TANCREDI: 
 
 A TALE OF THE OPERA 
 21 Nouel. 
 
 BY 
 
 DR. E. ALLEN WOOD. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 G. W. Dillingham, Publisher, 
 
 SUCCESSOR TO G. W. CARLETON & Co. 
 MDCCCLXXXVIII. 
 
 ! $
 
 Copyright, 1887, 
 
 BY 
 
 E. ALLt A > WOOD. 
 
 [All Bights Reserved.] 
 
 STEREOTYPE!) BY 
 
 SAMTJSI. STODDEK, 
 
 42 DKT STRKET.N. Y.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PART FIRST. 
 
 Page 
 
 LEX TALIONIS & 
 
 PART SECOND. 
 FIDES PUNICA 104 
 
 PART THIRD. 
 
 DIES IRAE 873 
 
 [iii] 
 
 2046154
 
 TANCREDI: 
 
 A TALE OF THE OPERA. 
 
 PAET FIRST. 
 LEX TALIONIS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " Our acts are our angels, or good or ill, 
 Our fatal shadows that walk by us still." 
 
 " IT is Jarl, the Miller's Boy." 
 
 " Good for him ! served him right ! It'll learn him 
 to sneak in another time where he's not wanted !" 
 
 " How cruel of yon to say that ! Poor boy ! See 
 his arm all torn and bloody !" 
 
 " Let him stay where he belongs, and the dog won't 
 bite him." 
 
 " How do you know but what he came on business 
 
 CKJ
 
 6 TANCREDI. 
 
 with Mr. Bellim ? And even if he didn't, its wicked 
 to have him bitten by that nasty brute." 
 
 " That's what the dog's for." 
 
 - " Well, 1 don't want any savage dog about our 
 house to tear harmless children who may come into the 
 yard." 
 
 " Children ! Why, Jarl's as old as I am ; he's fif- 
 teen, at least." 
 
 " Humph 1 And what are you but a lad ? I'd like 
 to know." 
 
 " Well, I'm old enough to know better than to go 
 where I an't wanted." 
 
 " And Pm. old enough to know that it is a cruel 
 shame to have a boy bitten by a dog as Jaii is ; and it's 
 wicked in you to say ' served him right.' " 
 
 The young people who carried on this conversation 
 were Caspar Liftal, aged fifteen, and Charlotte Duval, 
 aged twelve. 
 
 The occasion was a children's lawn party, given at 
 the residence of Frederick Relliin, on the thirteenth 
 anniversary of his daughter's birthday. 
 
 In the midst of the juvenille festivities, a terrible 
 cry was heard, a cry of distress, accompanied by the 
 angry barking of a dog, in the direction of the front, 
 lawn, where the curious children ran in time to see the 
 gardener dragging and beating off the large house mas- 
 -tiff, which ferociously attacked a lad that had stepped
 
 TANCREDI. 7 
 
 inside the front gate. The fortunate rescue by the 
 gardener saved the victim from being torn to pieces. 
 
 The wounded youth, Jarl the Miller's Boy, as he 
 was called, was raised to his feet, and it was found 
 that his right arm was frightfully lacerated. 
 
 His face was ashy pale, but he uttered no word of 
 distress. There was something wicked and startling 
 in the proud bearing of his compact, graceful form, 
 blemished though it was by torn garb and mangled 
 arm. There was a look of mingled hate and defiance 
 iu his pallid face as he glared on the fierce brute now 
 being dragged away by the servant, a look so strik- 
 ing in its wild brave beauty that would attract the 
 attention of the most indifferent looker-on. 
 
 His head was uncovered, and the black hair fell in 
 tangled curls over eyes dark as night. His dress was 
 torn away at the throat, leaving the bosom bare, and 
 through the pallor could be seen that dusky hue pecu- 
 liar to natives of Southern climes. 
 
 Jarl the Miller's Boy, was a notorious character in 
 the neighborhood. He was noted for his wonderful 
 beauty, for his wickedness, for his courage, and for the 
 mystery connected with his advent into the settlement. 
 
 " Are ye mooch hurted, lad?" asked the gardener. 
 " Better coome to the 'ouse un 'ev yer arm tied hup." 
 
 The wondering children gathered into a following 
 group as the servant, leading Jarl, went to the honse.
 
 8 TANCREDI. 
 
 Charlotte Duval and Caspar Leftal fell in at the rear 
 of the advancing column, while they carried on the 
 conversation narrated at the opening of this chapter. 
 
 It was the custom, as it was felt to be the duty, of 
 the good people of the community to speak ill of Jarl. 
 His spirited and combative ways gave them abundant 
 pretext and occasion for saying evil things of him and 
 for treating him shamefully also. There were few 
 persons around who did not conscientiously believe 
 that he merited all he got avoidance, frowns, kicks, 
 and a bad name. 
 
 Jarl was accordingly used as a standing moral text, 
 somewhat as Satan was once used, to instil into the 
 minds of all children a wholesome dread of evil doing. 
 He was a social beacon flashing out the red lights of 
 sin and folly, warning good boys and girls to steer clear 
 of his dangerous soundings. 
 
 Hence it was that Master Caspar Liftal took sides 
 against the unfortunate youth. 
 
 Caspar was not at heart a bad boy ; lie was not bet- 
 ter or worse than the average boy, but he was, what 
 his surroundings made him, an enemy of Jarl. The 
 opinion of Caspar's parents, as well as that of the 
 neighbors, was that the Miller's Boy should be howled 
 down the winds, and accordingly Caspar felt it his 
 duty to raise his voice in denunciation of the wicked 
 youth.
 
 TANCREDI. 9 
 
 Why Charlotte Duval did not join in the chorus of 
 the villifiers is a mystery. Her action in this belongs 
 to the anomalous class of instances wherein a child will 
 not always walk in the beaten way ! Why she took 
 up the cudgel in his behalf deepens the mystery. She 
 herself could riot have accounted for her behavior at 
 the time ; she could not have even justified her course, 
 for had she not, time and again, heard of Jarl's wick- 
 edness ? 
 
 When they reached the hall entrance, they were 
 met by Mr. Rellim, who inquired what the trouble 
 was. 
 
 " The lad been hurted by Blucher, Sir. See 'is 
 arm ; and he needs summat to tie it hup." 
 
 " Where did this happen ?" asked Kellim. 
 
 " On the fronten lawn, Sir." 
 
 " What business has he on my lawn ? Poaching, I 
 suppose; stealing flowers?, eh! Or, maybe he was 
 cheeky enough to join the children's party ! Let him 
 go home and get his arm tied up." 
 
 Charlotte Duval had instinctively crowded her way 
 to the front while Rellim was speaking, impelled by 
 sympathy for the suffering and abused boy. She 
 begged Rellim not to act so unfeelingly. 
 
 " O let him rest before you send him off, Sir, 
 please. See his arm how it is torn and how it bleeds ! 
 See how pale he is ! Have mercy ! Please, Sir, allow
 
 10 TANCREDI. 
 
 James to dress his arm," cried the sympathetic 
 
 maiden. 
 
 " I want no beggar's leavings about my premises," 
 exclaimed the host in a passion. " James, lead him to 
 the gate and drive him off." 
 
 After giving this brutal order, JJellim turned and 
 entered the house. 
 
 Jurl raised his sound arm as if to salute Charlotte, 
 and looked at her the thanks his tongue was unable to 
 utter. He then turned in the path, took a step for- 
 ward, his head fell on his breast, his legs bent under 
 him and he fell to the ground in a swoon. 
 
 "He has fainted!" cried Charlotte, kneeling at his 
 side. "Bring water, some one quick !" 
 
 One of the boys brought cold water from the near 
 spring, which was dashed in the face of the uncon- 
 scious lad, when lie opened his eyes and was once more 
 raised to his feet. 
 
 One of the children had recovered his cap, and 
 now handed it to him. From its lining he took a note 
 addressed to Frederick Eellim, and gave it to the 
 servant. Jarl uttered no word, but with a bewildered 
 stare, seen in sleep-walkers, he slowly went out into 
 the public highway. Charlotte Duval followed close 
 after him, begging that she might render him some 
 assistance.
 
 TANCREDI. 11 
 
 "I want a drink of water, please," he gently said, 
 after lie reached the public road. 
 
 She brought him the drink, while he sat on the 
 roadside and waited. 
 
 These attentions of Charlotte toward one who was 
 looked on as an outlaw, again brought the young 
 people around Jarl, some of whom seemed inclined to 
 second Charlotte's kindness, while others, like Caspar, 
 sneered at her work and insulted the miserable boy. 
 She paid no attention to their jeers, but took from her 
 shoulders a scarf and wound it about the boy's arm 
 and neck, improvising a dressing in which the injured 
 limb was comfortably supported. 
 
 "He'll keep your scarf! You'll never see it 
 again," exclaimed Caspar. 
 
 Charlotte's face flushed with anger as she turned 
 and frowned on the cruel speaker. 
 
 " Would you like to keep the scarf, Jarl ?" she 
 asked, turning toward him with kindness in voice and 
 face. 
 
