish he BO often wrung from his defenceless victims. Gray- haiied sinner, I will send thee nnshriven to the place prepared for thee ; thou shalt not vex her sweet soul in paradise, thou shalt be consumed in eternal torture, ■while she yon would ruin will one day live with God in peace." At last the dim light of early dawn beamed into the studio, and Hugo, creeping softly to the door of Lisa's room, listened intently. Her quiet, regular breathing, told him that the girl was sleeping the unbroken sleep of the iimocent. With a trembling step he approached the bed where she lay like the rosy goddess of youth and love, her silken lashes resting on her cheek, her golden hair making a halo round her head, her sweet lips parted, showing the pearls beneath, one white, exquisitely moulded arm thrown upward over the pillow, and the other palm pressed under her flushed cheek. As she lay there, wrapped in repose, she seemed more like a lovely picture than a living being, and the poor hunchback, with his haggard face, marred by the iolet clouds breaking gate of dawn, and he goes down, he will be lief, Ilis proud head iolder in death than it ,f to the raUsic of the e cries of anguish ho jeless victims. Gray- nshriven to the place t vex her sweet soul in 3d in eternal torture, me day live with God dawn beamed into the J to the door of Lisa's let, regular breathing, ng the unbroken sleep ng step he approached rosy goddess of youth esting on her cheek, ) round her head, her ! pearls beneath, one brown upward over the jsed under her flushed :d in repose, she seemed a living being, and the rd face, marred by the THE DUEL. 279 evil demon that possessed him, looked like a weird spirit of darkness hovering near her. For a moment he stood silently gazing at her, then slowly there dawned upon his face an expression of un- utterable love and sorrow, and tears — large, hot tears- gathered and fell from his eyes like drops of rain from the heavy clouds preceding a tempest. "Ohl my treasure, my darling, was ever a human being loved as I love you ? " he murmured in a husky voice. " I would give every drop of my heart's blood for you, I would suffer tortures to save you from one moment of pain, and yet you think me harsh and cruel, and with- hold your love and confidence from me. Now, to save you, I am about to stain my soul with the blood of a fellow-creature ; I am about to become a monster, a wretch, to be feared and abhorred by all, to be hunted down and driven from the earth. And yet I do not hesitate ; to save you 1 would commit any sin, I would endure any punishment. God knows I did not bring this upon myself; I have wronged no one; I have lived in peace apart from the world; I have asked nothing, except a place to labor in and a shelter for this child I worship. And the humble sanctuary of my home has been invaded, my happiness destroyed, and my Lisa's honor endangered by this gray-haired, ruthless spoiler. But I will save you, I will protect you, even though it costs me ray life. Now, farewell. K^jj^^JSafe ^H^ j WaS'4w*;j7 < tf i ftpitWW iy W*W . * 'Tria i at fa:. ;.w < j.i it i i l>f i - i ni r S w M*" -^ 280 THE DUEL When your miserable father looks tipoTi yon again he will be'a murderer;" then stooping, he pressed his lips to her hair and garments with passionate fervor, not daring to touch her face lest ho should awaken her, and with a long-drawn, convulsive sob he went away without one backward glance. When he reached the streets, the city was already awake. The patient toilers were hastening to their toil, rubbing sleep from their heavy eyelids as they went. The air was fresh and damp with a frosty chill ; but it did not cool the fever of his scorching brow and burning eyes, nor quench the fires of passion raging within him. Without looking to the right or left, he hurried on rapidly, and never paused until he reached the Ponte Vecchio. The merchants were just opening their shops, and more than one looked after him and wondered why Signor Hugo was abroad so early. An old man standing in a door, with his hands under his leather apron, spoke to him, and he looked up like one in a dream. « Whither .are you hurrying so fast, this morning, i«y friend?" The hunchback stopped suddenly, and pushing his hat from his foi-ehead, wiped off the great drops of sweat that had gathered there, and then replied, in a strange, absent voice : « I am but out for the air and exerciee; too close 3 npoTi yon again he (T, he pressed his lips lassionate fervor, not shonld awaken her, e Bob he went away the city was already e hastening to their icavy eyelids as they ip with a frosty chill ; 8 scorching brow and •es of passion raging ) the right or left, he nsed nntil he reached mts were just opening looked after him and abroad so early. An I his hands under his he looked up like one fast, this morning, i\jy enly, and pushing his iff the great drops of and then replied, in a nd exerciee; too close THE DUEL. 281 attention to my work has made me nervous and weakly, Master Ercole." "By my faith, you do look poorly. Sit yon down and rest a bit." Hugo entered the little shop of Ercole, who was an armorer, and looking about carelessly he said, " How goes your business, friend Ercole? I see you have a good stock of arms upon your walls." « Indeed I have many more than I wish, but these times of peace are not favorable to my trade ; however, it is otherwise with you, Signore, for I hear that you are well np in the world, with more ordere from the nobility than you can easily attend to." "Yes, fortune favors me, and I am truly to be envied," returned Hugo with gloomy sarcasm. « Well, it's time some good luck came to you, for yon have had your share of trouble as well as another." " That is tr^ie, my friend," said Hugo, walking to the far end of the shop and taking a dagger from a hook, which he turned in his hand, running his finger carelessly over the blade. "This weapon is of curious and antique workmanship. I like the handle, it is truly an artistic design." " Yes, it is an antique, a Toledo blade, and a cinque- cento handle." " What do you value it at? " " Oh ! Signore, in these times it is nselesa to talk of > THE DUEL. the value of a thing. I have had it a long time, and I will sell it for »ix scudi.'" " Very well ; it pleases me, and I will take it. I have a fancy for antiquities, as you know, and my means will allow me to indulge my taste now and then," returned Hugo as he counted out the money. Then, wishing the armorer good morning, he put the dagger under his coat and went out hastily. "An early bird catches the worm," mused Master Ercole, as lie watched the hunchback hurry down the bridge ; « and such a valuable worm-why, 1 have made more than five scudi on that bargain; but I wonder what is the matter with the Gobho,he seems excited and more absent-minded than usual, and he is a strange ci-eature always. Five «cwi», what luck ; five «c«<^i be- fore breakfast— I wish I might make it every day," and Master Ercole stationed himself at the door again in the hope of catching another worm. Hugo, with the dagger pressed close to hie heart, hurried over the bridge, and down the Lung' Amo, in the direction of the palace of the Duke of Cast«l- lara. Just as he reached the comer, near the grand entrance, a carriage drove out of the court, and passed him rapidly, and one glance through the window showed him the face he hated with deadly hate, as haggard, as pale, and worn as his own, looking, with grim determination, out at the busy streeta, as though THE DUEL. 283 I it a long time, and I I I will take it. I have )\v, and my means will w and then,?' returned d morning, he put the )ut hastily. vorm," mused Master iback hurry down the rm — why, 1 have made largain ; but I wonder »Wo, he seems excited ual, and he is a strange lat luck ; five scudi be- t make it every day," iself at the door again worm. Bed close to his heart, lown the Lung' Arno, of the Duke of Castftl- conier, near the grand )f the court, and passed ( through the window id with deadly hate, as his own, looking, with I busy streets, as though it saw nothing near, for the cold metallic gaze was fixed on something within its own visicm. Perhaps it was the dead face of a rival, or some haunti.ig mem- cry of long ago that roee before the Duke of Castellara ill the clear morning air. The hunchback, on catching a glimpse of the occu- pant of the carriage, uttered a sharp cry, which sounded more like the howl of a wild beast than anything human, and started as though he were about to rush after his enemy, when a second thought convinced him that such a course was foolish, and but a waste of time. Looking around, he saw a non- descript vehicle creeping along slowly, with a driver only half awake upon the box. Beckoning to tlie man as he approached, Hugo held out. a piece of gold, and said, eagerly, "Keep that carriage in sight, and tliis sliall bo yours." " All right, Signore ; get in quickly, and I will do it," replied the Jehu, fully awake at the sight of the money. After some rapid driving and turning through -. number of streets, the carriage in advance suddeuiy stopped, and the Duke descended. Saying a few words to the driver, who turned back, he glanced hastily around him, and theii walked away in the direction of the Cascine. Hugo, far enough behind to escape observation, also _M 2S4 THE DUEL. descended, pai^, »'«! diBmisscd his driver, and then caiitiouBly f..llowed the Duke until they were near the Porla al Prato, when another carriage rapidly turned into the V^ia al Prato, and stopped a few paces from the hunchhack, who saw with surprise his patron, the Russian Count, Valdiiner Nordiskoff, get out hastily, dismiss his servant, and then hurry away toward the Cascine. What conld this mean 1 At first Hugo thought that gome special Providence had ordered the Duke of Cas- tellara out for an early morning walk, for the express purpose of giving him an opportunity to wreak his vengeance upon him in some retired spot of the gar- den? But why was Nordiskoff here also? Had he too some wrong to requite, and was he about to cheat him out of his much-desired revenge? This thought mad- dened him, for now that he saw his victim before him, his fingers longed to clench the dagger that was to drink his heart's blood. Both were in advance of him, and as they entered the gate, they tnrned in different directions to avoid the observation of the custodian or gardeners, for two distinguished-looking men, in spite of their plain dress, and their being on foot, could not fail to attract some attention at that early hour. No one noticed the hunchback, as with bowed form and bent head he wandered wildly from one path to TUE DUEL. 286 1 his driver, and then Dtil thoy were near tlie arriago rapijUy turned ped a tow paces from mrprise his patron, the liskoff, get out hastily, liurry away toward the first Hugo thought that dered the Duke of Cas- g walk, for the express portunity to wreak hia retired spot of the gar- here also \ Had ho too B he about to cheat him re? This thought mad- «r his victim before him, the dagger that was to im, and as they entered rent directions to avoid an or gardeners, for two spite of their plain dress, i not fail to attract some ick, as with bowed form wildly from one path to another, searching every thicket and clump of trees with his burning eyes to discover the figures that ho had entirely lost siglit of. Wlioro could they liavo con- waled themselves? Had thoy come to tight, and wcro thoy already engaged in deadly combat in some eeclu- dcd spot of the garden where he could not find them, and now, when his triumph was so near, was he about to bo defrauded of his bloodthirsty purpose ? Like some wild beast that had suddenly lost the scout of its prey, he turned and rushed hither and thither, among the winding paths, the sweet, silent solitude, under the BluidowB of the trees, in and out, bewildered and mad- dened. He sought them in vain. If the earth had opened and swallowed them thoy could not have disap- peared more qnickly and more completely. At last, hearing a sound, he stood still and listened. It was nothing but the shrill voice of a bird calling to its mate. Again he rushed on until he gained the far- ther boundary of the garden where the trees grew closer and the shadows were denser, and there distinctly another sound smote his ear ; with bated breath and staring eyes he bent his head and hollowed his hands behind his eara to catch the metallic click, click, sharp and clear on the still morning air. It was the unmistakable clashing of rapiers and the two men were fighting near him. Stooping low and creeping cautiously among the underbrush in the di- tt,S««>***^ M$ TJIB DUEL. rcction of the sound, a few paces frotn him he saw a small open glade bordered by tall trees that protected it from the rays of the sun as well as from tbc obtrii- bIvo eyes of the pafisers-by. Shut in by this solid wall of shrubbery, lingo had some dilHculty in Obtaining a view of the two men, but at last, by gently parting the bonghs and creeping slowly and softly forward, he suc- ceeded in concealing hhnself behind the trunk of a tree where he could command the situation without being seen by the combatants. There, face to face, with deadly hate in each keen, steady glance, and cool determination in each well-con- trolled stroke, stood the Dnke of Castellara and Count Valdimer Nordiskt.ff. They were well matched in skill, each equally calm, self-possessed, and watchful, with unflinching gaze, firmly compressed lips, and strongly nerved arm, each thrust and parry was well studied and masterly. As Hugo watched them in breathless silence, it was difficult to tell which would be the victor, they seemed so well matched as to skill, so resolute as to intention, so thoroughly resolved, so unyielding. Each well- directed stroke was met with an equally well-directed defence, and there was no faltering, no advantage for several moments on either side. The hunchback stood opposite Valdimer, and per- haps some movement on his part startled the Duke'a TUB DUEL. 2S7 OS from him he saw ft 11 trco8 that protectod 'oil aa from the obtrii- \\t ill by this solid wall lilliculty in obtaining a t, by gently parting the softly forward, ho snc- )ohind the trnnk of a i the situation without dly hate in each keen, nation in each wcU-con- jf Castellara and Count Hrere well matched in assessed, and watchful, y compressed lips, and ust and parry was well jreathless silence, it waa I the victor, they seemed resolute as to intention, myielding. Each well- an equally well-directed tering, no advantage for site Valdimer, and per- part startled the Duke'a opiwncnt and attracted his attention, for his eyes sud- doiily lost thoir steady, fixed gaze, his eyelids q\iivcrod, mid a deeper pallor orcj)t over his face. The sight of tho haggard figure behind the tree had terriliod and lumorvcd him. What was ho doing there 1 Had ho, too, come to be avenged upon him ? was the thought that passed like lightning through Nordiskoff's mind raiisin"- him to lose his advantage, to faltor, to waver; but just as tho Duke was about to make a lunge at liis unprotected breast, his rapier was strnck aside by a sharp blow, and the hunchback rushed between tlicm with a frenzied cry. « Go ! " ho said, pushing Valdimer aside, " ai»d leave him to me. I have a greater wrong than you to avenge," and before the Duke could put himself on tho defensive, Hugo plunged his dagger to the hilt into the breast that was filled with such, burning hate for another. «My Godl" cried NordiskofE. "What have you donol" And springing forward he supported tho Duke, who was sinking to the ground, his dilated eyes fixed upon the hunchback with a look of horror. « Leave me 1 " he groaned, feebly waving Hugo away with his faPt-failing strength. « I am dying. What evil spirit is here to torment me 1 Take him away, Amata, he is a horror to me. I loathe him, I hate him, I will not see him I " w^' 288 THE DUEL. Il- ls • "Ila! ha!" laughed the ImncUl.ack, with devilish glee. " My time has come. I torment you, and that is well. I have longed, and hungered, and thirsted for this moment." • ' "Amata! Araata!" cried the Duke in a sinking, husky voice. « Your Amata is not here, but her wretched, de- spised father is before yon to avenge his wrongs." "For God's sake, stand aside 1" cried Valdimer, trying to support the Duke ; "he is dying, and we can do nothing for him. Do you not see that you torment him ? Move aside, so that he camiot look at you." But Hugo pressed nearer and nearer, bending to- ward the prostrate man until his fast glazing eyes, with their look of horror, could see no longer the fiendish face gloating over his last agony. « He is dead I " said Valdimer, laying the heavy head gently down on the soft turf. « Yes, he is dead, and I thank God that my hand dealt the fatal blow. Now she is safe f roux his deceiv- ino-, and my vengeance is satisfied." « What cause had you to hate hira so bitterly ? " cried Valdimer, surprised and horror-stricken at the strange Bcene. « He would have ruined my daughter, my only child ; only last night his hired minions tried to steal her from me. I love her as my life, aye, and better, and he iincUl-ack, with devilish Lorment you, and that is igercd, and thirsted iov ;he Duke in a sinking, but her wretched, de- ,venge liis wrongs." sidel" cried Valdimer, ' he is dying, and we can not see that you torment cannot look at you." and nearer, bending to- ns fast glazing eyes, with e no longer the fiendish "y- dimer, laying the heavy turf. hank God that my hand le is safe from his deceiv- sfied." ,te him so bitterly ? " cried ror-stricken at the strange J daughter, my only child ; ions tried to steal her from