 " And will you give it me ?" he replied, while a 
 pleased smile lit up his wan face. 
 
 "Why should you like to keep my scarf?" asked 
 Charlotte, tenderly. 
 
 Jarl made no reply. He hung his head, while the 
 tears welled in his eyes and flowed down his pallid 
 cheeks.
 
 13 TANCREDT. 
 
 " Keep it, Jarl. Yes, keep it ; I give it you," cried 
 the girl, touched by his distress. 
 
 " His mother taught him to beg ; that's his trade," 
 said Caspar. 
 
 Some, not all, laughed at his malignant witticism. 
 
 " Your mother has not taught you to be a gentle- 
 man," cried Charlotte, now throughly aroused with 
 anger. 
 
 "Mv mother's as good as yours," retorted Caspar. 
 
 " Quick as a flash, Jarl was at Charlotte's side, and 
 terrible was the look he gave Caspar Liftal, who slunk 
 away like a whipped cur. 
 
 The brutal taunts of Caspar affected one thing they 
 dispersed all regret at having parted with her scarf. 
 She was glad to see it on the boy's neck, proud that it 
 became him so well, and exultant because all could see 
 him wearing it. 
 
 The brutal treatment of Kellim toward the wounded 
 boy had aroused her compassion ; the jeers of her com- 
 panions had aroused her indignation, and Charlotte 
 Duval, the tender maiden, took the first step which 
 woman takes when she follows man into crime or exile. 
 
 Jarl lifted his cap to her, and, oblivious of others, 
 walked slowly away. 
 
 Charlotte, the inchoate woman, followed him with 
 her eyes until he was lost to view, when she, too, 
 departed unceremoniously for her home. 
 
 The scarf which Charlotte gave Jarl was unique,
 
 TANCREDI. 13 
 
 and, as it may possibly require identification hereafter, 
 the reader's attention is directed to a crimson silk scarf 
 with a heart and anchor in white silk embroidered in 
 either end. It was a present from her aunt, and which 
 she admired with all a girl's passion for any beautiful 
 article of dress. It was yielding much when she 
 wound it about Jarl's arm ; it was parting with a toilet 
 idol when she bade him keep it.
 
 14 TANCREDI. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 " Chance rules all above, 
 
 And sliuffles, with a random hand, the lots 
 
 Which men are forced to draw." 
 
 THE note brought by Jaii was carried by the ser- 
 vant into the house, but the master to whom it was 
 addressed was gone, no one knew whither. It was two 
 o'clock in the afternoon before he came in from the 
 back fields of his farm. He then read the note. From 
 his actions it must have been an exciting note. He 
 was so strongly moved by its contents that he siezed 
 his hat and rushed off to the stable, yelling for his 
 coachman at every jump. In a brief space he was 
 mounted and galloping toward Pittsburgh, four miles 
 away. 
 
 His daughter was curious to know the contents of 
 that note, which he dropped in his mad haste, and read 
 what follows : 
 
 PITTSBURGH, June, 28th 18 . 
 FREDERICK RELLIM. 
 
 SIR: The Plow and Anvil bank will suspend 
 this day. This information is authentic and reliable. 
 Get your money out as quick as you can. 
 
 AARON FULMORE.
 
 TANCREDI. 15 
 
 "When Rellitn arrived at the bank he found an 
 excited crowd gathered about its closed doors, on which 
 was placarded the stereotyped explanation usually 
 pasted on recently collapsed financial institutions. The 
 assemblage surged and jostled each other in their 
 frenzy to get near enough to read that notice ; and 
 those who did read it swallowed the statement with as 
 keen a satisfaction as though it really meant anything 
 honest, or was an endorsed and secured promise to pay 
 all liabilities whatsoever. Reliim was furious, nor was 
 he appeased by reading the hope-inspiring placard. 
 
 " How long has the bank been closed ?" he asked a 
 bystander. 
 
 " Xot over an hour." 
 
 Reliim had on deposit in the broken bank about 
 twenty thousand dollars. The amount was not large 
 for a man of his reputed wealth ; at most it would not 
 have been large in ordinary times. But at this special 
 time it was likely to be a very critical sum. He had 
 recently purchased an immense tract of coal lands, and 
 this money was held in reserve as a part of the final 
 payment of the same, and which payment came due 
 on the first of the ensuing July, a few days from that 
 time. 
 
 He met a director of the collapsed bank, Mr. Ful- 
 more, one of his most intimate and trusted friends.
 
 16 TANCHEDI. 
 
 " What is the matter with the Plow and Anvil ?" 
 he asked the director. 
 
 " It's gone up, I fear, for good. We had a heavy 
 run on us yesterday, but thought to squeeze through, 
 until the Baltimore Company went for us this morn- 
 ing, wicked. But I'm glad you got your money out, 
 old fellow." 
 
 " But I did not get my money out." 
 
 "Not get your money out! What do you tell 
 me? Why, as soon as I got an inkling of the Balti- 
 more's game I wrote } 7 ou a note of warning, and 
 posted it off to you in haste." 
 
 " Yes; well, I got that note, but I didn't get it till 
 two o'clock." 
 
 "The very minute the bank closed its door! 
 What happened that you did not get the word earlier ? 
 I started it off at ten this morning. I gave it to Jarl, 
 the Miller's Boy, who was going your way." 
 
 " Well, he brought the note all right, but, curse 
 my luck, he was met by my watch dog and pretty 
 badly used up. I didn't know the young vagabond 
 had a letter for me, and so I ordered him off my 
 premises. I'll thank you to send your letters by a 
 trusty messenger another time." 
 
 " How came it that he did not deliver the note at 
 the time you drove him away 2" 
 
 " Oh, that wouldn't be Jarl ! I suppose the young
 
 TANCREDI. 17 
 
 beggar was offended- at what I said. When I told my 
 servant to turn him out the gate, I left the house and 
 went across the fields to the back of my farm, and did 
 not return till two. Then I read the note." 
 
 A brief investigation into the affairs of the Plow 
 and Anvil disclosed the fact that it was hopelessly 
 insolvent, it would not pay one per cent. 
 
 Of course, as usual in like cases, many attempts 
 were made through many years in the courts to 
 squeeze blood out of the shrunk turnip, and some 
 blood was drawn from other sources, but it, all went 
 into the veins of constables and lawyers. 
 
 It has already been remarked that the peculiar 
 crisis in Rellim's affairs at this particular time was 
 likely to make the loss of his deposit embarrassing; 
 but it was not feared that it would involve him 
 ruinously. 
 
 The adage, " Misfortune comes not singly," is gen- 
 erally painfully exemplified when a bank breaks. 
 Kellim felt all the force and bitterness of the saying 
 after the collapse of the Plow and Anvil. A large 
 amount belonging to his debtors was likewise lost by 
 the failure, some of his heaviest debtors were driven 
 into bankruptcy thereby, and it turned out that, 
 directly and indirectly, his loss in the aggregate was 
 enormous. But even then he might have weathered 
 the storm, were it not for a fresh misfortune the
 
 18 TANCREDI. 
 
 oppression by the Baltimore Company. Active com- 
 petion in buying coal lands was at that time lively in 
 Allegheny county, and when the Baltimore Company 
 learned of Itellim's straightened circumstances, that 
 company saw in it the opportunity to drive an active 
 competitor to the wall. Accordingly, that powerful 
 corporation brought up his paper wherever it could, 
 got possession of some heavy claims against him, 
 refused to extend his obligations, and the result was 
 that Frederick Rellim, who was considered one of the 
 most substantial capitalists of the county, was driven 
 into bankruptcy and into financial ruin. 
 
 In four months from the time when he branded 
 Jarl a beggar and thrust him from his gate, he him- 
 self passed out that same gate a beggar.
 
 TANCREDI. 19 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 "I love everything that's old. Old friends, old times, old 
 manners, old wine." 
 
 JAEL lay for weeks at the Old Mill waiting for his 
 wounds to heal. 
 
 The Old Mill stood on the river bank, and was 
 driven by the current of the creek which flowed into 
 the larger stream at that point. 
 
 The old mill ! Not solely the appellation of age, 
 not the measure of time, but the title of endearment, 
 of wonder and sympathy ; the name we bestow on 
 familiar objects where romance steps in to invest them 
 with sentiment, and breathe into them the spirit of 
 poesy. 
 
 We call a familiar friend our old friend ; the natal 
 spot our old home; the years that have flown the 
 olden time, and the mill from whence we brought the 
 grist, the old mill. 
 
 The old mill stood like a huge cornucopia empty- 
 ing its plenty into the lap of the smiling valley. Its 
 ponderous driving wheel, creaking and groaning as it 
 turned with the rush of waters, was more wonderful
 
 20 TANCREDI. 
 
 and less fickle than the wheel of Fortuna. The 
 crunching stones of flint and granite turned out flakes 
 as soft and white as the new fallen snow. It ^vas 
 Titan battling against famine. 
 
 Society lost one of its household deities when the 
 old mill was dismantled. No more trips on old 
 " Fly," with a bushel of corn in one end of the bag 
 and Btone ballast in the other. No more we watch 
 with distrust the miller paying his toll, never again 
 shall we see the warm stream of yellow meal pouring 
 from the trembling hopper. These incidents are 
 numbered with the lost arts. And the Indian pudding 
 our mother's were won't to make, it, too, is gone with 
 the mill that ground the golden grain. 
 
 The miller himself was a conspicuous character in 
 those days of the olden times. 
 
 The miller who drew the floodgate and tolled the 
 grists at the old mill was named Nate Jackman. He 
 was about sixty, was hale and hearty, with the rose- 
 tinted skin flushing through the coating of flour dust, 
 like the bloom of the peach glowing through its 
 down. 
 
 Nate was attached to the old mill, from which he 
 had not been absent a day since he had followed his 
 wife to her last resting place ten years agone. His 
 cottage stood in the mill yard, and was presided over 
 by his daughter and only child, Miss Prudence, now a
 
 TANCREDI. 21 
 
 trim and tidy woman of live and twenty. Kate had 
 never been blessed with other children, but had 
 adopted Jarl when he was only three years old. 
 Accordingly Jarl had been the miller's boy for twelve 
 years. 
 
 Jarl was the mystery of the neighborhood ; but 
 the miller loved the boy with all that corner of the 
 heart left empty when there is no boy to till it. 
 
 Mrs. Jackman loved and petted him for the two 
 years preceding her death, and Prudence loved him 
 fondly and devotedly. The public, as we have seen, 
 held him at arms length as they would a gypsy out- 
 law. 
 
 Who was Jarl ? 
 
 This question puzzled the curious neighbors until 
 the unsolved problem became as painfully mysterious 
 as the enigma of the Sphynx, or the Man with the 
 Iron Mask.
 
 TANCKEDI. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 "A millstone and the human heart, 
 
 Are ever driven round, 
 If they have nothing else to grind, 
 They must themselves be ground." 
 
 IT was one of those days peculiar to October in 
 North America. The lack-lustre sun glimmered low 
 in the smoky sky, and sluggishly swung round the 
 horizon all day long. As it sank towards its nebulous 
 couch, aweary with its ineffectual effort to dispel the 
 murky atmosphere, and willing to draw the curtain of 
 night over the melancholy desolation, brooding over 
 bronzed fields and seared leaves, a woman leading a 
 child, entered the miller's gate and sat on the porch 
 steps evidently well nigh exhausted. 
 
 Mrs. Jackman who saw the approach of the 
 strangers, went out and invited the forlorn creature to 
 enter the house. 
 
 " No, no, no 1 Michele says I must go away," she 
 replied in a sad voice and foreign accent. " But once 
 more to hear him sing, I must just once more." 
 
 "Why, good woman, the child's asleep, see! 
 Besides he's only a babe, and cannot sing ; come in,
 
 TANCREDI. 23 
 
 come in, poor soul, do?" said the matron sooth- 
 ingly. 
 
 " But I tell you he's going away far away to 
 Italy far away ; and him to behold I never shall 
 again." 
 
 The miller's wife now saw that the stranger was 
 not quite right in her head, and her sympathy for the 
 wretched being was made keener thereby. 
 
 The scene was one of pensive beauty as it was of 
 touching interest. It was a rare picture, felt perhaps 
 by inspiration, but never seen on canvas ; a picture 
 where joy and beauty blended with misery and dis- 
 tress, and where nature complemented human sadness 
 with its spirit of melancholy. Imagination, glowing 
 as it maybe, will not quite invent that grouping on 
 the miller's porch. The grassy yard was strewn with 
 the faded leaves of autumn ; in the distance the dim 
 hills lost their bold outlines in the commingling dim- 
 ness of sky, while the brazen sun paled in the smoke 
 of the Indian summer. In the foreground sat the 
 strange woman with the sleeping child on her lap, 
 while the tidy housewife bent over them with pity 
 and solicitude. 
 
 The bared limbs of the child were of the most 
 beautiful proportions, while the skin was so dark as to 
 evince that it was a stranger to the clime as it was to 
 the neighborhood. The complexion of the woman
 
 Si TANCREDI. 
 
 was darker still. She was young and still beautiful, 
 despite the haggard despair which settled on form and 
 feature. Her form was slight though elegant, and 
 clad in what had evidently been rich material ; but her 
 dress was stained and disordered as if from travel and 
 exposure. Her face was startling in its expression, 
 every lineament of which betokened lurking passion 
 and despair. The weird black eyes looked the agony 
 and insanity to which her speech gave utterance. 
 
 Her behavior was sad and subdued, rather than 
 violent, and she seemed to invite pity and protection 
 by her gentle demeanor. Her forlorn condition 
 would have melted hearts more obdurate than Mrs. 
 Jackman's, who tenderly took the child in her arms 
 and led the pliant mad- woman into the house. 
 
 The hostess plied her guest with many questions, 
 to some of which she gave rational answers ; but all 
 inquiries relating to her home, or friends, or name, 
 were evaded or responded to irrelevantly. 
 
 The resemblance which existed between her and 
 the child was alluded to, but she persistently denied 
 being its mother, while Mrs. Jackman as persistently 
 held to the belief that she was caring for a mother 
 and her child. 
 
 She talked much of music and the opera, all of 
 which was the vagaries of insanity to the simple 
 miller's family. She sometimes addressed a familiar
 
 TANCREDI. 25 
 
 friend in a strange tongue, or sang songs in the same 
 unknown language. 
 
 Her attachment to the child was something won- 
 derful as it was pathetic, and confirmed the wife in 
 the belief that the woman was really the child's 
 mother. She would hold him to her breast and caress 
 him in the most affectionate manner, call him the 
 most endearing names, or sing him to sleep, when she 
 would hold him for hours, careful not to awake him. 
 She called him Carl, which, with the accent she gave 
 it, sounded like Jarl to the family, the name they 
 bestowed on him. 
 
 On the first night of her stay at the cottage she 
 persisted in taking the child from the soft white bed 
 where it slept, and holding it in her arms ; but when 
 Mrs. Jackman protested by replacing the lad in bed, 
 she would stand over him rocking herself to and fro, 
 talking to him in a coaxing, cooing voice, or singing to 
 him in a low, soothing strain. Mrs. Jackman was so 
 moved at the sight that she pushed the demented 
 woman into the rocking chair and placed the child in 
 her lap, which employment completely satisfied the 
 poor creature. 
 
 But she did not sleep. Days and nights went 
 round, but she ate none nor closed her eyes in slum- 
 ber. She drank almost constantly large quantities of 
 water, as if for an unquenchable thirst. When asked
 
 2C TANC'REDI. 
 
 if she felt ill she would shake her head and place her 
 hand over her heart. 
 
 A crisis of some kind was evidently drawing n'gh. 
 One morning, after a more than usually restless night, 
 she suddenly fell in a violent fit, when the physician 
 was sent for. She was placed in her bed and remedies 
 supplied her, but she refused to swallow anything but 
 water. She never rose from that bed. 
 
 She sang no more ; her speech was affected by the 
 fit, but her concern for the child abated not. She 
 noticed no one but it, and was only satisfied when the 
 little fellow was resting by her side. He seemed best 
 pleased to be there, and, though imagination may 
 have unduly worked on the wife's feelings, yet she said 
 the child seemed to know that its friend was about to 
 leave it forever. 
 
 The little thing would prattle to her in its caress- 
 ing way, play with her dark tresses, or fall asleep with 
 its dimpled arms around her neck, when she would lie 
 still as death, lest she might disturb its slumber. The 
 terrible, despairing black eyes were ever on the 
 watch ; no sleep, no rest came to the lorn worn woman. 
 
 Her weakness increased day by day until another 
 epileptic convulsion siezed her and left her unconscious, 
 breathing hard and fast, harder and faster, until even 
 that organic function ceased, when she lay calm and 
 still with her cold face turned toward the stars. Two
 
 1A.NCREDI. 27 
 
 staring eyes gazed away off into the great beyond, 
 where the parting soul fled from passion, disease and 
 sorrow. 
 
 The body was laid away under the tangled elder 
 bushes of the lonely country graveyard. Jarl, the 
 disconsolate, raved as if it, too, were struck with rnad- 
 ncss when they carried away the body of its friend. 
 
 The Father of the orphan saw the exile sparrow fall- 
 ing, falling, and he inclined the hearts of the miller's 
 family toward the homeless waif. Basking in the 
 sunshine of their affection the child soon forgot the 
 shadows and ceased to mourn for its lost companion. 
 
 Among the few effects left by the dead woman 
 there was little which gave promise of clearing up the 
 mystery, and nothing that would lead to the discovery 
 of the boy's name or parentage. Three miniatures 
 were found, one on the body of the woman. It was 
 the portrait of a very distinguished looking man ; on 
 its back was the single written word " Mickele." A. 
 locket suspended around the boy's neck contained two 
 miniatures ; one of these was the portrait of the same 
 man as seen in the single miniature ; the other was the 
 likeness of a woman, but so defaced, apparently 
 designedly, as to be almost undecipherable. These, 
 and what few other effects that might lead to indentifi- 
 cation, were taken charge of by the Jackmans and 
 carefully preserved.
 