J, aye, and better, and he THE DUEL. 289 would have robbed n.e of her," cried the hunchback dropping his handkerchief over the ghastly face and staring eyes. "Wretched man, you know not what you have done," said NordiskofE, starting as though he had re- ceived a blow, and turning as pale as the dead before ^" « lie would have dishonored her, deserted her, and broken her heart; she is all I have in the world, my one ewe lamb, my pure white flower; she was good and innocent, and truthful, and she loved the mis- shapen being before you with a rare love, untd he came into her life and won her from me with his wiles Do you blame me, then, that I have sent him where he can do no more harm?" ^ ,. , «: « Oh, unfortunate creature," cried Nordiskoff, cove - ire his face to hide his dreadful agitation, « you will Buffer a fearful remorse some time in the future for this deed." '- , , . « He was mv mortal enemy, and I have killed him Thank God that my soul and not yom-s is stained with his murder; but go, save yourself, and we will keep each other's secret." "Wretched man, I will not betray you, although you are a murderer, for the Duke did not fall in a fair fiffht, you took him unawares." "And I saved your life; an instan^- more and hiB 13 90j^ THE DUEL. rapier would have drunk your heart's blood ; we are even, you can afford to keep my secret." " And I will do it ; may God forgive you for your fearful crime," said Valdimer, as he walked hurriedly away without looking again at the prostrate form of the Duke, who but a moment before had stood face to face with him, strong, upright, and proud, with steady eye and unflinching hand, ready to deal out death to his opponent. The Duke had fallen for his misdeeds, and he, unharmed, was leaving the spot without the cnrse of blood upon his hands. Another, througli a fearful mistake, had dealt the death-blow, saved his life, and set him free. Truly, his star of fortune was in the ascendancy. When Count Valdimer had disappeared among the trees the hunchback picked up his dagger and con- cealed it next his heart, then stooping over the pros- trate form before him, he said in a hollow, broken voice, " It is done ; my wrongs are avenged, my Lisa is saved ; but henceforth I bear the mark of Cain upon my brow, and the blight of crime in my heart. O Kevenge 1 thou art a demon that consumes us with remorse even iu tlie moment of our triumph." Then, with a wild, searching glance around to see that no one was near, he plunged into the thicket and disappeared, and the Duke of Castellara was left alone, with the blue sky, the trees, and the birds for his companions. THE DUEL. 291 lieart'd blood ; we are secret." forgive you for your 5 he walked hurriedly the prostrate form of fore had stood face to iid proud, with steady to deal out death to ill en for his luisdeeds, the spot without the Another, througli a death-blow, saved his J star of fortune was in isappeared among the his dagger and con- tooping over the pros- a hollow, broken voice, iged, ray Lisa is saved ; of Cain upon my brow, irt. O Revenge 1 thou with remorse even iu Then, with a wild, that no one was near, d disappeared, and the )ne, with the blue sky, ompanious. A few houi-8 later it was rumored all over Florence that the Duke of Castellara was dead. The rich, the powerful, the haughty Duke was found in an obscure part of the Cascine, pierced to the heart, cold and dead, a rapier clenched in his hand, and another at his feet ; but the strangest part of all was that the weapon that had given him his death-blow was a dagger mstead of a rapier, as the wound plainly showed. There was a mystery. That a secret duel had taken place was plain enough, but who had been the opponent, and how the blow had been dealt, was enveloped in complete obscurity. ^ ..^ Of course it was the common topic of conversation And while his body lay in state, and the crowd passed in and out to look at one who had once been the favor- ite of Ferdinand, there was a murmur of disapproba- tion that the authorities had taken no steps to discover the murderer; but after he was buried, the matter was soon forgotten, or, if it was spoken of, there was little interest expressed, for the Duke, although a great and rich noble, had not been a good man, and there must have been many a father and husband who had private wrongs to avenge and old accounts to settle. A handsome young Russian noble, who rode with Enrico in the funeral procession, and a bowed haggard man who carried a blood-stained dagger next his heart could have explained the whole mystery, had they 292 HAPPY AT LAST. chosen to speak. But they preferred to keep silent — and until this day the Florentines do not know by whom the invincible Duke of Castellara was killed. CHAPTER XIX. HAPPY AT LAST. OR six months the Duchess of Castellara had been a widow, and during that time she had remained in the strictest retirement at one of her villas near Florence. . - The only visitor she had received, the only one that she had allowed to intrude upon her seclusion, had been her cousin, Enrico ; through him alone she had learned of what was going on in the gay world. She listened with interest to the mysterious stories con- nected with her husband's death, and heard of the public curiosity and speculation concerning it, but said nothing herself ; for it was well understood be- tween her cousin and her, that the Duke had gone out to tight with Nordiskoff and had met his death at the hand of Hugo the hunchback. Of course the Duchess did not go into retirement to mourn, for her only feeling was one of relief that at IT. EAPPT AT LAST. im red to keep silent — es do not know by ^Uara was killed. 288 of Castellara had ig that time she had retirement at one of ed, the only one that 1 her seclusion, had him alone she had the gay world. She 'sterions stories con- i, and heard of the I concerning it, but well understood be- e Duke had gone out met his death at the go into retirement to one of relief that at last she was free from the galling fetters that had bound her so long. Mistress of herself and her hand- some fortune, it now seemed to her that she might begin life again and blot out the suffering and misery of the past in a brighter and happier future. There appeared to be now no obstacle to her union with Nordiskoff, after a suitable time had expired. Not that she had any respect for her husband's memory, or any scruples on her own account ; but slie would not shock the fashionable world, where she had so long reigned a queen, by ignoring any of its rules of propriety. So when she remained shut up m the deepest seclusion for six months without ever seeing Valdimer, she thought she had fully complied with the most rigorous laws of etiquette and well earned her restoration to society again. But although she did not see Nordiskoff during that time she heard daily f.-om him, and his letters breathed the deepest and most tender affection; for now that she was absent from him, with the strange inconsistency of the human heart, he really desired her presence, and sometimes regretted ever having met the lovely Lisa, who still exercised a wonderful power over him. Of course his love for the obscure and simple girl was not in the least like the feeling he cherished for the proud and noble Duchess of Castel- lara and he even went so far as to think that he might 294 HAPPY AT LAST. marry the Duclioss, esteem and worship her as his wife, and yet love the adorable child upon whom he had fixed his heart. He could not marry Lisa ; that was not to be ex- pected of a rich young noble, a son of one of the oldest and proudest families of Eussia. How could lie, even if he desired to do so, ally himself with a poor, low-born girl, the daughter of an unfortunate man, who knew nothing of his parentage % No, he could not marry the girl, and he could not help loving her ; but his affection for her would not in the least prevent him from uniting himself to the Duchess, who had long loved him, and who now being free, he was in honor bound to fulfil herexpectations. With this false and base reasoning, he prepared him- self to meet the Duchess, on her return to the world, as her accepted husband, while, at the same time, he pro- fessed the deepest love for the child who trusted and adored him. The sudden and tragic death of the Duke of Cas- tellara, and her immediate departure from Florence, prevented the Duchess from taking Lisa under her protection, as she had promised Enrico she would lO, and as she was no longer tormented by further m -cfs of Valdimer's interest in the girl, she began .o think that, after all, it was but a young man's silly fancy for a pretty face, which would lose its charm as soon as ST. worship her as his ihild upou whom he t was not to be ex- & sou of one of the Eussia. How could , ally himself with a 2r of an unfortunate parentage? No, he could not help loving onld not in the least E to the Duchess, who )w being free, he was utatioiis. ing, he prepared hiin- return to the world, as lie same time, he pro- hild who trusted and of the Duke of Cas- irture from Florence, king Lisa under her Enrico she would iO, ited by further r. -cfs rl, she began m think ; man's silly fancy for its charm as soon as HAPPY AT LAST. 298 the novelty wore off. And besides, it was humiliating to herself to acknowledge a feeling of jealousy for one 60 far beneath her, or to admit, even to her own heart, that the Duchess of Castellara could have a rival. And then, what greater proof could she have of Val- dimer's love and devotion than his daily remembrance of her in her retirement, in the form of the most afEec- tionate letters that ever were penned by a faithful lover ? And so their sentimental horizon, that at one time had seemed so cloudy, had cleared itself, and the Duchess returned to her palace in Florence and the society of her intended husband, with restored confi- dence, and renewed faith in her future. At times she felt some slight pangs of conscience in admitting to herself, that her husband had perhaps come to his death through a mistake, through the frantic rage of a man whom, possibly, he had never injured. At fii-st Bhe had believed Valdimer to be the guilty party, in her jealousy and anger she had mentally accused him of the attempted abduction of the girl ; but now that she thought calmly of it in her renewed confidence, it seemed impossible that he could have been base enough to commit such a crime. But Castellara, her dead husband, had been fully capable of any wickedness, and doubtless the hunchback had the best of reasons for his suspicions. In any case, Hugo had saved Nor- ^M 11, 296 HAPPY AT LAST. ■■ I ,.■■'1 1 - ! ' 1 , h' i I! ! diskdff's life, who was not to hlaino, becauso Ciistcllara had insisted npon the duel ; one or the other hud to die, and Valdinier would have been the vietiui or the murderer of her husband, therefore the hunehl)ack's fatal blow had been dealt at the right moment, for he had avenged his own wrongs, and restored her freedom as well as saved her lover. ' ■ ; >. ^ On the day of the Duchess's return to Florence, she sat in the same beautiful room that we have already described, waiting impatiently the ari-ival of Valdinier. At last he came, and she, with a cry of delight, met his outstretched arms, and was clasped to his heart for the fii-st time after all her weary years of waiting. " Your torment is over, your martyrdom is ended," she said, clinging to his neck, and weeping from happiness. " Yes, and thank God that it is ended through no deed of mine, Elena ; if my hand had given you your freedom, I could not now hold yon in my arms and look in your dear face with the same happy heart." " Pray do not speak of this in the firet moment of our happiness. Let ub forget the sad and bitter past, and live only in this sweet present." " And in a sweeter and better future, my Elena," he said, tenderly, as he led her to a sofa and seated him- self beside her. " This is a proud and blissful moment for me, when I can hold your dear hand, and know that it is mine forever." \ ! LAST. lamo, bi!canf?o Ciistcllara )no or the other hud to been the victim or the refore the hunchback's lie right moment, for he nd restored her freedom I retnrn to Florence, she n that we have already the arrival of Valdimer. a cry of delight, met his sped to his heart for the ears of waiting, nartyrdom is ended," she veeping from happiness. it is ended through no iiid had given you your d you in my arms and ! same happy heart." in the firet moment of the sad and bitter past, lent." sr future, my Elena," he a sofa and seated him- >ud and blissful moment r dear hand, and know \ HAPPY AT LAST. "And you are contented, Valdimer; you would have nothing changed ? » she asked, turning her clear, happy eyes full upon him. " I am perfectly happy ; everything now is as I would have it. I have nothing more to desire in this world," he replied, avoiding her steady look, while a faint tinge of red stole over his face, a scarcely per- ceptible flush of shame, for at that moment he seemed to see a pair of innocent, childish blue eyes looking into the very depths of his guilty soul, and, in spite of himself, he recoiled from the searching gaze as though a tender wound had been touched by a rough hand. The Duchess noticed the slight change instantly, and, in spite of her happiness, a chill seemed to pass over her, just the faintest tremor, just a breath of sus- picion, which she could not quite banish, though she said sweetly and gently: "I have been so wicked, Valdimer, that I scarcely deserve this happiness. I have doubted everything, even your love at times. Yes, I have been unjust enough to think that you loved another." « Now you are jesting, my Elena ; who could I lovo beside yon ? " « Ah ! I know not ; some one younger and fairer than I am." "There is no one living fairer, more beautiful, than you." 18* ?4,1 99S HAPPr AT LAST. « Bnt thorc are many younger, and youth haa its own chann." " You are young, you are all that is perfect. 1 pray you to Bay no more of your ago. Every year that haa brought your beauty to such perfection has been a gift from Heaven." > ,. i^ " Ah ! that is sweet and kind, Valdiraor ; but still I wish I were younger for yo\ir sake." '< 1 like not a flower in the bud, neither do I prefer half-ripe fruit. If I worship you, and adore you as you are, why wish to take away from the years that have made yon perfect in my eyes 1 " "And you will never grow weary of my love?" « Never, Elena 1 Can one grow weary of Heaven 1 " « Valdimer, I trust you now, though I will confess that not long since I thought your love wavered ; I feared another had won your heart from me." « Elena, how could you wrong me so ? " "Have I wronged you, Valdimer? Now, look down deep into your heart of hearts, and tell me truly if you find any other image there than mine." « How absurd, sweet love. Why, for four years your face has been impressed upon every fold of my heart ; every fibre of my being has thrilled and responded but to your name." "Pardon me, dearest, if I seem to question yon closely, bnt now I wish my heart to be at rest, for •w ST. and youtli has its own at is perfect. 1 pray Every year that has )erfoction has been a Valdiraor ; but still I J, neither do I prefer on, and adore you as f from tlio years that es?" ary of my love ? " iw weary of Heaven 1 though I will confess your love wavered ; I art from me." ; me so ? " mer? Now, look down md tell me truly if you mine." Thy, for four years your very fold of my heart ; lied and responded but seem to question yon leart to be at rest, for IIAPPr AT LAST S90 when I am your wife, I would not have a cloud come between us, not the faintest breath of a suspicion. You are sure, quite sure, that since you have professed to love mo that you have never breathed the same vows to another?" Valdimer looked away while he pressed her white hand f(MKlly to his lips, and said, with some gravity : «My Elena, you are a woman of the world, yoa nnderstand human nature, you know the folly a man may be guilty of at times, how he may mistake his hnagination for his feelings, his fancies for his affec- tions. I will be truthful with you, though it is a sort of sacrilege to oblige me to make odious comparisons between my love for you and my professions for others. Is it not enough for you to know that I adore and worship you, that you are far above any other m my estimation, that you are the chosen mistress of my destinv, ray Elena, my wife." « That is enough, Valdimer. I understand you, and I trust you. My love for you is a deep-rooted feeling, not a light or idle fancy. God knows how I have suffered, how I have struggled to crush and kill it in times past, when it seemed unworthy of me to cherish such a passion. It has been my one rock to cling to amid the mad waves of despair and anguish, hate and revenge, that have so often threatened to engulf me It has saved me from fearful extremes, it has kept one It l'' I 'V ! ti; II 800 JIAPPr AT LAST. tondor Rpnt in my lioart, ono spark of woinnnly ceiitlo- iiess alivo. It liiw boon my only h^po, my only salvti- tioa for so lon^?, tliat wore I to hwo it, I should bo utterly ruined and Bhipwrecked." " You will never lose my love. Why dwell on such a theujor' returned the Count, deeply moved, "espe- cially at the moment when our happiness is about to be.ponsiunmated. Elena, I decided when I came hero not to leave you until you named the day that is lo make you my wife." " Ah ! Valdimer, let U9 not hasten the time, we are Imppy enough as we are." " Why should wo wait, Elena ? You have done all that propriety demanda of you, thou why not become mine at once ? " The DuchesB did not reply immediately, but seemed to be thinking deeply, and a shade of sadness passed over her face that had been so unclouded but a mo- ment before, then she looked up at Valdimer, who sat with his eyes bent upon her, waiting for her answer, and said, with some hesitation : " I cannot decide now, Valdimer. I prefer to wait a little. I have an impres- sion, a sudden conviction, that I ought to wait." " Well, then, dearest, I will not urge you against your impressions, though you make me unhappy by refusing the fondest wish of my heart ; liowever, I can wait a little longer, as 1 have waited so long, but I KHMMtn g.SJ^tf^aaa&fcSefe**--'^ isr. rk of womftnly centlo- f liDpo, iiiy only salva- to 1(M0 it, 1 ie even in Home. » Yes, yes. Father Ilario, it is true. I have no cause to complain. My good fortune is on every tongue. 1 amnoh,nger the poor despised creature that I wa.^ The people respect me, and the great and noble seek ,ny humble homo to offer me their patronage Wealth flows in upon me; but withal, J am wretched, more wretched than any living thing." «' Then, as I ^oM you long ago, it must bo your own morbid, unhappy disposition that makes you so^ Pray to God to change your heart and give you a different nature." ,. . . i t «Yon bid me pray. Ohl Father, it is useless. I cannot. God's ear is closed against mo; the^ J a black wall of guilt between the compassionate Saviou. and me, that keeps me away from Him." « Then go to your confessor and unburden your Boul to him, and he will show you the way to obtain ^^"Thavo no confessor. I never have confessed to any one." PAIR )tne Olio has been fortn- with a groan, laster Hugo, tlmt yoii ,nner as you did in other , you too have prospered profession? Wliy, the led nie even in Iloine." 18 trne. I have no cause ne is on every tongne. I 3cd creature that I wa#. ho great and noble seek their patronage. Wealth al, I am wretched, more ago, it must bo your own that makes you so. Pray t and give you a different, I Father, it is useless. I d against me ; there is a the compassionate Saviour r from Him." Bssor and unburden your ow you the way to obtain I never have confessed to HUOOfS DESPAIR 313 "Is it possible, my son, that you so neglect your duty and the means of grace offered you ? No wonder tliiit you aro oppressed with your load of sin. Come to mc and unburden your heart ; lay your breast bare before me, expose your most secret fault, and you will find peace and happiness." " Oh 1 Father, is it possible, can I be forgiven ? " cried Hugo, seizing this hope and clinging to it as cajj;erly as a drowning man would to a plank thrown him by a friendly hand. " Can the sins and secrets of years bo blotted out and made clear in God's eyes? Can crimes bo obliterated and pardoned by the most High? Can the suffering, burdened soul Jind peace and happiness at last ? " " Yes, my son, through God's mercy ; but finst you must come to his confessional with a sincere and peni- tent heart." " I am ready. Oh ! Father, help me if you can. Wijon shall I come to you ? " " To-morrow, if you will. I shall be at San Marco during mass, every day for the future, as far as I can tell, for I am not to return to Rome again. And do not fail in yonr good resolution. May God help yon, my son, to come to Him through the mediation of our Blessed Saviour. Now go your way and leave me to myself, for having just returned after my long ab- sence, I would first offer up my thanks to the Holy 14 814 nUOaS DKHPATR Virgin nt her own uUar in San Mininto, whoro h1i« promised nic her speciftl protection." With his heart somewhat lif^'litonotl of its heavy burden, lingo loft Fatlior lliirio and hurried throii-,'h the city to his liomo, where ho found Lisa and Signorii Pia awaiting him in tlio greatest anxiety. Wlien lio crossed the threshold it seemed m thr)ugh ho had hccii gone for months, and when the girl tiirew her arins aromid his nock and kissed him fondly in l>er joy iit his return, he shuddered and put her away, fearinj; lest his touch might contaminate and stain her pure soul. "Are you ill, papa ? " she said anxiously ; " yon look 80 pale and distressed." " No, my child, I am not ill ; I am only weary, aiiti I will seek quiet and rest in my own room." "But you will take some supper, surely, Signore?" eaid Signora Pia, " for after this long day's absence you must he hungry as well as tired." "I am not hungry. I have eaten," returned tlio hunchback, avoiding Lisa's questioning, anxious lool< as he hastened to his room. The next day, as Father Ilario had feared he might do, he wavered in his good intention, and was in a more miserable condition than before. There was only one thing that kept him back from confessing all to the good priest, and that was the fear of having to resign ISPAfR 8an Miniato, where who action." ; liglitoiiotl of its honvv irio uiid Imrrieil throii^'h a foiiml Lisrt and Sii^nuru ato8t ftuxioty. Wlieu he 3(1 m th'Migli ho had been the gh'l tlu-ow her arms him fondly in her joy nt id pnt her away, feariiii,' inate and stain her pure aid anxiously ; " yon look ill ; I am only weary, ami my own room." supper, surely, Signore?" ir this long day's absence as tired." ave eaten," returned the questioning, anxious look lario had foarod he might itention, and was in a more fore. There was only one Tom confessing all to the e fear of having to resign mroaS DESPAIR. SI 5 the ff'.rl he worRhii>ped. When ho looked upon her lovely fnco, when he felt the soft, tender touch of her hand, when he heard her sweet voice say, « papa," his rcHoIve vanished, and the burden prcHsing so heavily ui)nn his soul was light in comparison with what it would be if ho were compelled to give her up. He did not fear confopsing to Father Ilario that ho li!itions ; and had also met her many times in her father's studio, when the wretched man, driven by his uneasy conscience, was compelled to rush out and Avander about the city or country to find distraction from his own thoughts. These were happy days to Lis^ — the color returned once more to her cheeks, the light to her eyes, and the ready smiles to her lips ; and her father, seeing her contentment, thought it was because of her freedom from Castellara's persecution, and the renewed confi- dence and sympathy between them. And as the weeks passed on and his burden of crime became endurable, because of his familiarity with it, he began to regret his partial confession to Father Ilario, and even feared that he might possibly meet him in some of his wan- derings about the city. Then the old idea of leaving Florence and hiding himself somewhere took posses- sion of hira, and ho worked with a feverish haste on ESPAIR. ther fuar for Lisa's safety, illowed the poor girl some •o out often with Sigiiora hes, but to the gardens, ered her and renewed his interrupted by her close md means of conveying hanging a few words with Signora Pia was intently lid had also met her many when the wretched man, uience, was compelled to the city or country to find ughts. ) Lis^ — the color returned light to her eyes, and the nd her father, seeing her because of her freedom n, and the renewed confi- them. And as the weeks ■ crime became endurable, ith it, he began to regret ler Ilario, and even feared him in some of his wan- 5n the old idea of leaving f somewhere took posses- with a feverish haste on •i HUGO'S DESPAIR. 317 tlie statue of Hebe, which was fast approaching com- pletion ; for he resolved that as soon as it was finished, and ho was paid for it, to take Lisa with him and go as far away as possible from all who had ever known him— from the place where ho had sinned and suffered —to some quiet r"t:oal, where, with his idolized child, he miglit forget the past in a new and happier life. The statue of Nemesis was still unfinislied, for the Duchess of Castellara had been absent from the city for six months, and Hugo did not know when she woidd return ; but he had resolved not to remain one day in Florence after Count NordiskofE had accepted and paid him the price agreed upon for the Hebe, even though the order from the Duchess should never be completed. One morning, after several days of almost incessant toil, Hugo put the finishing touches to the exquisite statue, that stood a marvel of loveliness behind the crimson curtain in one corner of his studio. He had cut the stone himself, for he would not allow any other hand than his own to copy his conception from clay to marble, believing that each stroke should be made by the hand of the master that conceived the whole. He was very weary and oppressed by anxiety, in spite of his joy, at the completion of his work, and when he released Lisa from her last sitting, he re- marked that he should go into the country for a long S18 HUGO'S DESPAIR. walk, which would refresh and invigorate hira. But, instead of going out as he thought to do at once, lio eat down before the statue, and began to study it criti- cally, and it seemed to hiin, as he looked at it, that it took life and moved, and breathed. It was Lisa, her lovely form, hor exquisite face changed* into tlic radiant goddess of youth. Her uplifted eyes, her smiling mouth, her white arms holding aloft the cup filled with divine nectar; the lithe, graceful limbs with their clinging, delicate drapery, the feet that seemed to spurn the clouds beneath them, could not all be cold, inflexible marble, the work of his hand, the conception of his throbbing, aching brain, but rather an emanation from an innnortal power con- cealed within his liideous form. While he looked at it, it seemed to move and float toward Heaven, the white arms waved him a farewell, the eyes were turned toward him in a mute adieu, the lips murmured in- audible words of parting ; the face grew fixed and stony, the limbs immobile, and, instead of Hebe, he saw before him the rigid, dead form of his child, his Lisa. A heavy stupor seemed to settle upon him ; his senses were benumbed and dull, his eyes closed, his weary head fell forward on his breast, and he slept from exhaustion, quietly and deeply, sitting before the statue that he had just completed. It was some time before he awoke, and then he was ''W. aSPAIB. ad invigorate hira. But, bought to do at once, ho id began to study it criti- is lie looked at it, that it athed. It was Lisa, her face changed* into tlic Her uplifted eyes, her ns holding aloft the cup he lithe, graceful limbs 3 drapery, the feet that beneath them, could not e, the work of his hand, bbing, aching brain, but an innnortal power cou- n. While he looked at it, oward Heaven, the white 11, the eyes were turned Bu, the lips murmured in- the face grew fixed and and, instead of Hebe, he Bad form of his child, his ed to settle upon him ; his d dull, his eyes closed, d on his breast, and he lietly and deeply, sitting i just completed. be awoke, and then he was MU0Q8 DESPAIR. conscious that he was no longer alone, for two persons on the other side of the heavy curtain were engaged in a low, earnest conversation. Holding his breath, and pressing his hand tightly to his throbbing heart, he listened, and recognized his daughter's voice, and the words she uttered seemed like liquid fire poured upon his brain. " Ah, Valdimer," she said, « you know I love you better than any one on earth, better than my father, yes, a thousand times better, for I can leave him for you. Think what my love must be, when I can forget all his patient affection, all his life-long devotion and tendernefls,to go with you, who are little better than a stronger to me, whom I have not tried and tested as I liave°him ; then, I entreat you, not to say that I love him better than you, for am I not now about to prove which is dearest to me ? " " Yes, my sweet darling, you are, and this is the only way you can conviu. i me of your love," returned Val- dimer Nordiskoff in soft, insinuating tones that sounded like the howling of fiends to the tortured ears of the wretched man, who writhed with the agony ho was trying to control. " And you must be brave, my trea- sure, for all depends upon your courage. Now listen carefully to the directions I am about to give you. To-morrow night, as soon as your father retires, you must unfasten the locks softly, and slip down the stairs, 820 HUGO'S DESPAIR. . swiftly and silently, to tho outer door, which you will find open. At the corner of the street you will see a carriage, with a driver apparently fast asleep, which you will enter without a word, then you will be swiftly driven away to the j)07'ta di San Gallo. There I will join you, and before morning wo will be far from Florence, and beyond pursuit." " And where shall wo find the priest to marry us % " asked Lisa in sweet, eager tones. " In the first town we stop. at. I have arranged it all, 80 do not worry your pretty head about that." " And my father, my poor fathei', how unhappy he will be ! Oh I Valdimer, would it not be better to tell him all ? I am sure if he knew my happiness depended upon our union he would not refuse his sanction." " Hush ! my child, you do not know what you are Baying ; I know your father better than you do, his love for you is a selfish affection ; he will not give you to any one willingly, and the first intimation that you care for me, would be followed by your close impris- onment, and I should never see you again ; so unless you wish to be separated from me forever, conceal our love from him \vith the greatest care." " All ! you know I cannot be separated from you, yet I hesitate to make my father suffer, as I know be will when I am gone, and he has nothing left to love." TAIB. ' :er door, v.hich you will he street you will see a Biitly fast asleep, which Drd, then you will be ta di San Gallo. There loruiiig we will be far rsuit." lie priest to marry us ? " !S. . I have arranged it all, ad about that." Lather, how unhappy ho d it not be better to tell my happiness depended of use his sanction." lot know what you are ter than you do, his love lie will not give you to ret intimation that you i by your close irapris- e yon again ; so unless me forever, conceal our t care." ie separated from you, ither suffer, as I know he has nothing left to HUGO'S DESPAIR. 321 " He will have what he loves even better than you, he will have ten thousand scudV^ " Oh 1 Valdimer, do not say that he is mercenary, that any amount of money will console him for my loss, for I know that he loves me better than wealth, better than his art, better than anything on earth." " It may be, dearest, but I doubt it. However, it does not matter about his love, you have chosen mo, have you not? You love me better than your father, is it not so ? and you will leave him to go with me ? " « Ah ! yes, dear Valdimer, I love you beyond any- one, and I will go with you, because I cannot live without you." " That is enough, my darling. I am too happy, and may God forget me, if I ever cause you sorrow." " There can be no sorrow with you. I shall always be happy in your love. Still, I must return soon to my poor father, for he will be so desolate \vithout me." " In spite of your declaration that you love me best, you still desire to return to him ? " « But you promised me that our parting should be but for a little while ; that I should return to him soon, or that ho should come to me ; and you are bo good that you will keep your promise." " Then you cannot give him up entirely ? " « Ah 1 Valdimer, why should 1 1 " " Do you think that when you belong to me, you 14* 822 HUGO'S DESPAIR. ■will wish to retnni to him and be his model ? Yon must understand, Lisa, that such a thing is impossible." " But I can see him, I can love him. Oh I Valdi- mer, ho is my father." "I Bometiiues doubt that. Have you over thought of such a possibility as his not being your father? " « Never, Valdiraer. As far back as I can remem- ber, I have had no one but him." " It seems impossible that you can have any of liis dark blood in your veins, and why does he never speak of your mother ? " " She died so long ago. But do not speak of that, do not teach me to doubt my own father, whom I have always loved." « But he has a fearful, cruel nature. Why should you love him 'i " " I beg that you will not speak so of him ; he has been good to me, and I love him and reverence his genius." « Ah 1 his genius has had a valuable aid, my Lisa, in your beauty, which he has used long enough, and has turned into gold, all that he ever shall ; henceforth it will belong to me, and I shall guard it well from his covetous eyes. I think when he loses you he will i-e- gret the model more than the child." «I cannot think so, Valdiraer; you are unjust to him because you do not know how tender and noble "Am i be his model ? You i a thing is impossible." love him. Oh I Valdi- lave you over thought )eing your father ? " back as I can remem- ou can have any of liis rhy does he never speak t do not speak of that, «rn father, vrhora I have 3l nature. Why should peak so of him ; he has him and reverence his valuable aid, my Lisa, in i long enough, and has )ver shall ; henceforth it [ guard it well from his he loses you he will i"e- child." mer; you are unjust to f^ how tender and noble HUGOS DBSPAIR his heart is, in spite of his unprepossessing appearance and sullen niannere. And 1 am sure he is my father, my heart has never doubted it ; therefore, I^nust love him and see him, and you will not deprive me of that happiness if you love me." " We will think of that hereafter, dearest. I shall find a pretty little nest for my darling, not far from Florence, where she can be as happy as a bird all day long, and then she will forget all the past and live only for me." " I have given my life to you, Valdimer, and hence- forth it is only yours." " Sweet love, you make me happy beyond expression when you speak so confidently of your trust in me. Only one day more, and my treasure shall be mine, forever. I shall not see yon again until I hold you in my arms, never again to lose you. To-morrow, at four o'clock, I have an appointment here with your father, to see the statue of Hebe completed. I shall then pay him the price agreed upon, and, instead of ordering him to send the work to its final destination, I shall request him to keep it until he has further directions from me, for it would be cruel to rob him at once of his model, his child, and the most perfect production of his genius." « Ah I Valdimer, as deariy as I love you, my heart aches at the thought of leaving him." 824 HUGO GONFESaES. " Then you regret your promise, and you will fail to meet me to-morrow night 1 " « No, I jvill not fail you. Nothing but death shall keep mo from you." Then the wretched Hugo heard a few low-spoken words of tender farewell, some passionate kisses, and then the door closing upon Count Nordiskoff, and after that the slow, soft step of Lisa as she went to her own room, and he remembered no more. The world seemed to glide away from beneath his feet, and slipping from the chair, where he had listened, as silent as the statue before him, he fell in a heap upon the floor and lay like one dead, without sound or motion. CHAPTER XXI. HUGO 0ONFE88K8. |OUNT VALDIMER NORDISKOFF, after his interview with Lisa, which we have re- corded in the previous chapter, went directly to the Duchess of Castellara in order to make some excuse for his intended absence from Florence for a few days. It was a little over two weeks since the Duchess had ^ sass. 36, and you will fail to othing but death shall sard a few low-spoken passionate kisses, and it Nordiskoff, and after 18 she went to her own TO. The world seemed [lis feet, and slipping stened, as silent as the leap upon the floor and I or motion. HUGO CONFESSES. 