 38 TANCREDI. 
 
 And this was all that was known of the name, 
 family, or nativity of Jarl, the MiMer's Boy. 
 
 From the time when the woman and child were 
 given refuge at the cottage the neighbors took a lively 
 interest in what they deemed should be the proper dis- 
 posal of the vagrants. Wives and widows, matrons 
 and maids, and females of all grades, many of whom 
 had never before visited Mrs. Jackman, or were even 
 unknown to her, now honored her with calls, and with 
 advice, too, prompted by their sense of Christian duty 
 toward their neighbor and their neighbor's charge. 
 
 Out of respect for the consciences of these duty 
 hunters, deluded though they were by a false scent, 
 this history will not suggest motives far from com- 
 mendable. It is true that in their conduct there lurks 
 a suspicion of Phariseeism, moral demagogry, arid pru- 
 rient curiosity, but at present these people shall, un- 
 questioned and unmolested, indulge in their similation 
 of philanthrophy, regardless of motives or results. 
 There is no other way left. It must be taken for 
 granted that their intentions were praise wort hv, 
 viewed at least as they viewed them. 
 
 And they believed themselves sincere, and in so 
 fur were sincere. They desired to reward virtue, 
 comfort the afflicted, relieve the oppressed, and feed 
 and clothe the impoverished. This was the still
 
 TANCREDI. 29 
 
 small voice of their minimum faith their everyday 
 religion 
 
 But they possessed a heroic faith wherein the 
 louder voices of wrath and vengeance outthundered 
 the small voice of common duty and shook the moral 
 Sinai on which they rested. It was the loud thunder 
 of Retribution the decree of death to the sinner. 
 
 By that heroic fiat the woman and child were 
 doomed. She was the scarlet woman, bereft of her 
 reason as the penalty, and Jarl the child of sin, with 
 the rod of wrath in pickle for him. Hence respecta- 
 bility gathered up its undefiled robes and moved out of 
 their contaminating influences. 
 
 The unanimous opinion, voiced like hounds in full 
 cry, was that the vagrants should be sent away. 
 
 Where ? 
 
 To the poor house. 
 
 The woman is too ill to be removed ; besides we 
 are willing to take care of her. 
 
 But she is a wicked woman. 
 
 Poor soul ! she is crazy. If she is bad it is not 
 right to punish her now. 
 
 But the child, it is the child of sin. 
 
 We know not; we will not turn it away. 
 
 The sparrow fell not to the ground. 
 
 The miller gave the body of the maniac a decent
 
 80 TANCREDI 
 
 burial; the millers wife made soft raiment for the 
 sparrow; the miller's family, in spite of the jeers and 
 protests of their pious and indignant neighbors, found 
 themselves as strongly attached to Jarl as if he were 
 of their own flesh and blood.
 
 TANCREDI. 31 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 "Feared, shunned, belied, ere youth had lost its force, 
 
 He hated men too much to feel remorse, 
 And thought the voice of wrath a sacred call 
 To pay the injuries of some on all." 
 
 RELLIM'S watch-dog fell at the hands of the assassin. 
 It was the first industrial act by Jarl on the recovery 
 of his wounded arm. 
 
 Don' t ask how he did it ; the ways of the young 
 Spartan were dark and full of wickedness. 
 
 A trait peculiar to boyhood is the inclination and 
 the ability to circumvent dogs. Jarl possessed this 
 trait in an eminent degree. The mastiff passed away 
 peacefully in the solemn midnight hour, or if he died 
 with a howl in his throat it attracted no attention, for 
 howling is expected at that witching hour. The 
 untimely taking-off of the canine caused no commo- 
 tion ; Belli m made no complaint he took it as a 
 matter of course, and Jarl made no boast of the 
 canicide. 
 
 There was one other account squared about this 
 time, by whom it was not generally known, but con- 
 jecture pointed strongly to Jarl. Caspar Liftal had
 
 33 TANCREDI. 
 
 either been badly kicked by a mule about the face, or 
 lie had received a terrible threshing from some angry 
 antagonist. He lingered about his father's cot until 
 the black marks ran through the colors of blue, green, 
 yellow, and back to the normal hue of his freckled 
 skin. Caspar was as still-tongued as Rellim. 
 
 The Miller's Boy's creed was Lex talionis. He 
 squared the accounts with everyone who injured him ; 
 and when the dog fell dead at his feet he considered 
 the covenant filled as far as Rellim was concerned. 
 In the same way he balanced books with Caspar and 
 burnt them. With Jarl that was the final settlement, 
 unless they chose to re-open business with him. 
 
 The unfortunate lad had abundant opportunities to 
 practice his creed of vengeance. Lex talionis, as a 
 creed, is a cumulative industry ; vengeance travels 
 further than mercy, and revenge spreads wider than 
 forgiveness. The remark is of this world and the 
 people in it. 
 
 Many were the inexcusable insults, and numerous 
 the flagrant outrages, perpetrated on this lonely child ; 
 and, although it doubtless is a tarnish on our hero's 
 character, yet it must be plainly stated that he gener- 
 ally squared accounts with his persecutors the day 
 before or day after the time set apart by him for that 
 purpose. Whom shall I strike to-day ? was the first 
 question he asked himself on rising every morning.
 
 TANCREDI. 83 
 
 111 tin's way and because of this way the defiant 
 youth fought back at his neighbors ; and thus it came 
 that, what at first was an uncharitable and unjust 
 prejudice toward him on account of his questionable 
 antecedents, was now become a deadly hatred of him 
 on his own account. 
 
 Love a person without knowing why you should 
 love him and you will soon have strong reasons for 
 loving him. Hate him unreasonably and you will 
 soon have solid reasons for hating him. 
 
 At the beginning the neighbors disliked Jarl under 
 the pretext that he was the son of a gypsy strumpet ; 
 but now they hated him for the added reason that he 
 was violent, dangerous and wicked. 
 
 Had they reversed their opinion and treatment would 
 he have been the reverse of what he was? Ho was 
 violent, dangerous, and wicked who was to blame, 
 nature or prejudice, Jarl or society? 
 
 Society often acts on the presumption that secrecy 
 and mystery must necessarily he associated with wicked- 
 ness, especially when a woman is in the case. There 
 was secrecy and mystery connected with Jaii's case, 
 and a woman was involved. Society had the right to 
 know the whole story, and the reason it did not know 
 was because the story was not fit to be told. It was 
 must be wicked, wickedness must be punished, and if 
 the woman had lived she would have felt the ven-
 
 84 TANCRED1. 
 
 gcance of clean skirted zealots, while the child would 
 probably have been pitied and petted. But the woman 
 had gone beyond the reach of the shafts of orthodoxy, 
 and the next best thing was to impound the vicarious 
 little foundling in the social purgatory to purge away 
 the shame of his disgraced mother. 
 
 When the child first felt the punishment of his 
 neighbors he could scarcely realize what it meant. 
 The unsophisticated little fellow in vain sought enjoy- 
 ment in the company of children about him. He was 
 the bound boy at the husking always crowded into a 
 back seat. It was touching to witness his ingenuous 
 devices by which he strove to ingratiate himself into 
 the good graces of the children about him. 
 
 " Your mother was a gypsy," " Your mother was 
 a beggar," " We are not to play with you," were the 
 constant cries of the trained children of these Christian 
 people. 
 
 He would stand among them with the dazed feel- 
 ing that he was not of them and stare with longing 
 wonder at the barrier which isolated him from the 
 joys of childhood. He saw other children happy, 
 revelling in sport and merry-making, and surrounded 
 with the tinselled community of playthings ; there 
 were none for him. He was not permitted to touch 
 their toys, or contribute his own to the general stock. 
 Other boys were caressed and praised ; there was none
 
 TANCREDI. 35 
 
 for him. The lone child turned away and crept back 
 to the miller's cottage, where he murmured his heart- 
 burning to the loved ones there, who took him in their 
 arms and wept over his distress. 
 
 He bore the social ostracism for a long time bore 
 it until the instinct of pride taught him that he was a 
 conventional target at which prudery shot its enven- 
 omed arrows, when he began to avoid his neighbors 
 and no longer, never again, sought recognition among 
 the children who should have been his playfellows. 
 
 He was naturally kind, light-hearted, and compan- 
 ionable, but the treatment he got repressed his affabil- 
 ity and froze up the geniality of his disposition. He 
 saw life in false colors, he felt life that was morbid, 
 and if he was to judge humanity by what he saw and 
 felt, how was it possible for him to be other than he 
 was violent, dangerous and wicked ? 
 
 Jarl is not a hypothetical creature given to establish 
 the doctrine of self-immolation, wherein the second 
 cheek is turned to be smitten. No other boy ever did 
 that, unless he was a coward, and for the sake of man- 
 hood's promise it is to be hoped no other boy ever will 
 consent to receive the second blow. Jarl is too worthy 
 to be immolated on the altar of an unnatural philosophy ; 
 no, not even to point a moral or adorn a tale. On the 
 contrary our hero shall obey the stronger promptings 
 of instinct, which makes self protection more imperative
 
 80 TANG REDT. 
 
 as it is manlier that the stoicism of self-martyrdom. 
 Jarl turned on society and fought it back blow for 
 blow. 
 