895 XXI. 3BKS. NOEDISKOFF, after Isa, which we have re- B chapter, went directly in order to make some B from Florence for a B since the Duoh^s had returned from her country residence, and during that time nothing had occurred to disturb her happiness with Valdimer. They had appeared in public to- getlier, and it was well understood in the fashionable world that the beautiful Duchess was at last to marry the man of her choice. There was a romance about this long attachment that pleased the sentimental character of the Italians, and gave a poetical coloring to what otherwise might liave been quite commonplace. So, wherever they went, they were the courted and flattered idols of Bociety. " The Duchess seems to have renewed her youth," said one of her admirers, watching her as she drove through the Cascine with Valdimer by her side, her face radiant with happiness, and her lips wreathed with smiles. "Yes, happiness makes one young," returned an- other of a group of fashionable loungers about the music stand. " It was a lucky thing for her that Cas- tellai-a was taken off the way he was, for she must have been tired of waiting." " There is a mystery about his death fully as great as that singular affair of Challonner. Do you remem- ber him ; the young Englishman who was killed by the brigands ? " « The brigands 1 Ah I that is good," laughed the 64- I 826 HUGO CONFESSES. ■ group. " Why, who over doubted that Castellara had biin put out of tho way ? " " Well, who can tell but what the Duke was paid in his own coin when that dagger-blow was struck in tho Casciue? Heaven knows Nordiskoff waited long enough for him to die a natural death." " Oh I nonsense. NordiskofE had nothing to do with his death, it was some one who had a stronger motive than a lover's impatience." "Well, 1 suppose it does not matter much, as long as he is out of the way, how he was taken off. For my part I am glad that she is free at last and can marry the man she loves, for slxe suffered enough with Cas- tellara, who was a cruel, cold, selfish brute." And so society discussed her, while she went about with a jiappy face, and a comparatively happy heart, in spite of the twinges of conscience now and then, which she was becoming accustomed to. The stream of her life seemed to be running smoothly at last, and 80 she surrendered herself to it, contented to be carried along over these verdant plains and sweet, flowery vales of pleasure, never dreaming of the broad, stormy ocean before her, or the lurid, tempestuous heavens above her. When Valdimer entered the reception-room at the Castellara palace, on the day of which we are writing, he found Enrico waiting to be announced. On seeing S8SE& bted Ihat Caatellara had it the Duko was paid in -blow was struck in tho ordiskoff waited long ,1 death." E had nothing to do with o had a stronger motive ; matter much, as long as was taken off. For my ee at last and can marry ffered enough with Cas- solfish brute." er, while she went about nparatively happy heart, inscience now and then, istomed to. The stream ng smoothly at last, and t, contented to be carried ains and sweet, flowery ling of the broad, stormy id, tempestuous heavens 16 reception-room at the of which we are writing, > anuounced. On seeing nUGO CONFESSES. 827 Nordiekoff ho rose and came toward him with an air of cold restraint, quite different from his usual frank, pleasant manner, saying, "I am glad to meet you, for I have been trying to see you all day." « Indeed, Enrico ; then how is it I have missed you ? " returned Valdimer offering his hand cordially, which his companion appeared not to see, for he did not advance to take it. «I wish to have a little private conversation with you. Count Nordiskoff;" the Count used by Enrico was ominous, and Valdimer felt a tremor of guilt pass over him. " Very well, my friend, 1 am at your service, if the Ducliess is not awaiting me." « She will excuse yon when she leanis that 1 am speaking to you on her behalf," said Eurico opening the door of the library and making a sign for Nordis- koff to enter. " Let us speak here, where we shall not be overheard." The room was empty. At one end was a hand- somely carved screen before an alcove, and near this the two men took their seats. "Your manner forebodes something unpleasant, Enrico," said Valdimer lightly, "but pray speak quickly, for I am impatient to see your cousin." « Yonr impatience now is quite remarkable, seeing you controlled it so admirably during your long visit ft: 828 UVaO CONFESSES. in the Via San Gallo," returned Enrico with cutting coldneBB. " Ah ! then yon have boon spying upon my actione, an occupation tmly wortliy of you, Count Altinionti." « That I have not cIduo, as you well know, but acci- dentally I have learned of your affair with the hunch- l)ii(:k'8 daughter, and I wish you to explain your con- duct to mo, as I am the only natural protector of the Duchess of CastoUara, whose promised husband you are." "I am not accustomed to explain my private ailaire to any one ; I therefore beg that you will excuse mo and allow me to say g(X)d morning," said Nordiskoff, angrily rising and turning toward the door. "I cannot allow you to leave until you hear what I have to say," returned Enrico resolutely. " When my cousin, the Duchess, told me of her engagement to you, she also spoke of some suspicion she had concerning your interest in this beautiful and innocent girl. I will avow that previously I, too, had some reason to think that you entertained a passion for her unworthy of you ; but circumstances changed my opinion, and I thought I had wronged you, so when the Duchess asked me solemnly and earnestly if I believed you were free from your infatuation for Hugo's daughter, I assured her that you were, and so set her mind at ease on a matter that had caused her no little pain and 1!88EE ed Enrico with cutting pying upon my actions, pu, Count Altiniouti." ou well know, but acci- r affair with the hunch- •u to explain your con- latnrnl protector of tho proniised liusband you plain my private affaire liat you will excuse mo irning," said Nordiskoff, ard the door, e until you hear what I •esolutely. "When my her engagement to you, :ion she had concerning I and innocent girl. I oo, had some reason to assion for her unworthy inged my opinion, and I , so when the Duchess estly if I believed you an for Hugo's daughter, and 80 set her mind at >ed her no little pain and nuaO CONFESSES. m niixiety. Now I know that unwittingly I doccivod licr, that you are still in pursuit of tins poor child, that it was through your iuBtigution tho attempt to abduct her was made, and that (JaHtollara perlHlied by tho hand of her father for your fault instead of his own. All this I have learned, and 1 kiunv that you visit iior daily thu-ing hor father's absence, and that yoii jjrofoss a love for her which only belongs to the woman yon are about to wed." During Enrico's speech his companion turned paler and paler, and when at last he paused for an uiiHwer, Valdimer said, hoarsely and angrily : " I have heard enough ; I do not like to give an account of myself to jou like a school-boy to his tutor. Your relation to tho Duchess you believe gives you tho right to exact ex- planations which she alone should demand. 1 will make them to her and not to you. I am not yet lier husband ; until that time 1 am my own master, and shall do as I please in regard to tho girl you speak of." " Then, by Heaven, you shall not." " Who will prevent me ? " " 1 will," cried Enrico, his eyes flashing ominously. " By what right, pray, do you exercise such author- ity 1" "Hove the girl honorably, I have saved her from you once and I will again." « Good Heavens, this ia too much," said NordiskotF, M 830 HUGO CONFESSES. as pale as deatl) and trembling with 8upi)refised fury. " My former friendship for you, Count Altiraonti, my love for yonr cousin, have given me patience and en- abled me to control myself, but I can do so no longer. Tiiere is only one honorable way to settle o.ur dispute. You underetand what that is.*' "Gentlemen, I. trust you will not quarrel on my account," cried a clear, proud voice, and the Duchess or Castellara stepped out from behind the screen, pale and haughty, but calm and self-jwEsessed. " Unfor- tunately I was reading here when you entered, and hearing my name a woman's natural curiosity prompted me to listen. I have heard enough, and I beg that you will not connect me with the low-born girl about whom yon are disputing." " I entreat you to allow me to explain the matter, Duchess," cried Valdimer, springing forward and attempting to take her hand. She waved him away coldly, while her steady, level gaze seemed to read his cowardly, sinful soul. " There is no need of an explanation. I am to blame for trust- ing you. Spare me the humiliation of further remark upon the subject." " I regret, cousin," said Enrico sorrowfully, " that you have overheard this unfortunate conversation ; however, it has saved me the pain of telling you of my discovery." r with 8upi)re8sed fury. I, Count Altimonti, my n me patience and en- 1 1 can do so no longer, ly to settle o.ur dispute. ill not quarrel on my voice, and the Duchess behind the screen, pale elf-i>ossessed. " Unfor- when you entered, and tural curiosity prompted inough, and I beg that the low-born girl about to explain the matter, pringing forward and , while her steady, level lly, sinful soul. " There I am to blame for trust iation of further remark irico sorrowfully, " that fortunate conversation ; pain of telling you of HUGO CONFESSES. m- " It is all the same, Enrico ; I should have learned it some time, and it is better now tlian later. Count Valdimer Noixiiskoff, from this moment you have your freedom, and I trust you will find the happiness in it which you professed to enjoy with mo ; allow me to wish you good morning," and with a haughty bow, she turned and left the room. Valdimer looked after her with bewildered silence, then turning furiously uiK)n Enrico, he cried : " Yon shall suffer for this ; you shall hear from me again." " Whenever you like, 1 am at your service," replied Enrico coldly ; and turning his back upon his former friend, he walked away, leaving him alone, the picture of baffled rage, disappointment, and surprise. The Duchess of Castellara, when once out of the sight of the man she loved, forgot her pride and com- posure ; with a trembling step she reached the privacy of her own room, and, lock.ng the door, she threw her- self into a chair, and covering her face, sobbed : " It is over. I knew it could not last. I am not to be happy. A cui-se follows me and crushes me at every step. Oh, Valdimer 1 what a return for my patient, enduring love. Why should you, of all others, deceive and wound me so ? and for tliat ignorant child — that low-bom beggar. My God! how I forget my pride when I can weep after such an insult," Then rising, she paced the floor with flaming eyes and clenched 332 nVQO CONFESSES. hands. " No ! no ! I will not weep, 1 will be avenged. He shall never have her ; I will find some means to take her from him. She shall die before she shall be his. There must be some means of separating them. Let me think, 1 must not act hastily. Ah ! there is another obstacle; Enrico, ray cousin, loves her; he loveo her, and he is my only friend, and I must not wound him to satisfy my pride and anger. No, I will help him to save her from Valdimer, that will be the sweetest revenge I can have, to assist his rival to win her ; and yet I hate the girl, and would rather do her harm than good." And Lisa, innocent, trusting child, while these dreadful complications were gathering around her, un- conscious of all the trouble she was causing, wa-t think- ing fondly of Valdimer, wishing the hours away until she should see him again, her tender heart fluttering with mingled love, fear, and sorrow, yet none the less resolved to obey her lover's wishes, and to forsake all for him. It was nearly Ave Maria, and Father Ilario, thankful that his day's duties were over, was about stepping ont of one of the confessionals in San Marco, when sud- denly Hugo, the hunchback, appeared before him, wild-eyed, haggard, and trembling. " I have come to confess all," he cried, without wait- ing for the priest to address him first. SES. ep, 1 will be avenged. I find some means to ie before she shall be B of separating them, astily. Ah! there is tousin, loves her; he iend, and I must not nd anger. No, I will imer, that will be the Lissist his rival to win 1 would rather do her r child, while these lering around her, un- ms causing, wa-t think- ; the hours away until ender heart fluttering row, yet none the less lies, and to forsake all Father Ilario, thankful vas about stepping orit San Marco, when sud- appeared before him, Ing. he cried, without wait- 1 first. BUGO CONFESSES. " I expected you six months ago," returned Father Ilario dryly ; " but, thank God, it is never too late for His mercy." "I intended to come then. I should have come when I promised you, but I lacked the courage," gi-oancd the wretched creature, falling on his knees. " Well, ray son, as I said, it is not too late ; open your heart to me now ; keep nothing back, and I will try to gain pardon for you." Then Hugo, covering his face, told, with a choking, hesitating voice, of his theft of the child that night near the Church of San Salvador; and while he • ke Father Ilario listened intently, with a strange ' . ; ion of interest, and a sudden kindling of his " And you have never made any effort to discover the parents of the girl ? " asked the priest, when he had finished speaking. "Never, father! I have rather tried to hide her from all the world, and I have made her and every one believe that she is my daughter." "A terrible deception, and perhaps a terrible wrong to her. Have you no suspicion to whom she belongs 1 " " None, whatever." " "Was there nothing about the clothing that would indicate it ? " 334 HUGO CONFESSES. i # "There was only this, Father llario,?' said Hugo, reluctantly drawing forth the clasp, that he had kept concealed so many years, and, putting it in the priest's hand, looking about him timidly as he did so. ; « A costly trinket, though small ; a coronet and legend. This will be a clue to discover the girl's paren- tage." " Oh ! father, you do not mean to say that I must give her up, that they will take her away from me? " " Certainly, if we can discover to whom she belongs, that is all the reparation you can make." «I will never make it," cried Hugo furiously. « Never, never ! no one shall take her from me. She is mine. I have cared for her, and loved her, and you cannot make me give her up." «My son, she is not yours," replied the priest, sternly. " You stole her, and before God will forgive, you must make restitution." "Then, I never Avill be forgiven," returned the hunchback, with sullen determination, « for no living being shall take her from me." « Of what use your coming to me, then 1 It is an abominable mockery to God as well as the Church. My son, you must expect no blessing while you adhere to such a resolution. If yon had stolen treasures from the King, would you expect his pardon while you retained them in your possession ? " llario,?' said Hugo, sp, that he had kept tting it in the priest's 18 he did so. nail ; a coronet and cover the girl's paren- n to say that I must ler away from me ? " to whom she belongs, make." ied lingo furiously, se her from me. She ad loved her, and you ," replied the priest, ifore God will forgive, •given," returned the nation, " for no living o me, then ? It is an 8 well as the Church. 58ing while you adhere d stolen treasures from his pardon while you 1?" SVOO CONFESSES. 336 "But she belong8 to me ; licr mother was dead whon I took her, therefore she is mine." " My son, the woman you took her from was not her mother, and more than that she was not dead." " Madre di Dio ! How know you that ? " cried lingo, lo ^ ftway and devote herself entirely to this child, which 'ehe agreed to do ; but her intense maternal longing got the better of her prudence, and she had walked miles into the country, taking the nursling with her, to get one glimpse of her own babe ; and on her way back she had fallen insensible under the cypress, over- come by heat and fatigue." " Do yon remember the month and the year that this occurred?" asked the hunchback, clinging desper- ately to the hope that the priest's dates and his own might not agree. " Oil ! yes, perfectly. It was but the day before I left for Rome, and I had much to do on that night, and tlie poor woman delayed me with her trouble. Let me see, I left for the holy city July 7th, 1823, there- fore this was on the eve of the 6th day." Hugo groaned and clenched his hands wildly, then trying to control himself he asked, " Should yon know the woman if you saw her again ? " « Yes, I thin]| I should, for I brought a lantern from the church to examine every spot, thhiking that the child might be concealed among the trees, for it was already so dark that we could not tell what was ftear us, it was then I took pains to study her face, which was an uncommon one, for I wished to recognize her if I met her again." "Was she of ov\l outline, pale and tliin, with broad Ifc, 8SE8. [y to this child, which enso maternal longing 3, and Bhe had walked e nursling with her, to babe ; and on her way nder the cypress, ovcr- mth and the year that liback, clinging despor- t's dates and his own but the day before I to do on that night, and ffith her trouble. Let y July 7th, 1S23, there- 6th day." his hands wildly, then ked, " Should yon know tt?" brought a lantern from spot, thinking that the tng the trees, for it was ot tell what was ftear us, idy her face, which was id to. recognize her if I ile and tliin, with broad mrOO CONFESSES. 837 high forehead, and a black mole near the onter corner of the left eye ? " asked Hugo, in a trembling voice. "The very same ; then you have seen her ?" " Yes, I have seen her," returned the hunchback, looking as though he would burst into a frenzy of rage at any moment. " If you know where she is now, and can find her, wo might learn all about the girl from her; doubtless she knew who the child's parents were." " I did not come here to ask you to discover my Lisa's parents. I came here to unburden my soul, and seek some comfort from religion," cried the hunch- back, now fairly beside himself with fear and despair. " Wretched man, have I not told you that I can give you no consolation nntil yon do all you can to make reparation for your sin! If you know where this woman is to be found, it is your duty to confess your fault to her, and ask her assistance in restoring the child to her parents, if they are living." " I cannot do it. It is no use to ask me. You will not betray my secret. Father Ilario. Let me keep the child," pleaded the poor wret'sh, joining his hands, and looking imploringly at the pries*. « I am a most miserable creature. See, I am ^ienitent enough, I will confess all. I am a greater sinner than you think. I am a murderer." " Holy Mother 1 " cried the priest, crossin/j himself. 888 EUaO UONFESaSA " Yo8, to save this child from misfortune, I killed the Dnke of Caatellara. What more could I do to ehow my ! /o for her, than to stain my soul with an- other's blood." rf' Unf(jrtunate man, you are indeed a sinner, and only God's mercy can save you from the just punish- ment of your crimes. Begin your penance at once. If you have any clue whereby you can discover the parents of the girl you call yours, follow it to the end, and spare no pains to make all the restitution in your power. Humble youi-self in the dust; fast, and pray, and give of your substance for masses for the repose of the soul of your unhappy victim." " Father, I will do all you wish me to do. I will scourge myself, I will perform any penance you inflict upon me, I will be humble and patient, I will give half I have to the poor, I will sleep on thorns, and walk on sharp points that will puncture my feet at erery step, if God will pardon me, and give me peace, and allow me to keep my Lisa." " Wretched sinner, do yon think you can make a compromise with the most High 1 " said Father Ilario, sternly. " If you do not repent, His vengeance will follow you as sure as you live, and you will be robbed of your idol in some other way." " Yes, you are right, the avenger is on ray track. I must lose her," he cried, with frenzy. " Only to-day, c a \^ ai cl B( m misfortune, I killed t more could I do to stain my soul with au- I indeed a sinner, and from the just punish- pur penance at once. ' you can discover the ns, follow it to the end, the restitution in your le dust; fast, and pray, nasses for the repose of 1." vish me to do. I will rm any penance you ible and patient, I will I will sleep on thorns, rill puncture my feet at me, and give me peace, think you can make a h } " said Father Ilario, mt, His vengeance will and you will be robbed Qger is on ray track. I frenzy. " Only to-day, BUOO CONFESSES. 339 I heard her say to another that nothing but deatli could keep her from him. She loves anotlier better than she loves me, and she will leave me to go with him. Tin's thought has turned my brain. There is a fire hero that tortures and consumes me— perhaps I am mad ; but no, I cannot be, because I am conscious of my suffering. 1 know all. I remember all. My mind is clear and strong. Oh, Father I tell me how shall I be saved from myself ? " *'My son, I have told you," retui-ned the old priest, compassionately. « Only God can help you. You are not mad, but your sin-eick soul is in torment. Your conscience burns and consumes you like a scorching fire. Ask the Holy Mother to shed her tears of divine compassion upon you, that the flames within may be quenched." "I cannot pray I I tell you that I cannot pray I" cried Hugo, starting from his knees and looking wildly around. "Let me go, the pain gnawing at my heart will not allow me to rest. Something urges me on, and I must obey. 1 hear a voice calling me ; it is my child. Ah I I will go to her; she is my hope, my salvation." "He is a blasphemer, or he is mad," said Father Hario, as he watched him rush away across the church and disappear through the door, as though the demon of Tetribution pursued him. 840 THE STATUE OF HEBE. When ho was otif. of sight the priest took the clasp from liis pocket, and examined it carefully. " He has forgotten the trinket in his excitement. A coronet, with a legend. I know to whom it belongs, or I cannot read Latin rightly ; now, if I could but discover the woman with the mole near her left eye, the hunchback might learn that his Lisa belongs to an old and power- ful family, instead of being the friendless waif ho thought her." CHAPTER XXIL THE BTA.TUE OF HEBE. bHAT can be the matter with your father, Sig- norinal" said Signora Pia, the morning after Hugo's confession to Father Hario. "All night long I heard him walking the floor and gwaning from time to time like one in dreadful pain. I could nor bear to listen to it, and so I got up and went to his door softly, to inquire if he were ill, and I could do anything for him ; but he was so angry, and looked so wild and haggard when he answered my knock, that I was fairly afraid of him." "What did he say, Signora 1 Was he ilU" cried Lisa with sudden pallor. * » HEBB. priest took the claap it cRrefully. " He has ccitemont. A coronet, 1 it beloni^, or I cannot jould but discover the left eye, the huncliback rs to an old and power- tho friendless waif he XXII. ) F HEBE. i- with your father, Sig- a Pia, the morning after Father Ilario. "All g the floor and gwaniug dreadful pain. I could BO I got up and went to ) were ill, and I could do 1 so angry, and looked so iBwered my knock, that I ral "Was he illi" cried THE STATUE OF UEDE. "He told me to gu away and not disturb him. I said that I feared he was in pain, and he answered, ' Ves, I am in pain, but no one can euro me.' Thou he closed the door with a heavy bang, and left me standing witliout." " How strange I What could ho have meant ? " re- turned Lisa anxiously, " I will go to him and inquire." " He is not in his room, Signorina ; 1 heard him go out at daybreak." " Poor papa ! What can ail him ? Have you not noticed, Signora, that he has never been quite the same since that dreadful night we were so frightened com- ing from church ? " "It gave him a great shock certainly, as well it might, and no doubt he has worried about it, beside he has worked very closely lately on his statue, and that has affected his nerves ; but now it is done. To-day the Russian noble comes to pay him for it, and look at it for the last time, which will be a relief to your father, though I shall miss seeing his handsome face ; when 1 open the door for him, he always has a pleas- ant smile and a kind word, and he must have a gener- ous heart to pay such a price for a piece of marble." " But papa will be rich, and will not have to work so hard after he is paid this money," returned Lisa, looking away to hide the color that mounted to her cheeks. "Yes, ten thousand aoxtdi is a handsome fortune, rs^sussHtf 842 TSE STATUE OF nEBB. arid he will be aWo to give you a Buitablo dower when you tiiitl a huBbttiuL" " Don't upoftk of that, Signora. I am anxious about papa. I wish lio would return. Where can lie have gone 80 early, and why docs ho remain out when the heut is Bo oppreMivo 1 " « Doubtlosa he will enter soon, for he has eaten nothing, and while I am waiting to servo the meal I will step around to San Marco, and say a prayer for him, that all may go well on this important day I " «And remember me also while you are praying," said Lisa, in a tremulous voice. « Certainly I will," said the good woman, stooping to kiss the girl as she went out. As Signora Pia entered the Church of San Marco, an elderly priest, with a round, pleasant face, and a short, stout figure, was slowly descending the steps, fanning himsel? with his broad-brimnicd hat as ho walked. With a sudden exclamation ho stopped in front of the woman and laid a detaining hand on her arm, while he looked into her face with the closest scrutiny. The pale, thin features of Signora Pia turned paler than usual under the priest's searching gaze, and turn- ing her head aside she said, trembling visibly: " Pray allow me to pass. Father, for I have bat little time for my devotions." HEBE. Buitablo (lower I am ftuxioiis ftbout Where cftn he hiivo ■einain out when the on, for lie has oaten to servo the meal I and Bay a prayer for important day ! " ile you are praying," od woman, stooping to s Ohurch of San Marco, , pleasant face, and a descending the steps, d-briinniod hat as ho mat ion ho stopped in detaining hand on her face with the closest piora Pia turned paler irching gaze, and turn- ibling visibly: er, for I have bat little THE STATUE OF HEBE. 348 "Do not 1)0 iti a hnrry, my daughter, I wish a word with yoii. If I mistake not I have seen yon hoforo." " PoHsibly you have, since I come here daily to pray," returned the woman evasively. " Enter this confessional with mo, where our conver- sation cainiot bo overboard," said Father Ilario, for it was ho, as he turned and retraced his steps close by the woman's side, who looked around anxiously, as thougli she would like to escape. "I did not come to confess. Father, I wi^U to say but a short prayer and then return home, whore my duties await me." " You need not be unwilling to listen to me, I will not detain you long, for I have but a few questions to ask you. Have you ever heard aught of the child that was stolon from you more than sixteen years ago, under the cypress trees near the Church of San Salvador f " "I? What do you mean. Father ? Pray explain, for your question confuses me." " Ah I my good woman, do not affect to misunder- stand me. You know very well what I mean, and you need not fear me. I am your friend now, as I was on that night when I assisted you to search for the babe." " Pardon me. Father, I was not certain that you were the same, and I feared some one who was not my friend had discovered me and would betray ray secret" THE STATUE OF HEBE. ■ " No, your secret is safe with me ; if it is still a secret. Then you have not found the child 1 " " I have not, Father ; for years I was absent from Florence. I dared not remain here after that misfor- tune ; and I preferred that those to whom the child belonged should believe thet we had disappeared to- gether. My own infant d^ed suddenly the very day after my nursling was stolen, ani so I had nothing to keep me here. For eiglit yeara I wandered about in distant cities until poverty and homesickness drove me back. Since I returned I have found a shelter be- neath the roof of a kind-hearted man who pitied my forlorn condition, where I have lived in seclusion un- der an assumed name. He has but one child, and I have been like a mother to her. He trusts and esteems me and I have a comfortable, respectable home ; there- fore, father, I pray that you will not mjure me by re- vealing my past misfortunes." " Should you be glad to hear of the child again, and restore her to her parents if you could 1 " « Yes, indeed ; it would be the happiest day of my life, if I could know that no harm had come to the nursling, and that she was living and well." " Do you know who the parents of the child are 1 " « No, Father, I know nothing of the parents ; but I know who gave the child into my keeping, and to that person I should restore her if she were found." ■)P HEBE. ^ith me ; if it ia still a' und the child ? " ' ^'ears I was absent from II here after that misfor- lose to whom the child we had disappeared to- Ruddenly the very day ani 80 I had nothing to ii-s I wandered about in 1 homesickness drove me ive found a shelter be- rted man who pitied ray ive lived in seclusion un- las but one child, and I r. He trusts and esteems respectable home ; there- vill not injure me l»y re- ar of the child again, and ou could 1 " I the happiest day of my 3 harm had come to the insr and well." rents of the child are ? " ng of the parents ; but I ) my keeping, and to that she were found." THE STATUE OF BEBE. 845 « Was there anything about her by which you could identify her ? " Signora Pia thought deeply for a moment, and then replied : " The only thing peculiar thai I can remem- ber, was a small gold clasp that fastened its little robe at the throat." " Should you know it if you saw it again 1 " " Yes, I am sure I should. It was engraved with a coronet, and had an inscription, which was too small to read with the naked eye." "Is this the trinket «" asked the priest, laying the clasp in Signora Pia's hand. " Holy Mother 1 it is the very one. Tell me, pray, how did you come by it?" cried the woman, excitedly. "Only yesterday I discovered the man who stole the child from you while you were insensible. He thought you were dead, and so considered that he had a sort of right to take the infant and keep her, which he has done, caring for her very tenderly, I should judge, until now. She has grown into a beautiful girl, always believing him to be her father, and it seems that he has never felt any compunctions of conscience until the present time ; and yet, he is resolved not to give her up voluntarily, feeling for her an exclusive and savage affection. He is an unfortunate, half-in- sane creature of wonderful genius, deformed and un- healthy in body and mind " 16* ■0' 848 THE BTATUS OF BEBK. « Madre di Dio I can it be Signer Hugo, the sculp- tor?" cried the woman, trembling with Burprise and apprehension. « Yes, he is the man ; and the girl he calls Lisa is the child he stole from you;" « Can it be possible ? and I never suspected it ; but how should I ? He told me that she was his daughter, and that her mother was dead, and I believed him. She is as delicate and white as the flower she is named for, and he is dark and heavy in feature ; truly, a dif- ferent blood must run in his veins. Why did I never think of it, before ? " « He is devotedly attached to the girl, it seems." « He worships her. I never saw a human being adore another as he does this lovoly child." « Poor, unfortunate man, it will be a terrible blow for him if he is obliged to give her up." «I fear that it will either kill him or drive him in- sane," returned Signora Pia, wiping her eyes. "And to think that it is through me he must suffer; he has been so good to me. Would to God that I could spare him the pain of parting with the child." « That yon cannot do ; it is your duty to use every means to restore her to those you received her from." « You are right. Father. My own conscience tells me plainly what I must do, and I shall not hesitate a moment." BEBR gnor Hugo, the Bcnlp- ng with Burprise and e girl he calls Lisa is ever suspected it ; but t she was his daughter, and I believed him. be flower she is named I feature ; truly, a dif- ns. Why did I never the girl, it seems." T saw a human being coly child." dll be a terrible blow her up.