 He went over the fields and among the quiet lanes 
 singing like a lark, and the power and beauty of his 
 voice were wonderful. The cottage and the mill rang 
 with the glad songs of this light-hearted boy, and what- 
 ever the world may have been to him, or he to the 
 world, he was always sure of welcome, and tenderness, 
 and love in the simple miller's family ; and wild and 
 wicked as were many of his acts away from home he 
 never was guilty of one cross word or vicious act in or 
 about his home. Ho possessed a dual nature and with 
 it two lives one for home, the other for the world out- 
 side ; the former life was Love, the latter Hate. 
 
 It would be cheerless as erroneous to believe that 
 Jarl was an Ishmael with his hand against everybody, 
 and everybody against him. It was true he had no 
 bosom friend outside home, true he met no companion 
 when he went abroad, and he had no kindness shown 
 him anywhere away from the mill ; but he went among 
 the people, nevertheless, although it was with hate and 
 distrust. He did the miller's shopping, collected his 
 bills, and ably executed his general outside business. 
 This led to acquaintances among the people of the city, 
 where he was treated with that respect accorded a 
 person in any honest business pursuit. But the fact
 
 TANCRED1. 37 
 
 remains that his life had little social pleasure, and 
 many, very many, things were said and done to him 
 which are to be deplored arid which confirmed and 
 intensified his hate and distrust. 
 
 He attended the district school in winter, where 
 he showed a remarkable aptitu.de for acquiring knowl- 
 edge, but which was hindered by what his teachers 
 were pleased to call his insubordination. The real 
 drawback was his spirit at resisting tyranny. If there 
 was a fight or a fracas of any kind, Jarl was almost sure 
 to be involved or dragged in, in some way, and, if no 
 one else, Jarl was sure to get thrashed. He was held 
 to be, and probably was bad the worst boy in school. 
 More than once he had been sent home in disgrace. 
 But there was no let up with Jarl ; he suffered but he 
 made others suffer. In those days no one wronged 
 him without feeling the day of reckoning. 
 
 On one occasion he exasperated the teacher to 
 such pitch that, after receiving a severe flogging, he 
 was expelled from the school as an incorrigible. He 
 scarcely winced under the rod, and begged for no 
 mercy he never would cry at hurt from human 
 hands but when the master ordered his expulsion, he 
 begged to be spared that disgrace. 
 
 "I ask to stay,'' he cried, " not for my sake, but 
 for the sake of my foster father and sister." 
 
 The teacher was unrelenting, and Jarl went. As
 
 38 TANCREDI. 
 
 ho crossed the threshold ho turned with anger and 
 defiance in his face, shook his fist at the pedagogue 
 and departed. 
 
 Little more was thought of the affair until the 
 next morning when the master and pupils found the 
 schoolhouso door and windows securely barred from 
 the inside. Somebody spoke of breaking down the 
 door, when Jarl's voice was heard inside. 
 
 " The first head poked in here will be broken." 
 
 The tone carried conviction with it, the door 
 was not broken down. But something had to be done. 
 They tried threats, the garrison was not frightened 
 thereat. Entreaty was tried, the fortress would not 
 yield. Finally the teacher asked Jarl to name his 
 terms of capitulation. 
 
 "I want to come back to school. You may 
 thrash me for this, but I want to come back to 
 school." 
 
 The assaulting party accepted the terms, when the 
 gate was thrown open and they took possession. 
 
 The teacher did not keep faith, however, but pros- 
 ecuted Jarl for disturbing the public peace. 
 
 The trial never came off. The teacher did not 
 appear against him, and every one else was afraid to 
 prosecute. By some process, known only to Jarl, the 
 teacher himself was brought into disgrace, and sought 
 elsewhere a school less difficult to manage.
 
 TAJNCHEDI. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 " Pauline, by pride, Angels have fallen ere thy time." 
 
 THE Daval family was one of tbe wealthiest and 
 most respected in the county. William Duval, 
 Charlotte's father, was a gentleman of refinement and 
 leisure, living retired on his beautiful farm, after hav- 
 ing acquired a fortune in business. The remainder of 
 his days was appointed to ease and enjoyment. 
 
 The Rellims lived just across the creek opposite 
 the Duvals, and the families were neighborly, if not 
 intimate. 
 
 William Duval was quiet and unobtrusive in man- 
 ners, without, however, having the stupidity which 
 too often makes silent men contemptible. He held in 
 reserve a vast contingency of pluck and independence 
 which burst forth when occasion demanded. He was 
 very domestic in taste and habit, and was particularly 
 attached to his daughter, Charlotte. 
 
 Mrs. Duval was the extreme opposite to her hus- 
 band in temperament, taste and culture. She differed 
 most from him in her exquisite aristocratic opinions 
 and aspirations. She assumed, what she held to be,
 
 40 TANCKEDI. 
 
 aristocratic ways, classed herself an aristocrat a title 
 by brevet, since she herself had been promoted by 
 marriage from a country school-teacher, where elie 
 struggled for a subsistence and an extra holiday dress, 
 to that of the mistress of the Dnval household. She 
 was fond of display, in which penchant her husband 
 indulged her to the top of her bent. She played 
 court to great people, or to people whom she held to 
 be great, to which pastime her lord found no fault so 
 long as it did not interfere with his comfort. Indeed 
 he was a model husband for an aspiring wife, at least 
 so far as apathetic indulgence in her innocent vanities. 
 The only time he ever crossed her was when she said 
 that Charlotte was too good to mingle with the chil- 
 dren of the neighborhood, or, rather, that there was 
 no society in the community good enough for her 
 daughter. The husband restrained that bit of snob- 
 bery in the most peremptory manner. 
 
 " Never repeat such a sentiment," he said to her. 
 "The only standard by which we shall choose compan- 
 ions for our daughter must be respectability." 
 
 She repressed her nobility rage, but the venom of 
 pride turned inward, and poisoned her with disgust 
 and disquiet at, what she conceived to be, her hus- 
 band's dangerous social principles. She saw only evil 
 to conic from the low-born associations which sur- 
 rounded her daughter ; but she held her peace.
 
 TANCRED1. 41 
 
 When Charlotte unexpectedly returned home from 
 Rellim's party, and from which she had so unceremo- 
 niously withdrawn, Mrs. Duval saw at once that some- 
 thing unusual and unpleasant had disturbed her 
 daughter. 
 
 " What is the matter, iny dear ?" asked the 
 mother. " Surely the party is not over ; it is not mid- 
 day." 
 
 "No, mamma, the party is not over ; but I could 
 not stay there after what I saw," answered Charlotte, 
 as if she would be best pleased to cry. 
 
 " Why, my child, what did you see there that 
 troubles you so much ?" 
 
 Charlotte then related to her mother the scene 
 with Jarl, and with which the reader is already famil- 
 iar. 
 
 Mrs. Duval was prejudiced strongly prejudiced, 
 against the miller's boy, and the daughter, conse- 
 quently, brought her grievance before an unsympathiz- 
 ing audience. For her tale she got a scolding, and for 
 her tears she got sneers, all of which intensified the 
 ache at her heart, and she broke down in a paroxysm 
 of weeping. 
 
 The mother, remembering the husband's admoni- 
 tion, bridled her tongue on the occasion, and no fur- 
 ther talk was had between herself and daughter on the 
 subject.
 
 42 TANCHEDI. 
 
 On the following day a neighbor woman called on 
 Mrs. Dnval, and, after the local weather, came the 
 local scandal. 
 
 " What do you think, Mrs. Dnval ? That young 
 scamp, Jarl, the Miller's Boy, broke up the party at 
 Rellim's, yesterday ! Yes ! He got into a fight with 
 the gardener who caught him stealing flowers on the 
 front lawn, and the dog bit him. Yes !" 
 
 " The young vagabond !" added Mrs. Duval, 
 encouragingly. 
 
 " Yes ! And what's worse, your daughter Char- 
 lotte took his part ! Yes ! And what's worse yet, she 
 tied his arm up in her scarf ! Yes !" 
 
 " You don't tell me that my daughter was seen 
 talking to that low-born trash ! Dreadful !" 
 
 " Yes ! And what's worst yet, she gave him her 
 scarf to keep ! to keep for good ! Yes ! What do you 
 think !" 
 
 " Oh, mercy ! Gave him her scarf ! That scarf 
 with the heart and anchor ! The scarf her aunt gave 
 her as a birthday present ! Scandalous ! Now what'll 
 her father say ?" 
 
 When Mr. Duval came home the wife poured into 
 his ear her effervescing mind. 
 
 " William, you have always disapproved of my 
 efforts to keep Lotta away from low company. I
 
 TAXCREDL 43 
 
 trust you will now see that I was right, and that your 
 social theory is wrong." 
 
 " Why, wife, what is the matter now ?" 
 
 "Matter, you ask? Why, haven't you heard of 
 the scandal Lotta has got herself into?" 
 
 " I have not ; nothing serious, I pray ? But tell 
 me what it is." 
 