*' II him or drive him in- iping her eyes. " And he must suffer ; he has God that I could spare e child." your duty to use every )u i-eceived her from." [y own conscience tells i I shall not hesitate a TBB STATUE OF HBBB. m " Are you sure the person who ents-ust sd the child to your cai-e is still living, and that you can find him or her, which ever it was ? " " Yes, Father. I know where to go to find the per- son, for I have suffered enough from dread of being discovered, since I returned to Florence. Once I have seen her, only once ; but, thank God, she did not rec- ognize me. Now that I know where the child is, I shall go to her without fear, and confess the whole." " But you must not let Hugo know of your intention or he will be desperate, and may commit some rash act that will prevent our doing justice to the girl," said Father Ilario, thoughtfully. " I know his strange, un- governable char.icter, and at present he is in a condition of peculiar mental excitement ; therefore, if he sns- pected that measures were being taken to restoi-e the girl to her lawful guardians, he might conceal her, where it would be impossible to find her." "This accounts for his restlessness last nigh*} he never slept, but paced the floor and groaned like one in agony, and when I went to him he drove me away sav- agely. I knew not what to make of it, but now I un- derstand it all." « Through my description of you, he learned from me yesterday that you were the woman from whom he took the child, and whom he believed to be dead, and tliat doubtleas added to his anxiety and trouble." 348 THE STATUE OF EEBB. « Merciful Heaven ! no wonder then that he glared upon me like a wild beast; Father, I fear to return to hia house," said Signora Pia, trembling with dread. « Do not shrink from your duty, my good woman. Heaven will protect you, and I will assist, you all that lies in my power. Go, now, and learn what yon can concerning the parents of the child, and return here and report your success to me ; then, I will advise you what to do after, and I doubt not before nightfall that a mother's heart will be made glad by discovering a long-lost child." After Father Ilario and Signora Pia had left the church and were out of sight, a bent and haggard cr-.a- ture, with wild eyes and drawn face, stepped out from behind the confessional, where he had overheard the conversation that had taken place between the priest and the woman, and shaking his fist menacingly in the direction that they had taken, he muttered, in a choked voice : « And she too, the outcast that I trusted, and loaded with khidness, that I sheltered when she was homeless, and fed when she was hungry, she will con- spire to rob me of my child. O viper I that I have warmed at my fire, you think to turn and sting me ; but I will protect myself from you, I wiU save my idol from your cruel fangs, your poisonous words shall not .enter her ears. She sliall not hear you say that the father she loves is a monster, a thief, a murderer, and r EEBB. ler then that he glared ther, I fear to roturii to jmbling with dread, duty, ray good woman. will assist, you all that nd learn what yon can child, and return here , then, I will advise you lot before nightfall that 5 glad by discovering a ignora Pia had left the I bent and haggard cr'ja- a face, stepped out from e he had overheard the lace between the priest lis fist menacingly in the he muttered, in a choked itcast that I trusted, and sheltered when she was ras hungry, she will con- . O viper 1 that I have to turn and sting me ; but you, I will save my idol poisonous words shall not at hear you say that the a thief, a murderer, and THE STATUE OF HEBE. more, that he is not her father, but a vile impos- tor. I will defeat your well-laid plans ; yon shall not have her— no mother's heart shall be made glad, no lover's arms shall enfold her this night, for I will take her beyond their reach, where she will be safe forever." Lisa lay on the sofa in her room anxiously awaiting the return of her father or Signora Pia, but as the hours wore away and neither came, the poor girl's mind was filled with misgivings of the most harrowing character. What could ail her father? Had he discovered her secret, and was he engaged in some plan to prevent hor from leaving her home that night with Nordiskoff ? Or was he ill and unhappy from some cause that she knew nothing of? He certainly was not himself. Of late he had avoided her, or treated her with a sort of savage affec- tion. She had detected him often looking after her, as though he would devour her, with a wild, hungry look, such as she had sometimes seen in the eyes of the tigers at the zoological gardens, and she had trembled with a strange fear in spite of her love for him. She thought of what Nordiskoff had said about his not being her father, and suddenly she felt a revulsion of feeling toward him. Then, the memory of all his goodness to her, his tender affection during her helpless childhood, his gentle care and patience, melted her heart, and tears ro83 unbidden to her eyes. « I am ill repaying hun to 350 THE STATUE OP HEBE. leave him," she thought, « but when I return I will be 80 good and loving that he will forgive me and be happy again." At that moment she heard the door open, and a heavy, uneven step crossed the studio. ** It is he, at last," she cried, and, springing up, she ran to meet him, her face tender with her recent remorse and sorrow. But when her eyes fell upon his suffering countenance she uttered a cry of dismay. « Oh ! papa, what ails you, are you ill 1 » " I have been ill, my child," he replied, with a wan smile ; "but I am better now." *' Why have you remained so long abroad in this terrible heat ? " " Affairs of importance have detained me." « And Signora Pia, where can she be 1 She went to mass two hours ago, and has not yet returned." "Sleeping over her prayers, in the cool, quiet church, I dare say," returned the hunchback, with a hollow laugh. « The time has seemed so long since I have waited," said the girl, with a heavy sigh. « You are not well, my darling," and Hugo came close to his daughter, taking her hand in his, and, look- ing anxiously into her face. " Your hands are burn- ing, and your cheeks are flushed." « It is the heat, papa, and my anxiety about yoo." # f HEBK rhen I return I will be ill forgive me and be the door open, and a ! studio. '* It is he, at ip, she ran to meet him, >t remorse and sorrow. B suffering countenance re you ill 1 " be replied, with a wan 60 long abroad in this detained me." .nshebel She went to )t yet returned." rs, in the cool, quiet the hunchback, with a rig since I have waited," rling," and Hugo came sr hand in his, and, look- ' Your hands are burn- 3d." ty anxiety about yoo." THE STATUE OF HEBE. 351 « Then you really love your poor father enough to be anxious % " «0h! papa, how can you doubt iti" she cried, bui-sting into tears. In a moment Hugo had his arms about her with a close, savage clasp, kissing away her teai-s passionately, while he said, in a voice intense with emotion: « Say that you love me, my Lisa, say it but once. Let me hear it clear and sweet as you said it in childhood ; my ears long for the sound. Say it, I entreat you." « I love yon, papa, you know I love you," cried the girl, struggling to free herself from his close clasp; "but you terrify me with your violence, with your strange manner." "That is enough; thank you, my sweet child, for those blessed words, and forgive me if I am impulsive and rude. You know I am not like othei-s," sa.d Hn-o, with a sudden change from passionate eagerness to extreme sweetness and gentleness. « Ah I I have distressed you, your eyes are full of teai-s, and your cheeks are hot and flushed. You are tired, you are feverish ; lie down and I will bring you a cooling draught." Lisa obeyed him willingly, for her anxiety, her own painful thoughts, her father's strange agitation, and the contemplated departure with Nordiskoff, had all unnerved her to such a degi-ee that her temples 352 TBS STATUE OF HEBE! throbbed painfully, and her eyes burned with the tears that would come to them m spite of every effort to re- press them. When her father returned with the cooling draught she took it and drank it gratefully, smiling her thanks as she lay back on her pillow ; then a doliciona languor stole over her, a sweet sense of repose. Her father sat by her side smoothing her hair tenderly; and she saw his face, his strange, solemn eyes, his look of intense love, until her lids fell, and a heavy, peaceful sleep wrapped her in its embrace. Punctually at the apiwinted hour Count Valdimer presented himself at the studio of Hugo to express his final approval of the statue, and to pay into his hands the sum agreed upon. The hunchback opened the door himself, and, in- stead of his usual sullen indifference, his manner was that of one greatly elated, and his eyes sparkled with a ferocious joy. " Ah I the mercenary creature," thought Valdimer ; now that ho is about to touch the peonuiaiy reward of his labor, he is more delighted than he ever has been at my most extravagant praises of his work. How strange it is, that his divine genius can be united to such a low, sordid nature. My sweet Lisa need not mourn to leave this hideous deformity, the money will console him, it will be enough for him j he Mrill have OF HEBE '08 burned with the tears pite of every effort to re- vith the cooling draught gratefully, smiling her pillow ; then a delicioua jt sense of repose. Her ;hing her hair tenderly; ge, solemn eyes, his look ell, and a heavy, peaceful ace. sd hour Count Valdimer of lingo to express his ad to pay into his hands le door himself, and, in- ifference, his manner was 1 his eyes sparkled with a ;urc," thought Valdimer ; the peouuiaiy reward of than he ever has been at es of his work. How I genius can be united to Mv sweet Lisa need not leformity, the money will ;h for him ; he moU have THE STATUE OF EEBE. 853 no further need of her beauty to win him wealth ; he has traded upon it long enough, and soon it will be mine, and I shall keep it close enough from his covet- ous eyes." At the far end of the studio hung the heavy crimson curtain, behind which the artist always worked, and which was now lowered before the completed statue. Count Valdimer walked toward it, and was about to lift it, when Hugo touched his arm, and drew him away, saying, as he offered him a chair, " Do not be impatient, Signer Count, I have something to say to you before you examine the statue." " Very well," returned Nordiskoff, throwing himself into a chair a little impatiently, for he was in no mood on this day for tedious conversation, when but a few honrs stood between him and his long-anticipated happiness. " I will listen if you will be brief, for I am in haste." Hugo drew his chair near, and leaning forward, and fixing his wild eyes upon the Count's calm face, he asked with startling intensity in his voice, « Do you know, Signore, what I love best in the world ? " « 1 1 how should I knowl I know nothing of you beyond your genius ; but if I should venture an opin- ion, I should say that it must be your daughter, the lovely model of all your works." "Yes, one would naturally think so; but it is not 854 THE 8TATUB OF HSBB. Lisa that I love best, for elie is not my child. 1 never had a wife; I never had a child. I Btole her for a model, when slie was but an infant." " Wretcliod man, why have you not confessod this before ? " " Hush, do not interrupt me. I have kept the girl only for the wealth she brought me, for it has been her beauty as much as my talent that has raised me fiom want and misery. Lovely and affectionate though she is, I do not adore her as much as 1 do what I create from her. Every statue I model is a part of myself, and every one I dispose of takes a part of my heart and life with it. I know your opinion of me, Signore ; you think I am a sordid, avaricious crea- ture, who loves money more than his art ; but you are mistaken. I love my art more than money, and I will prove it to you. This statue that I have just finished is the most perfect thing that I have ever executed. I worship it, and I cannot part with it." "Whatl" cried Valdimer, "do you not intend to keep to your agreement with mo ? " "Yes, if you insist upon my keeping it; but I appeal to yoi.r generosity." "I cannot be generous in this matter. I have ordered the statue, and I am here to pay you for it ; now let us consider the matter settled definitely." A strange expression passed over Hugo's face, and HSBB. at my child. 1 never cl. I Btole her for a It." on not confeBsod thia I have kept the girl ; me, for it has been ut that has raised me ely and affectionate her as much as I do jT statue I model is a lispoeo of takes a part know your opinion of ordid, avaricious crea- 1 his art ; but you are han money, and I w\\i A I have just finished lave ever executed, I ;h it." do you not intend to i" ly keeping it; but I this matter. I have ere to pay you for it ; Bttled definitely." over Hugo's face, and THE BTATVE OF HEBB. 355 ho said almost ontreatingly, " Oh, Signore 1 cannot you ppiiro mo this, the only thing I love— this work of my hands, of my brain, and of my heart? I have created it, and 1 never loved anything as much as I love this. As greatly as I desire wealth, I prefer to resign the large sum yon are about to pay mo, and keep the Ilebo. Cannot 1 make a compromise with you ? Can- not I give you something in its place?" and the hunchback leaned nearer to his companion, looking into his eyes with a fiendish leer. Count Valdimer changed color, but made no reply. "Hal hal 1 have discovered your secret; you love Lisa, you love my model ; now let me make a fair pro- posal, give mo the ten thousand acudi for her, and allow me to retain her image." " Fiend I " cried Nordiskoff. " Would you sell this lovely girl ? " " I would rather part with her than with the Hebe, and you would rather have her. Would you not ? " "I prefer her to anything in the world, for I love her," said the Count. " How you have discovered my secret I know not, and I care not. I worship her, but I will not bargain for her." " I cannot give up both the statue and the model ; no, I cannot," returned Hugo with fearful emphasis. " Choose, then, one or the other, for I am resolved to keep one." 856 TIIK STATUE OF IIEBB. "Well, then," returned Valdinior, after a moment'* thought. " You may keep the statue, and proniiao mo not to raise any obstacloa to keep Lisa froju mo, and you may have the ten thousand scudi al8t>." " Ah 1 Signor Count, now you are noble and geuo- rouB," cried the hunchhaek in a tone of wild joy. « You may have the girl, I will give her to you with my own hands ; but before I bring her to you, I pray that you will do me the favor to look at the statue, for you have not seen it since I put my choicest touches upon it. Ah I it is life-like, it is wonderful." " What demon of avarice pt)88088C8 this hideous crea- ture? lie seems transformed into a greedy fiend," thought Valdimer, as ho followed him to the spot where the statue stood concealed behind the heavy drapery. With his long, ti-embling fingers clutching the cur- tftin, the hunchback turned, and, looking full in the Count's face, ho said, in a hollow voice that swept over him like an icy wind: "This is the fairest, the best loved thing I possess. It is as beautiful as though it were fresh from the hand of God. It is my work. Behold it! " and with one sweep of his hand he flung the drapery aside, and revealed what it had covered. Count Valdimer stood transfixed, white and cold, for instead of the radiant Hebe, the goddess of youth, the cupbearer of Jupiter, he saw the pale, dead form of F HEBE. linior, after a inomcnt'u statue, and proiniso ino ecp Lisa from me, ami i scudi alw)." ou are noble and gene- ill a tone of wild joy. 11 give her to yoii witli bring her to you, I pniy to look at the statue, for )Ut my choicest touches t is wonderful." 88CS80S this hideous crca- i into a greedy fiend," lowed him to the spot jaled behind the heavy iigera clutching the cur- and, looking full in the ow voice that swept over 3 is the fairest, the best i8 beautiful as though it f God. It is my work, eep of his hand he flung id what it had covered, jfixed, white and cold, for the goddess of youth, the r the pale, dead form of THE STATUE OF HEBE. 857 Lisa extended on a con(!h, hor lovely figure veiled by the golden drapery of hor hair, her hands folded, hor face uptijrned to heaven, and a smile of matchlcsB sweetness on her beautiful lip". With a groan of n<,'ony ho seized the trembling hunchback, and, dashing hbn aside, he cried : " Wretch ! fiend 1 is this your work ? Is this the way you have robbed me of her love ? " A hollow, mocking laugh behind him turned his blood cold in his veins. « YcB, this is the way I am revenged ; hero is the treasure you have bought. I loved hor as you never dreamed of loving her. I worshipped her ae saints worship the Mother of God. 1 toiled for her to win wealth and honor, that she might share it with me. I steeped my hands in the blood of a fellow-creature, thinking to save her from him, and you were the one I should have killed ; yon were the one who stole her love from me, to rnin her and cast her aside when you were weary of her. To-night, yon wore to take her from me. I heard your honeyed lies, your false prom- ises, and I resolved to put her beyond your reach. The last face she saw on earth was mine, her last smile was for me, her last word of love sounded in my ear. Now you may take her body, for her soul is safe with God beyond the power of your despoiling. My lily, my white, etaiuleas lily, you will live in paradise, while m 868 THE STATUE OF HEBE. the wretch that would have mined you moans in tor- ment." There were voices at the door, some one was enter- ing, and Nordiskoff, looking as through a thick mist, saw the Duchess of Castellara, pale, wide-eyed, and excited, followed by Signora Pia, and a woman in the dress of a nun. " Where is she, bring her to me," cried the Duchess, looking bewildered at the group around the conch. Then, seeing the extended form of the girl, with a piercing scream she sprang forward and threw herself on her knees, pressing her lips to the immobile face, while she moaned, " My child, my child." Counf Valdimer heard no more, for the black mist closed around him, a sound like many waters surged in his ears, his limbs tottered under him, and fearing that his senses were deserting him he gave one last look at the beautiful still face, and then fled from the room, followed by the frenzied laugh of the hunchback. >jy HEBE. lined you moans in tor- >or, some one was enter- 13 through a thick mist, :a, pale, wide-eyed, and ?ia, and a woman in the me," cried the Duchess, roup around the conch. jrra of the girl, with a rward and threw herself >s to the immobile face, , my child." more, for the black mist iQ many waters surged in ier him, and fearing that he gave one last look at then fled from the room, [1 of the hunchback. "il OBUCE 8ALU8.» 