 " Why, the whole country is talking of her and. 
 Jarl, the Miller's Boy. That low beggar ! Such car- 
 ryings on I never heard of before ! It's perfectly 
 disgraceful !" 
 
 " What's perfectly disgraceful ? My dear, you 
 don't tell me what the scandal is." 
 
 " Oh, it's awful ! Taking that bad boy's part ; the 
 low-born scamp !" 
 
 " Who's taking his part ?" 
 
 " Why, our Lotta, to be sure !" 
 
 ' ' Is that all ? Is that the scandal ?" 
 
 " Is that all ! As if that wasn't enough ! No, 
 that's not all. She gave him her scarf to keep ! The 
 one her aunt, your sister, gave her." 
 
 Duval then he.ird related with his wife's peculiar 
 coloring and hyperbole the account of the accident 
 which befel Jarl, and the part which Charlotte took 
 therein. 
 
 He said nothing by way of approval or disapproval 
 at the time, but managed to secure his daughter for a
 
 44 TANCREDI. 
 
 walk in the seclusion of the garden, where he adroitly 
 led her to talk of the affair. The tale as it fell from 
 her lips sounded altogether like a different story from 
 the one told by his wife. 
 
 The reader must already see that Duval was not 
 hasty or violent ; and yet he was a man of strong feel- 
 ing, positive convictions, and great steadfastness. He 
 was sometimes slow at coming to a conclusion, but 
 when he did, his whole soul was in the verdict. Jarl 
 had never crossed his path, he had not seen the boy. 
 With his characteristic fashion of not meddling with 
 other people's affairs, he held no convictions in regard 
 to the social status of that youth. If ho did hold any 
 opinion in the case it was very crude, and probably 
 tinctured somewhat by the general repute in which 
 the boy was held by those who assumed -to know all 
 about him. But he had formed no opinion that would 
 stand as a judgment in regard to Jarl, because he 
 never had had occasion or opportunity to form an 
 opinion. Very likely had he been asked for an 
 expression of his opinion he would have said the bov's 
 reputation is bad. 
 
 But now that the lad was thrown in his way, Duval 
 was not the man to condemn him on the opinion bor- 
 rowed of his neighbors. The opinion of the neighbors 
 was that Jarl was thoroughly bad ; but they might be 
 mistaken in this. The lad had never molested him :
 
 TANCREDI. 45 
 
 he liad not experienced his reputed wickedness, and lie 
 was much the same to him as any other boy. 
 
 In the light of all this he could not find it in his 
 heart to chide his daughter for having shown a kind- 
 ness to the Miller's Boy. Indeed her opinion in the 
 case weighed more with him than the sum total of 
 public opinion, plus that of his wife, and. in itself, was 
 prima facie evidence to partially vindicate the boy's 
 traduced character. Charlotte's pity led captive her 
 father's prejudice if he had any. 
 
 "And you did give him your beautiful scarf, my 
 dear?" he quietly asked, after she had told him all. 
 
 "Yes, I did, father. Did I do right, do you 
 think?" 
 
 " I suspect that it was wrong, but we shall see. 
 Your mother thinks it was wrong. And yet I don't 
 see why it should be very wrong. You meant it to be 
 right, and your act was right in motive. Besides it is 
 always right to treat kindly the oppressed and unfor- 
 tunate. But I don't understand why you gave him 
 your scarf to keep. His wounds would not heal 
 quicker, nor would the arm feel more comfortable by 
 making him a present of the scarf. It would have 
 been just as kind if you had loaned it to him." 
 
 There was a merry twinkle in the father's eye as he 
 ran on in this way about the scarf. Charlotte herself 
 seemed to feel that she could offer no plausible explan-
 
 46 TANCREDI. 
 
 ation to the last remarks of her father, for she hung 
 her head in silence. 
 
 "It is scarcely aruartiele for a boy's dress," contin- 
 ued Dnval, bent on teasing Charlotte into some kind 
 of an explanation. " Did he ask you for it ?" 
 
 " No, father ; I gave it to him because they made 
 me angry, and because they they called him beg- 
 gar." 
 
 She leaned sobbing on her father's hands reached 
 out to comfort and shield her. He raised up her tear- 
 dimmed face and kissed her tenderly. Tears stood in 
 his own eyes. 
 
 The two companions walked into the house hold- 
 ing each other by the hand, and quietly took their 
 places at the tea-table. The mother saw by the action 
 of the amicable pair that the daughter had won the 
 father over to her way of thinking, and that he was 
 disposed to make light of the affair. But she was 
 determined that he should not make light of the 
 affair. 
 
 " I suppose, husband, that you quite agree with 
 Lotta and believe that her actions yesterday were com- 
 mendable ?" said she in a voice quavering with sub- 
 dued anger. 
 
 " We quite agree, my dear," replied the husband 
 in his quiet manner.
 
 TANCRED1. 47 
 
 "You bad bettor invite Jarl to tbe bouse," said 
 tbe ironical woman. 
 
 " We'll think of it," was tbe reply of tbe imper- 
 tnrbed man. 
 
 " William Duval, you'll ruin your cbild if you con- 
 tinue to allow ber to associate witb all tbe low people 
 of tbe neighborhood." 
 
 Tbe usually pleasant table chat was visibly affected 
 by these cross purposes, and the family did not eat 
 with their accustomed hearty relish. The wife occa- 
 sionally came back at her husband with dissent at what 
 was to her mind his dangerous social democracy. 
 But he would not be provoked into a serious discus- 
 sion of the subject, and by sufferance allowed the Avife 
 to have it all her own way, which should have made 
 her a happy woman, but which same she was not. 
 
 At breakfast next morning she returned to the 
 charge with more fervor than ever, determined that, if 
 she could not convince her husband of his error, she 
 would at least wash her hands of all complicity in a 
 course of conduct which she felt sure would terminate 
 calamitously to her child. The quiet man ate his break- 
 fast without saying much on any subject and nothing 
 on his wife's subject. He looked up now and then at 
 Charlotte, smiling on her and apparently paying little 
 heed to his wife's railing. 
 
 " I'm determined that tbe beggar's brat shall restore
 
 48 TAJMC'REDL 
 
 that scarf this very day !" exclaimed the scorned woman, 
 as her husband arose from the table. 
 
 He stood leaning on the back of Charlotte's chair, 
 and looked at his wife with a serious smile on his pas- 
 sive face. 
 
 " I mean what I say, William Duval. That bold, 
 low-bred boy shall not parade that scarf around the 
 country as the keepsake from my daughter. I shall 
 demand it of him this very day." 
 
 " My dear wife, you shall do nothing of the sort. 
 I'll settle this affair myself, since it troubles you so 
 greatly, and I don't want the subject discussed until I 
 open it. Come, Lotta, get your hat ; you and I will 
 visit the old mill." 
 
 Duval and his daughter were on their way across 
 the iields, talking and laughing as they went. 
 
 He was disposed, or had been disposed, to treat the 
 affair with indifference, but the persistent complaining 
 of his wife aroused a desire and a prejudice in his 
 favor. His wife's railings, no less than his daughter's 
 sympathy, had won him over tp the side of com- 
 passion. 
 
 It does not argue well for the domestic dignity of 
 the Duvals, yet it is true that the head of that family 
 held the opinion of his child on the case higher than 
 that of his wife. The latter was not a short-sighted 
 woman, she was not stony-hearted, nor was she habitu-
 
 TA.NCREDI. 49 
 
 ally given to holding dissenting opinions from her 
 husband. She had few faults of judgment or discre- 
 tion, and tin's, her aristocrat conceit, was her most 
 serious fault. He had great respect for her opinions 
 on other matters, but in the present case she was too 
 highly tinctured with romance, so he thought, to 
 render an unbiased opinion. And yet she might be 
 right. That was what he was determined to learn. 
 
 It was fortunate for Jarl that Duval was a thorough 
 man of the world, who had, himself, come up from 
 the plane of youthful folly. He remembered well 
 what it was to be reckoned a bad boy, or he had felt 
 the sting of that reputation. In his experience the 
 "good" boys grew into stupid, negative men; while 
 'bad" boys cropped out into prominent, influential 
 and worthy citizens. He could not be acquainted 
 with all the circumstances of Jarl's life, but he knew 
 in a general way how easy, nay how common it is, 
 to misjudge and misrepresent a spirited youth sowing 
 his wild oats. His own views were strangely seconded 
 by his pure daughter in her sympathy for Jarl. Thus 
 folly and purity blended, and inclined him to give Jarl 
 a fair show. 
 
 Arrived at the cottage they were coldly invited by 
 Prudence Jackman to enter the cozy sitting-room. 
 Duval asked for Nate, the miller, who was summoned
 
 50 TANCREDI. 
 
 from tlie mill, and who came iiito the room making 
 excuses for his dusty garments. 
 
 " I came to see about Jarl," said Duval, in hia 
 brusque manner. 
 
 The old man sighed and shook his head, while 
 Prudence turned pale. Never in all those years had 
 a single person called to inquire about Jar], unless it 
 was to find fault, or charge him with some villainy. 
 And now, they thought, Mr. Duval was there to brand 
 him with some fresh infamy. 
 
 "Jarl is very sick, sir," said Prudence, in a humble 
 beseeching voice. " He is confined to bed ; and please, 
 Sir, don't worry him to-day." 
 
 " Don't hurt him to-day," echoed Nate, in the same 
 tone of anguish. 
 
 " Rellim's dog has bit his arm, and the doctor is 
 attending to him," continued Prudence, encouraged 
 by Duval's silence. 
 
 " Yes, he's bit by Kellim's big dog. Bit on the 
 arm. Bit awful bad, too, the doctor says," added 
 Nate, as though he would apologize for the boy's ina- 
 bility to receive company. 
 
 " That's what we came to see about," said Duval, 
 bluntly. 
 
 " Oh, Sir, it wasn't his fault, indeed it wasn't hia 
 fault," exclaimed Prudence, taking it for granted that 
 everybody, including Duval, believed it was his fault.
 
 TANCREDI. 51 
 
 " People ought to be ashamed of themselves for let- 
 ting a big dog tear a boy's arm to pieces. 1 don't see 
 how they could have the heart to drive him away 
 without tying up his torn arm. But for your kind 
 daughter, God bless her ! the poor boy might have 
 bled to death on the road," she exclaimed, breaking 
 down in great painful sobs. 
 
 " Yes, he might have died, Jarl might," said Nate, 
 taking up the refrain of his daughter's discourse. 
 " Died in the road ! Died, and not a rag on his sores to 
 stop the bleedin' ! Died, poor boy !" 
 
 "What was Jarl's business at Kellim's?" asked 
 Duval. 
 
 "To <"arry a letter to Rellim, telling him to make 
 haste and get his money out of the bank, for it was 
 going to break," answered Prudence, revived some- 
 what with the hope that after all, Mr. Duval's inten- 
 tions were friendly. 
 
 " Yes ; and bekase he was obleegin' enough to 
 carry the letter, he let his big dog chaw up his arm. 
 And it's chawed up awful bad his arm's chawed up 
 till he's got the fever, the doctor says," exclaimed 
 Nate, winding up his hot charge by coughing and 
 drawing his dusty sleeve across his dusty face. 
 
 " Everybody is down on Jarl, and have been ever 
 since he came to us a wee child only three years old," 
 cried the angry Prudence. " Everybody but Char-
 
 52 TANCKEDI. 
 
 lotto," she added in a softer key, while she bestowed a 
 smile, the sweet smile of a grateful heart, on that 
 young girl. " No one ever spoke one kind word to 
 him but Charlotte in all these years. What have they 
 got against him ? I'd like to know. He'll let them 
 alone, if they'll let him alone." 
 
 " Yes ; he'll let 'ern alone, if they'll let him alone. 
 But they won't let him alone, don't you see? but they 
 abuse him every time he goes from home, abuse him 
 all the time. Who can stand it?" exclaimed Nate, 
 rising from his chair, and looking about him as though 
 he would he glad to strike some one on the head. 
 Resting his eyes on Charlotte, he changed his mind 
 about hitting heads, while the scowl faded away into 
 the most benignant expression, and he continued, " All 
 but your little gal, Jarl likes her ! We all like her, 
 God bless her ! We all like her bekase she was kind 
 to Jarl spoke kind to him, mind you, when every- 
 body else spoke cross ! God will bless her for that !" 
 
 He reached across the table to where she sat and 
 just touched the blue ribbon that dangled from her hat 
 touched it with the reverence a martyr might touch 
 the robe of an angel. 
 
 Mr. Duval sat silent and listened while the pathetic 
 story went on. He was visibly interested in their tale 
 of woe, and deeply impressed with the spirit in which 
 these humble people stood up for the outcast whom
 
 TANCREDI. 53 
 
 they fed and sheltered. He began to see the case in a 
 newer and truer light. He began to believe that his 
 child's behavior toward Jarl, so far from being repre- 
 hensible, was impelled by the worthiest and most 
 sacred of all motives pity for the weak and injured. 
 
 He drew Charlotte to his side and whispered in 
 her ear, she then went over to the miller and took him 
 by the hand in the most affectionate manner. 
 
 "We came to ask about Jarl," she said, "and to 
 help him, too, if he needs help, and you will allow us. 
 My good father feels sorry for him, as I do, and we 
 both want to be good to him." 
 
 " God bless you ! God bless the little angel !" cried 
 the old man, while the tears made mucilaginous fur- 
 rows down his befloured cheeks. He put his arms 
 around her neck arid kissed her. 
 
 Prudence began brushing the girl's clothes, but the 
 tears blinded her, and she saw only a luminous child's 
 face swimming in a halo of opal light. She covered 
 the face with kisses. Duval himself made believe 
 that something was stuck in his throat which required 
 energetic coughing to dislodge. 
 
 Sympathy and confidence placed the miller and 
 his daughter at their ease, and they spoke out unre- 
 strained by fear of unfeeling listeners. The silent 
 man let them talk while he did the thinking. Such 
 men are driving the world at this moment. When
 
 54 TANCKEDI. 
 
 Duval came to understand any subject lie was gener- 
 ally found on the right side, and actively on the right 
 side. 
 
 Jackman and Prudence poured out tale after tale 
 of wrong and injury heaped on the forsaken child, of 
 persecutions, and sneers, and slights, and blows, and 
 tyrannies that had pursued him even to the very 
 threshold of his home, until Duval the cool, mild-man- 
 nered man, actually struck his fist on the table, and 
 swore until the house shook with the former, and his 
 audience trembled at the latter. 
 
 "I'll hear no more of this, my friends, lean 
 stand to hear no more. Take me to Jar]." 
 
 Nate led the way to the wounded boy's chamber. 
 What was said there is not important to know at pres- 
 ent. When they came down stairs the father and 
 daughter shook hands with the Jackmans and started 
 for home after promising to return soon and often. 
 
 They walked along for some distance in silence; 
 Duval with his head drooped on his breast as if in 
 profound thought. 
 
 "What will mamma say now? I'm all over flour 
 dust," said Charlotte as she gave her dress a shake. 
 
 "You are not to speak to your mother a word 
 about it until I give you leave," exclaimed Duval in a 
 stern voice of command.
 
 TANCREDI. 53 
 
 "Why, father?" said Charlotte in amazement, as 
 she halted to look up in his face. 
 
 "1 mean, my dear, that I will speak to mother 
 about this affair, and she will say that you have acted 
 nobly, my darling," he said, in a gentle and sweet 
 voice. 
 
 He took her hand, and thus they sauntered home.
 
 56 TANCREDI. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 " Kind words are more than coronets, 
 And simple faith than Norman blood." 
 
 " WIFE, you have always aspired to move in an ex- 
 clusive and aristocratic circle," William Duval quietly 
 said to liis helpmate as they sat alone on the evening of 
 the day on which the visit was made to the mill. 
 
 " William, I have aspired to a position for myself 
 and family among refined people ; I should be seconded 
 by you, not ridiculed." 
 
 " Certainly, my dear, if you put it that way ; but 
 don't get refinement and aristocracy mixed up. But 
 we'll not dispute about the terms you may use. Now, 
 I have no objection to aristocracy, I mean the pure 
 genuine article, not to your indulgence in the same 
 when you come across real Simon pure aristocrats. 
 The trouble seems to be in our disagreement as to the 
 meaning of the term, aristocracy." 
 
 k< In that case the proper thing for us to do is to 
 compare notes, and, if possible, agree on what consti- 
 tutes true aristocracy. Shall we try to come to an 
 agreement by analyzing the word ?"
 
 TANCREDI. 57 
 
 "Agreed; and, as you have given the subject 
 much study have made a specialty of aristocracy, you 
 shall open the discussion," responded Duval, pleased to 
 believe that the one skeleton-in -closet was about to be 
 exorcised by the wand of philosophy. 
 
 " What is aristocracy ?" asked the puzzled woman, 
 with a rising inflection, as though she was in doubt 
 how to begin and yet was in for some kind of defini- 
 tion. She felt at once that, with all her supposed 
 familiarity with the subject, the work before her was 
 not plain or easy. 
 
 " Yes ; tell us what you know about aristocracy ; 
 that's the question before the house," said Mr. Duval, 
 droll}', as he turned his face beaming with good humor 
 toward his wife. 
 
 " It is better to be a little choice of one's society ; 
 don't you think so ?" 
 
 "Yes, yes ; that's true; I grant that. Proceed." 
 
 " Well, the Gossels are low people ; surely you 
 don't want me to associate with them !" 
 
 " Quite right. All they think of is greed, all they 
 practice is avarice. They are grovelling, ignorant 
 people. Proceed." 
 
 "Well, there are the Lunnans ; you will admit that 
 they are not fit companions for us ?" 
 
 " Right, again. They are natural born, hereditary 
 3
 
 53 TAJS T CREDI. 
 
 criminals, with a constant representation in the county 
 jail. Who else?" 
 
 " There's that low-born, wicked boy, Jarl ; Lotta is 
 too good to associate with him /" 
 
 " I am not of that opinion. However, we'll speak 
 of him presently. You have named some of those 
 whom you believe are not aristocrats ; please give me 
 a few examples from among those whom you hold to 
 be true aristocrats." 
 