359 CHAPTEK XXin. "a CKCCE 8ALUS.' [TIEN Signora Pia left the Church of San Marco, she went directly to the Convent of the Sacred Heart, and entering the public re- ception-room she asked if she might see Sister Prudenza immediately, concerning a matter of the greatest impor- tance. The nun in attendance demurred at first, saying that the sister was very weary from watching all night with a poor sufferer, but finally, on seeing how anxious the visitor was, she summoned her. When Sister Prudenza entered the room, Signora Pia trembled visibly, and her voice faltered so as to be hardly audible as she said, " I have something of im- portance to communicate to you. May I talk with you in private ? " " Certainly, my friend, come into this inner room," returned the nun in a gentle, pleasant voice, while at the same time she studied the visitor's face closely. When the door was closed and the two were alone, Signora Pia threw aside her veil and said, " Sister Prudenza, I see that you do not recognize me." " No, I cannot remember you, though your face and 360 "^ CBUCE SALUSy voice are familiar," replied the nun with a pnzzled, anxious look. " 1 am Pia Passerelli." «AhI Holy Mother, why did I not know you at lirst? I did not suppose it was possible to forget you, for through you I have suffered enough." « Forgive me, sister, I was not to blame ; God knows 1 was not." "Where is the child I confided to your care as a most sacred trust % " « She is living and well, sister." « And why have you kept me in ignorance of her all these years ? " « Because I knew not of her whereabouts myself." « You talk in riddles ; I pray you, speak quickly and clearly, for my soul is full of impatience." «I speak the truth, sister; I have but to-day dis- covered the child." " Then you lost her 1 " ' " She was stolen from me." « Then why, in the name of the Blessed Mother, did you not tell me? Why did you leave me all these yeare iu such dreadful uncertainty?" " I feared to come to you and tell you that I had lost the child through disobeying your orders. When you gave her to me, you forbid my ever leaving her alone, you made me promise that I would never take her 'ALUSy \Q nun with a pnzzled, did I not know you at 18 possible to forget you, d enough." lot to blame ; God knows ifided to your care as a ter." 18 in ignorance of her all r whereabouts myself." ay you, speak quickly and impatience." ; I have but to-day dis- f the Blessed Mother, did 1 you leave me all these tainty?" ud tell you that I had lost r your orders. When you ny ever leaving her alone, I would never take her «» A CBUOE SALUS."^ 361 beyond the city, which I did on the day that she was stolen from mo. I went into the country to see my own child, who was ill, and returning I was overcome with fatigue and lost consciousness by the wayside. ■\Vlien I recovered the babe was gone." "And you made no effort to find her?" " I knew not what to do ; my own abandoned infant died, and I was half insane. So I left Florence and did not return for eight years." " And, in the mean time, what had become of the child I intrusted to your care ? " " A lonely, deformed man, living in a little cottage on San Miniato found me unconscious on the wayside, and, believing me to be dead, he took the child and carried it to his home, where he reared her in secret, carefully and tenderly, loving her as his own child, which he represented her to be. By a most singular coincidence, this same man, when I retnrned to Flor- ence after eight years of wandering, pitying my pov- ei-ty and forlorn condition, gave me a home, with the child, under his own roof, where 1 have lived ever since, a companion and mother to the girl who has grown up a very tngel of goodness and beauty." " Holy Virgin ; this is a strange history," returned Sister Prudenza, crossing herself devoutly. "And plainly shows a Divine Providence in its mysterious ordering. I had long ago ceased to believe that either 16 862 •'^ VRUOE SALTS." m ill I you or the child were living. After your disappear- ance, I traced you to the country place you visited, and learned there that a woman and child had died sud- denly. The woman answered your description, and the infant, I thought, must be your nursli.'ig." " And the mother of the babe, did she believe it was dead?" " Yes, poor, unhappy young creature, I thought it best to represent to her that it was dead beyond a doubt, for I feared the uncertainty and anxiety would kill her. She had been privately married and had lost her husband before the child was born, therefore, it seemed advisable to set her mind at rest on that point, for she had trouble enough in concealing her sorrow and her secret from her father, who was a stern, tyrannical man, as well as from the world, that would have been most unmerciful to her. She came to me in her trouble, for she was educated within these sacred walls, and I have been like a mother to her. When the child was born I gave it to you to be nursed, thinking that, after you had suffered, and I had be- friended you, I could trust it with you more safely than with any other. Then think of my bitter sorrow and disappointment when, after a few weeks, you sud- denly disappeared with the infant I had confided so Bolenmly to your care." " But you see, Sister Prudenza, that I was not to After your disappear- y place you visited, and ,nd child had died sud- . your description, and your nursling." e, did she believe it was 5 creature, I thought it it was dead beyond a linty and anxiety would ^ately married and had lild was born, therefore, er mind at rest on that ough in concealing her her father, who was a as from the world, that iiful to her. She came ras educated within these in like a mother to her. /e it to you to be nursed, suffered, and I had be- t with you more safely link of my bitter sorrow er a few weeks, you snd- infant I had confided so ienza, that I was not to ♦M CRUCE 8ALUS." 863 blame for the loss of the babe," said Signora Pia, wiping away her tears. " Perhaps not for the misfortune of losing the child, but you were to blame in not making the loss known tj me at the time." " Certainly that was a sin, and I have shed tears enough for it to wash it away. But I trust it is not too late to restore the girl to her mother, whom I hope is still living." " Yes, she is living, and she is free now to acknowl- edge her child before all the world, for her father is dead, and she is mistress of her own fortune. She is noble, rich and honored, but she is unhappy. Only yesterday she came to me and wept here on my bosom, which has always been her refuge in trouble. Her heart is empty, for she has neither husband nor chil- dren, and this girl, the daughter of the young husband she idolized, will cbmfort her desolate soul." " I am thankful that all may yet be well, and to show my gratitude I will devote my life to the blessed Virgin more faithfully than I ever have done," re- turned Signora Pia, piously. " But this poor man who has always loved the girl, and has now come to think of her as his own, and who has been so good to me, my heart aches for him, for he will suffer so to lose her, and to lose her through me." " You have only done your duty," replied Sister 364 'A CRUGE SALU&" Prudenza, " and you could do no less. Now come with me and we will hasten to tell the mother that her child is living, and near her, that she may embrace her, and hold her to her heart at once." When the carriage containing the nun and Signora Pia entered the court of the Castellara palace, the poor woman was in a tresTior of fear ajid excitement, for the splendor impressed her to such a degree with the wealth and power of the mother she had wn iged, that she scarcely dared confess her fault to so august a personage ; but Sister Prudenza encouraged her, tell- ing her that the lady was khid and gentle, and would readily pardon her when she brought her such good news at last. The run was admitted immediately into the private apartment of the Duc^hess of Castellara, while Signora Pia waited in an ante-room, in a fever of suspense and excitement. She dreaded the interview with this great lady, the mistress of this magnificent palace, and she also feared the furious anger of Hugo when he learned that she whom he trusted had betrayed his secret. At length the door opened and Signora Pia was summoned into the presence of the noble lady. With bent head and humbly-folded hands she followed the servant; and when she raised her eyes every vestige of color fled from her troubled faco. and she gasped, « The Duchess of Castellara I " 78." lo less. Now come the mother that her je may embrace her, ;he nun and Signora istellara palace, the ear and excitement, > such a degree with er she had wn iged, er fault to so angust encouraged her, tell- d gentle, atid would ight her such good tely into the private illara, while Signora sver of suspense and •view with this great lent palace, and she igo when he learned lyed his secret, d Signora Pia was 3 noble lady. With ds she followed the r eyes every vestige ICO. and she gasped, 'A CRUCE 8ALU8." 365 At the same moment the Duchess, as pale and star- tled as the woman before her, looked at Sister Prn- denza and exclaimed : " Wliat does this mean ? I have seen this woman before ; she is Pia, the servant of Hugo the artist ; she surely cainiot be the nurse to whom you gave my child ? " " I am the same, Signora Duchess," said the woman, bowing low and clasping her hands entreatingly. " And my child, where is she ? Take me to her at once." " She is at home in the Via San Gallo." " My God 1 she cannot be Lisa, the hunchback's daughter?" " Lisa is the child that was given me to nurse, and who was stolen from me by Hugo." "Holy Mother! how I am punished, what a fearful retribution is this 1" cried the Duchess, sinking into a chair like one smitten with palsy. " But she is good and lovely, Signora Pia tells me, and she is restored to you safely ; for that, you should be devoutly thankful," said Sister Prudenza, bending over the Duchess and stroking her hair with motherly tenderness. " Lisa, the girl I have despised and hated, my child, Challonner's child, my husbimd's, my adored husband's child, and I have seen her and my heart did not tell me that she was mine I Oh 1 it cannot be possible ; there Il' 11 866 •'-A CRUCE 8ALV8.'' mnst bo some mistake. Tell me that Lisa is not my child 1 " Signora Pia atid the nun looked at each other in astonishnieiit. Instead of expressing joy at the recovery of the child, she seemed to regret it. What could it mean ? « Tell me," continued the Dncliess, " that you are positive there can be no mistake ; that this girl called Lisa is the babe who was born in the Convent of the Sacred Heart, more than sixteen years ago, and that she is my child, and no other's. Oh, do not deceive mo ; I pray you give me some proof that what you say is true." " This may convince yon," said Signora Pia, putting the clasp that she had taken from Father Ilario into the hand of the Duchess ; " this trinket fastened the child's robe when I took her from Sister Pradenza, and it was stolen with her, and has been concealed ever since by the hunchback." « Ah ! there can be no mistake ; she is indeed my child. I wore this clasp during my own babyhood ; it was said to possess a charm that would protect the in- fant who wore it from all evil. I, with ray own weak fingers, fastened it in the child's little dress when she was taken from me. There is no possibility of mistak- ing this; it has belonged to our family for conturios, and it has the Altimonti legend upon it." hat Lisa is not my od at each other in )g joy at the recovery It it. What could it icliess, " that you are that this girl called 1 the Convent of the years ago, and that h, do not deceive me ; that what you say is Signora Pia, putting n Father Ilario into trinket fastened the •om Sister Pradenza, has been concealed :e ; she is indeed my my own babyhood ; it would protect the in- I, with ray own weak little dress when she I possibility of mistak- i- family for conturios, ipon it." "A CRUOB SALVS." 867 Then she started np wildly, her eyes flaming, her face bnrning with vivid red, and taking Signora Pia by the arm, she said fiercely : " You told me she was safe in the Via San Gallo— is it true ? " " Yes, your highnoas, she is there ; I left her there but a few hours ago, and she will be anxiously await- ing my return," replied the woman, trembling and shrinking away from the angry eyes of the Duchess. " I must go to her ; ring for my carriage. Sister Pru- donza. I must go at once. Oh ! Valdimer NordiskofF, if you have harmed one hair of her head, my ven- geance will be terrible. Bring my bonnet, my mantle I am going out," she said as her maid entered, " and make ready the sleeping apartment next to mine, for I shall bring back a guest with mo." Then signing for the nun and Signora Pia to follow her, she hurried out, beside herself with impatience and eager haste. During the short distance to the Via San Gallo, she bade the driver urge his horses to their utmost speed ; seeming forgetful of her pride and self-control, she wrung her hands aiul moaned, « Oh, my child ! my in- jured child, how can I ever make amends for my sin, my cruelty, my insensibility ? Why did not my heart tell me that she was my child ? Ah 1 now, I remember well when I first saw her, as lovely as a cherub, sleeping on the altar steps at San Miniato, how the deptlis of my soul were stirred at the sight of her. And when she 868 "^ OnUUK 8ALU8." raised her sweet eyes to mine, it seemed as though her father Ux)ked at me through thein. Then, for a mo- ment, my better nature spoke to mo ; but pride, hate, and revenge drowned its gentle voice, a!id I went out into the world and forgot tlio angel that had smiled on me." When at last the carriage stopped before Hugo's door, she sprang out and hurried up the steps, that she had mounted so many times with weary, indifferent feet, as though she scarcely touched them, for impatience gave her wings, and the two women found it difficult to keep pace with her. Signora Pia unlocked the door with trembling fingers, and in an instant the Duchess was in the artist's studio, looking with wild eyes and bewildered brain on the senseless form of the young girl extended pale and cold on the place where the statue of Hebe had always stood. At first, the Duchess did not understand what had taken place. She saw Valdimer's pale and horror- stricken face as he fled, followed by Hugo's frenzied laughter. She saw the couch under the shadow of tlie crimson curtain. She saw the rigid, immobile form of the girl she had come to claim, veiled with its golden hair, the hands clasped over the breast, the eyes closed, the face upturned as white and still as chiselled mai^ ble. She saw it all, and yet she did not understand. Wheu she threw herself upon her knees, and cried, LUS." Bceinod as though her iin. Then, for a mo- ) mo ; but prido, hate, voice, and I went out gel that had smiled ou (topped before Hugo's 1 up the steps, that she weary, indifferent feet, them, for impatience )men found it difiicult lora Pia unlocked the nd in an instant the idio, looking with wild le senseless form of the )ld on tlie place where tood. understand what had ner's pale and horror- ed by Hugo's frenzied nder the shadow of tlie igid, immobile form of veiled with its golden breast, the eyes closed, still as chiselled mar* I did not understand, n her knees, and cried, ••il ORUOB 8 ALUS." 368 " Mv child ! My child 1 " and there was no response ; when she clasped her arms around her and there was no warmth or motion ; when she pressed lier lips upon the peaceful fii<:e and there was no Bmile or word, then she know that some droad caliimity had overtaken her. "You need not call her, she wi,' not hear you!" cried Hugo, with a iiondish laugh. "You need not embrace lier, for she is as cold and lifeless as tlio mar- ble image before yon. You need not kiss her, she will not be conscious of your carcssos. Love and scorn aro the same to her now, for hIio is beyond all earthly feel- ing." "My Godl you cannot mean that 'ui is dead I" cried the Duchess in an agonized voice. " Yes, she is dead. I killed her to save her from ruin. To night she would have fleii from me with the man who jnst looked upon her for the last time. Ho deceived her with his honeyed lies until she was ready to desert rae for him ; ready to leave the one that wor- shipped her for a .stranger— a base, bad man. All have conspired to rob me of her; even this viper, that I warmed at my fire," and he turned his frenzied gaze upon Signora Pia, who stood trembling with fear and horror. " But I have defrauded you of your triumph, I have sent her beyond your reach ; she is safe from the spoiler's snare. With my own hand I gave her the draught that quenched her sweet life. She smiled 16* 870 "A CRUCE SALU8.» on mo when slio Irank it, and called me father with her last breatli." " Demon 1 she was not yonr child! Wretch I how dare y; > take her from me, her mother 1" cried the Dnrher*, Bprinf^ii'f? toward the wretched creature as thoiij.';ii she would destroy him at a glance. " Yon, her mother » You ? " said the hnnchbHck, slowly, pressinjr his hands to his lemplos and looking at her vaguely \ ith his red, wild eyes. " You are the Duchess of Casiollara. Ah! I remember, now , you are Nemesis, Neinesis, and you have come to itinish nio ; you have come to be avenged 1 " then with his haiida outstretched he retreated slowly before her, as though he would protect himself from her fury until he reached the door. There his hands dropped, and, crouching at her feet, he turned his haggard face up- ward while a strange light broke over it, and he mur- mured, as though he were speaking to himself : " You were the Angel of the Church, you saved me once, you gave me this," drawing the ring from his bosom and pressing it to his lips ; " and you told me if I ever needed help to come to you. I need it now. I have long needed it, and I come ; forgive me, save me." " Go, leave me, murderer, fiend ! I fear you and I will Jiever forgive you," cried the Duchess retreating from him in horror. Then the light faded from his wan face, and stag- iiiiaiiliiWim'iii''fe-' called me father with chihl ! Wretch 1 how >r motlier!" cried the wretched creature a» t a glance. ' said the hunchbick, is (eniplos and looking Id eyes. " You are the remember, now you have come to j-'inish anged 1 " then with his i slowly befoiv her, as 3lf from her fury until lis hands dropped, and, d his haggard face up- Ice over it, and he mnr- dng to himself : " You li, you saved me once, a ring from his bosom id you told mo if I ever I need it now. I have irgive mo, save rao." fiend! I fear you and i the Duchess retreating his wan face, and stag- IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) V. /. i^id. f/. 1.0 I.I t 1^ 12.0 IM 2.2 - 6" 1.8 11.25 llil 1.4 i 1.6 9 / & /a :> .>^ L Hiotographic Sciences Corporation .y 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 -IF ' -r t«jrr« •« vfeWi JS)K^«?»r nw.i^MS'MTO^nBapf^y'^B^ fc ^ I CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHIVI/ICMH Collection de microfiches. ^:- Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques "•j|j|jy}gags*;^.,jfei— ■'-v.-' ««il GRUGE SALUS:' 371 gering to his feet he moaned, « It is true— there is no mercy for me, no salvation— the angel of compaa- Biou has changed to a Nemesis, and I am doomed. My Lisa, farewell ; I would have repented, so that I could have met thee again, but there is no mercy for me ; farewell life, farewell hope," and with a groan ot heart-breaking anguish, he opened the door and disap- peared from their sight, his haggard face wearing the expression of utter despa'r and hopeless agony. When he had gone, the Duchess turned again to the couch where Signora Pia and the nun stood weeping silently. Kneeling by the side of her child, the wretched mother looked long and tenderly into her face, as though she were seeking to discover the linea- ments of the one she had loved so well, and said be- tween her broken sobs : « My husband, forgive me, for I knew not what I did. I would have loved her. I would have devoted my life to her had she not been taken from me. Sweet victim ! you have been sacrificed for the sin, the pride, the passion of those who should have loved and protected thee, and tears and prayers of penitence are alike useless now." Lifting the heavy veil of her hair, the Duchess laid her face on the quiet bosom of her child, and folding her arms around her as though she would keep her for- ever in her embrace, prayed silently. nltllalilCtMtrrtaillWlWri-'''' "*''*°'r~"" ,i,tni.-iiMi«i!aKtot^ 372 "^ CRUCE 8ALU8." Snddonly, with a wild cry, she Btrt.rted up, and seiz- ing Sister Prndenza by the arm, she said: " Listen and tell me if her heart beats, for I am sure I felt the faintest pulsation." » r - 1. * The nun placed her ear against the girl's bosom and listened intently ; for a moment there was deep silence, the mother and Signora Pia standing with bated breath and compressed lips. " Ah ! yes, she breathes, her heart flutters feebly, she is not dead," cried Sister Prudenza. " She is in a state of syncope, and life has not left her." " Go quickly for a doctor — go, Signora Pia, and if we can save her I will serve God as I never have be- fore," and the Duchess seized the woman's hand and hurried her to the door. H>r*»:.^ •m ns f.r Then she lifted the heavy head of the girl and laid it on her bosom, while she and the nun chafed the wrists and temples, which were as cold as marble under their touch. Signora Pia's feet must have had wings on that occasion, for, before they had dared expect her, she re- turned with a doctor, who said at once that there was both life and hope. The deadly draught had but half done its work ; the wretched hunchback was not skilled in the use of poi- sons, and he had given an overdose that resulted in the appearance of death only, for in less than an hour, 8ALU3." , she Bti^rted up, and seiz- rra, she said: " Listen and for I am sure I felt the jainst the girl's bosom and ent there was deep silence, :*ia standing with bated her heart flnttere feebly, • Prudenza. " She is in a } not left her." — go, Signora Pia, and if B God as I never have be- )d the woman's hand and head of the girl and laid and the nun chafed the were as cold as marble have had wings on that i dared expect her, she re- lid at once that there was ut half done its work ; the >t skilled in the use of poi- rerdose that resulted in the for in less than an hour, 'A CRUCE SALU8." ms under the judicious treatment of the physician, Lisa breathed softly, and opened her sweet eyes upon the happy face of her mother, who bent over her. « Thank God, she is saved," cried the Duchess, fall- ing on her knees in an ecstasy of happiness and grati- tude. When the wretched hunchback rushed away from the anger of Nemesis, he had but one desire in his despairing, hopeless soul, and that was to reach the river, where he could find speedy oblivion and relief from the anguish that was consuming him. With wild, burning eyes, and clenched hands, he rushed on through the familiar streets, down the Lung' Arno, by the palaces and squares, among the gay crowd that turned and looked at him wonderingly, but no friendly hand was outstretched to save him. " To the river, to the river," seemed to sound in his ears like roaring torrents. «To the river," the people seemed to shout as he dashed by: the wind that smote his cheek seemed to hiss, «To the river." On the pave- ment under his feet, on the heavens above him, was written in letters of fire, « To the river, to the river." And so he went on and on, until the peaceful, wind- ing Arno reached out her arms for him, and with one dull, heavy splash he was folded in her embrace and at rest forever. The next morning they found him floating among jiKDi m Ka K acliir r •nmmmtn'l^tfVfT'- ■^■•^^•■'^'eshixiM m ir k a. ni irMn stmi^insem^' ' sn ENRICO' 8 REWARD. tho piers of the Ponte Vecchio. The bridge where he had made his first venture in life finished all his woes and disappointments. " It is lingo, the sculptor," said one of the bystandei-s, as they drew his deformed body out of the water and laid it on the bank for a curious crowd to gaze at. "His prosperity must have turned his brain, for he was to receive ten thousand scudi for a statue of Ilcbe." " Madre di Dio, and he has drowned himself. Of couree he was mad." Tightly clasped in one stiff hand was a gold ring with a coronet and the legend " a cruoe scUus." CHAPTER XXIV. ENBIOO'S KEWAKD. RN a garden of one of the most beautiful villas on the lake of Como, two ladies were slowly walking back and forth among the roses and jasmines, shaded by the fragrant branches of the orange and myrtle, that extended protectingly over them. ARD. The bridge whore he B finished all his woes one of the bystandera, out of the water and )U8 crowd to gaze at. led his brain, for he wudi for a statue of h'owned himself. Of land was a gold ring J, cruoe solus" XIV. aiD. 3 most beautiful villas two ladies were slowly \i among the roses and rant branches of the ded protectingly over ENRICO'S REWARD. 879 One was not far from middle life, the other in the Hi-st flush of youth and beauty; the elder was a tall, queenly woman, with glorious dark eyes, rich golden hair, a soft pale skin, and a mouth of exquisite loveli- ness, around which lingered a sad smile. The younger was slight and fair, with blue eyes, complexion of trans- parent whiteness, and hair as light as the silken tassels of corn. It was not difficult to judge that the relationship between them was that of mother and daughter, e\-en if one had not overheard their conversation, for the girl clung affectionately to her companion, who walked with her arm around her in a tender, protecting man- ner. The morning was lovely, the blue and cloudless sky was reflected in the mirror of the lake, the magnolia, orange, and acacia dipped their odorous branches in the gentle, rippling waves that washed the flowery banks. The marble steps of the villa, the urns of blooming flowers, the winged doves, the stately, slender columns, all were repeated again and again on the sapphire-like surface of the fairest sheet of water in the world ; while the mountains and olive-crowned hills stood around like watchful sentinels, with linked hands, keeping guard over a precious jewel. « Oh, mamma 1 is not nature perfect ; does it not satisfy one fully?" said the girl in a clear, happy 1 ■ ^lAWWMKfftMHHKl I 376 ENRICO'S BE WARD. voice, while lier admiring eyes drank in the scene be- fore her. « Yes, my Lisa, it leaves us nothing to desire, and it never disappoints and deceives us ; it is always sin- cere and truthful, no matter what its mood may be. We can worship it without fear, we can turn to it in sorrow, and it always consoles us. It is God's own handiwork, therefore it must be good." « I used to dream of such a picture as this, hour after hour, when I was sitting in the dreary studio in the Via San Gallo," said the girl with a soft sigh ; " and wish I had wings that I might fly to such a spot, and never leave it." « Poor child, you were little better than a prisoner then, and those four gloomy walls were your prison ; but it is over, and you must not think any more of it, my darling." " But papa was good to me." « Pray do not say * papa ; ' it hurts me to hear you, and it would be better for you to forget the unfortu- nate creature who wronged you so." "I cannot, mamma, if I desired to. Only think for how many years he was all I had in the world to love ; why, there is not a day that I do not remember some little act of tenderness and patient self-denial toward me." « For his care of you I owe him a debt of gratitude ; rARD. drank in the scene be- nothing to desire, and 'C8 us ; it is always siii- rhat its mood may be. ir, we can turn to it in I us. It is God's own ) good." a picture as this, hour in the dreary studio in 1 with a soft sigh; "and fly to such a spot, and ) better than a prisoner ^alls were your prison ; ot think any more of it, it hurts me to hear you, a to forget the unfortu- u so." desired to. Only think 11 1 had in the world to that I do not remember and patient self-denial him a debt of gratitude ; ENRIC&8 REWARD. hut the memory of his sin, and his dreadful intention to take your precious life, tills me with horror when I think of it." " But remember, mamma, that he was not in his right mind ; he was insane, or he never would have harmed a hair of my head. Do not speak bitterly of him, he was so unfortunate, and he suffered so much. Poor, unhappy soul 1 I trust at the last that God for- gave him, for ho died with your ring clasped in his hand, as though he found some hope in the legend to comfort him in his hour of supreme agony." "Sweet child, your gentle nature, your generous heart, can find excuse and forgiveness for all who have wronged you," and the Duchess of Castellara stooped and. pressed her lips fondly to her daughter's cheek. « It is because I am so happy now, mamma. God has been so good to me, then why should I not be good to those who have sinned and suffered, for all who sin must endure some punishment as a penalty for dis- obeying their own conscience, and forgetting their sacred duty. Now that my trouble is over, and 1 can look calmly on the past, I know that I was a great sinner in my love for Valdimer— for Count Nordiskoff —for I deceived the one who was a father to me, who trusted and loved me ; T concealed the truth from him, and allowed myself to be over-persuaded, when in my heart I felt that it was all wrong; but I loved him, vfs^e^sntf-t- 378 ENUICaS REWARD. mamma, oh 1 I Ic.ved him ! rtuI wlien I hoard h.8 voice it Boomed as tliouj^h an aii-el Bi)()ko to mo," and Li.a turned away hor head to hide hor dim eyes and Unshod face from hor mother's searching gazo. « IIo was a falrto, bad man, my child, and your greatest enemy. 1 hope that yon have driven him en- tirely from your heart, and that yon love him no more," said the Duchess, sternly. " Ahl mamma, you know that I despise him now as mnch as I loved him once. But, can you blame me for trusting him thenl" "No, my Lisa, I cannot, for I once trusted him my- self ; and if ho could deceive me, how much easier it was to gain a conquest over your innocence and youth, pcx>r child ! You know so little of the world, you wore BO inexperienced and confiding, that his sin in deceiv- ing yon was greater thati though you had been older and more worldly wise." "Then you forgive me, mamma? I have always wanted to ask yon to pardon me for the sin of decep- tion, yet I daro not speak of it to you ; but now I may know that you forgive me and trust me, may I not? " « Yes, my darling, I forgave you long ago ; for your . fault was but the result of your inexperience, and I could not withhold my pardon from you when I had 80 much to blame myself for." "Hush! mamma dear, I cannot allow you to find WARD. Riul wlien I hoard his ii-ijel Bpoko to mo," imd hide hor dun oycs and searching gazo. II, my child, and your ?ou have driven him en- that yon love him no iftt I despise him now as 3ut, can you bhvme me I once trusted him my- me, how much easier it iiir innoctnco and youth, le of the world, you wore g, that his sin in deceiv- )ngh yon had been older lamma? I have always me for the sin of decop- t to you ; but now I may i trust me, may I not ? " e you long ago ; for your your inexperience, and I )n from you when I had cannot allow you to find KNlilCOfS REWARD. 370 fault with yourself. Your gcK)dnoBB to mo now more than atones for all crrore of the past. God kept mo Hufely for you, and my fortunate deliverance from a great danger has taught mo to bo always truthful and honest to those who have the right to my confidence." " 1 am glad to hear these words, my child, for I have sometimes feared that you might keep your tnost sacred feelings hidden from mo, that yon might con- ceal some of your inner life from the eyes that would read your heart as an open book." " Nay, mamma, there is nothing that I would keep from yon." " No regret for the past— no desire for the future? " "I>o you moan in regard to Count NordiskofE? Ah ! mamma, my only regret is that 1 over saw him — that I was foolish enough to have loved him; but, believe me, it is all over, and I have no other desire" for the future than to love you and to devote my life to you." " Are you quite sure that, among all the handsome vonnt' nobles who would win your heart and hand, that there is none you care for ? " « None, mamma. They are all kind and good to me, because I am your daughter; they admire mo, because I am a little like you ; that is all ; but I care no more for one than another." "How is that, my Lisa? You are young, rich, 1 ftl^*»^»*^-i'^^B**'^*Kfe'»SW«IS©«*«*<'=-^ «»»*wr«(W^*- 880 ENIlWaa REWARD. and lovely, and, during the two yoare tlait you l.avo boon under my caro, you have worked 8o hard to im- prove yourself, that there are few girls of your age more accomplished and intelligent; therefore, you already have many suitors to whom I must give some reason for refusing. What can I say to them, pray?" .- « Tell them that I love my mamma too well to leave her," returned the girl, laughing and clinging fondly to her mother's arm. "Sweet flatterer 1 that is no reason at all. Your love for me will not prevent you from loving your husband." "But 1 will have no hnsband," cried the girl with a startled look. " Oh, mamma, why must I think of such a thing, why caimot I remain with you and be happy « " « Yon can, my sweet darling, if you wish to, and your mother, who has hei-self suffered bo deeply, will never force you to wed against your inclination. But I have had a proposal for your hand, a written pro posal ; it came yesterday, a large important letter from Florence, and I must prepare to answer it. In fact, my dear, your Cousin Enrico comes this very day to receive the answer," and the Duchess fixed her eyes steadily on the face of her daughter. " Cousin Enrico is coming for the answer 1 Why, what has he to do with it, pray \ " said Lisa in a trem- WARD. vo yoan that you Imvo ) worked so hard to iiu- fow girls of your b^'o IHgont; therefore, you to whom I must give ^hat can I say to thcui, namma too well to leave ing and clinging fondly ao reason at all. Your X you from loving your id," cried the girl with a why must I think of such with you and be happy "i " ing, if you wish to, and f snffered bo deeply, will ist your inclination. But •our hand, a written pro- irge important letter from re to answer it. In fact, ;o comes this very day to le Duchess fixed her eyes aughter. ig for the answer I Why, ray ? " said Lisa in a trem- ESRICO'H HE WARD. 881 ulous voice, while a fl