 " Our nearest neighbors, the Rellims ; don't you 
 consider them distinguished people ?" 
 
 " They are distinguished, yes ; but what for ? Is 
 it on account of their wealth, and their position as 
 wealthy people ? If so, that does not make them 
 aristocrats. Imagine them etript of riches their 
 iuone\ r , lands, servants, and equipages, would they be 
 distinguished ? And, after all, that is the true test, 
 do we respect such a person for himself for his intrin- 
 sic merits, or because of his surroundings? If for the 
 latter he is no true aristocrat." 
 
 "But you are friendly with Rellim, yourself." 
 
 " True, I am ; but nevertheless my opinion of 
 Rellim is that he is a cold, exacting and selfish man, 
 void of culture or refinement. He knows nothing, 
 absolutely nothing outside of his business, and his single 
 redeeming trait is he knows his business well, and has 
 been successful in amassing wealth. As he is respect-
 
 able I tolerate him ; as he is our neighbor I treat him 
 civilly; but I have no high regard for him personally, 
 and refuse to class him an aristocrat on account of his 
 wealth or his influence. Unadorned with riches he 
 would be a very common fellow ; certainly not an aristo- 
 crat, as I understand the term. There is no native 
 genuine nobility about Rellim, and the gild of gold that 
 gives him polish will not wash. Nature's nobleman 
 and a true aristocrat are synonymous with me." 
 
 "Why, husband, I never heard you speak so dis- 
 paragingly of any one before !" 
 
 " We never held a court of inquiry into our neigh- 
 bor's character before. As the advocate of genuine 
 aristocracy I must tell the truth plainly, distasteful 
 though it may be. Besides, my dear, this is confidential 
 talk between you and me." 
 
 Mrs. Duval sighed, and went on with her needle- 
 work. Duval lit a cigar and watched the curling smoke 
 wreathe harmless cyclones about his head. Neither 
 spoke for some time. 
 
 "Well, now, William, suppose } T OU take the witness- 
 stand as an expert and tell us what you know about 
 aristocracy," she presently said, looking up from her 
 work. 
 
 " You want to know what true aristocracy is ?" 
 
 " Yes ; that's the question before the house. Pro- 
 ceed."
 
 60 TANCREDI. 
 
 " Juvenal says, ' Virtue is true nobility.' " 
 
 "But' what do you say?" 
 
 " I agree vvitli him, and with Pope, who holds ihat 
 an honest man's the noblest work of God." 
 
 "These are fine platitudes, which sound well, but 
 are threadbare with long and vulgar use, void of aristo- 
 cratic ideas, and without the pretense of argument. 
 "Why don't you come to the point, and not go about 
 begging the question ?" 
 
 "Well, then, my wife, any one whom we respect 
 for himself alone is a genuine aristocrat." 
 
 Mrs. Duval sat musing for some time. At length 
 she looked up at her husband who had been intently 
 watching her. 
 
 " What does all this discussion signify ? We are 
 as far from agreeing as before. Yon have some 
 design in it all, what is it ?" 
 
 Mr. Dnval puffed away at his cigar, which was fast 
 burning to its last ashes, but he said nothing. She 
 laid away her sewing and went over and sat on his 
 knee, where she peered wonderingly in his face. 
 
 " I know you too well to believe that you would 
 go to all this trouble without a serious object in view. 
 What is your object ?" 
 
 " To inform you that you have overlooked some 
 true, genuine aristocrats of this neighborhood," he 
 replied, throwing away the stump of his cigar.
 
 TANCKEDI. 61 
 
 " Name them, my clear. Where do they live?" 
 
 " We have a young prince in disguise, living 
 amongst us." 
 
 " You astonish me ! Who is he, where is he ?'' 
 she eagerly asked, rising from his knees and standing 
 before him. 
 
 " He lives at the old mill, and his name is Jarl." 
 
 "Jurl, the Miller's Boy! Noble! Are you in 
 earnest ?" 
 
 " Jarl, the Miller's Boy, is a true born aristocrat." 
 
 " You were at the miller's to-day ; what did you 
 discover there ?" 
 
 " I discovered that Jarl is noble ; but go to-morrow 
 and learn about him for yourself." 
 
 Duval may have spoken wiser than he knew. 
 
 lie meant to appeal to the weak side the aristo- 
 cratic side of his wife's nature ; he meant that Jarl 
 was possessed of a noble nature ; he meant to persuade 
 his wife to pay a visit to the miller's cottage. Once 
 there she would see for herself the handsome boy, 
 learn how bright lie was, and hear the tales of wrong 
 and distress as told in the eloquent words of the miller 
 and daughter. 
 
 He knew at heart his wife was a good woman, and 
 that her one vanity was the only barrier that kept 
 good out of her heart. He believed that the way to
 
 62 TANCREDI. 
 
 reach her heart was through her prejudice, and he 
 therefore appealed to her pride. 
 
 As " the gods of our pleasant vices make insa-u- 
 inents to scourge us," so may our frailties be turned 
 into leading strings to draw us back into the path of 
 duty. 
 
 Blessed is the man "who can lure his wife into the 
 ways of wisdom through the medium of her tender 
 frailties. 
 
 More blessed still the wife who inclines her hus- 
 band back to home and love by the lever of his vices. 
 
 The voice of the siren is not analogous; the 
 pigmy leading the giant is a feebler comparison ; the 
 only parallel is the legend of the guardian angel lead- 
 ing a mortal with hand unseen and force unfelt.
 
 TANCREDI. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 " A generous friendship no cold medium knows, 
 Burns with one love, with one resentment glows ; 
 One our interests and our passions be, 
 My friend must hate the man that injures rue." 
 
 O:r the day following the debute on aristocracy 
 Mrs. Duval, accompanied by Charlotte, visited the 
 miller's cottage. 
 
 Old Nate came in from the mill to pay his re- 
 spects to the great lady, for the Duvals had wonder- 
 fully risen in the esteem of the Jackmans. He sat 
 and chatted with Charlotte while Prudence took the 
 mother to the chamber where lay the wounded boy. 
 
 He was asleep when they entered. His injured 
 arm, bound up in the surgeon's dressings, lay across 
 and above his head. The bared breast, head and arm 
 could not have been more exquisitely beautiful if they 
 had been carved from marble, under the inspiration of 
 puissant genius. In physical conformation Jarl 
 deserved to be the descendant of a long line of kings. 
 He looked noble as he lay in his graceful repose. 
 
 Perhaps it was the contemplation of the superb 
 picture that most attracted the attention and aroused
 
 04 TANCKEDI. 
 
 the interest of the romantic woman. His appearance 
 impressed her V7ith the belief that her husband had 
 not jested when lie spoke of a prince in disguise. It 
 was the romance that exactly suited the turf hunter. 
 
 In this interview Mrs. Duval heard quite a differ- , 
 ent chapter in the boy's history from that told her 
 husband a day previous. Probably it was because she 
 led the conversation in a different channel, but at all 
 
 events, Mrs. D heard what, Mr. D did not, 
 
 and he had heard what she did not hear. Prudence 
 gave all the circumstances connected with the first 
 appearance of Jarl at the mill ; the mysterious lady 
 with rich dress, refined manners, remarkable beauty, 
 and who spoke a foreign language, all of which indica- 
 cated gentility, perhaps nobility, and certainly aris- 
 tocracy. The pictures of the distinguished looking 
 person, afforded the woman additional testimony, 
 establishing the theory that the boy was really the off- 
 spring of distinguished parentage. Mrs. Duval wis as 
 thoroughly convinced that Jarl, if not a prince in dis- 
 guise, was noble, as she was convinced of the identity 
 of her own daughter. 
 
 Filled to repletion with this opinion and its con- 
 comitant fancies, she had no room for the tales of 
 suffering and distress which filled the boy's life with 
 shame and sorrow. The romance monopolized her 
 entirely ; it swelled and rounded out into all the beau-
 
 TANCREDI. 65 
 
 tiful proportions of rank and splendor, and stopped 
 her ears to the vulgar plaints of misery. It is doubt- 
 ful if she ever knew, although she may have been 
 tcld, that Jarl had been wronged and abused. 
 
 " You must take good care of him, young woman," 
 she whispered to Prudence, with a patronizing air. 
 
 " Take care of him," exclaimed the astonished girl 
 under her breath. " If we don't take care of him, 
 in the name of mercy, who will ?" 
 
 " The boy has rich and powerful friends some- 
 where in the world, I feel sure, and no doubt they 
 will be found some day, when they will reward you 
 for all your trouble," whispered Mrs. Duval. 
 
 " Trouble ! Reward ! We want no reward, only 
 to keep him with us always. God bless him !" cried 
 the half indignant young woman, her eyes swimming 
 in tears. 
 
 Jarl awoke and stared in bewildered astonishment 
 at the strange lady. 
 
 " This is Mrs. Duval, Charlotte's mother. She is 
 here to see you, my dear," said Prudence going up to 
 the bedside. 
 
 He smiled and reached out his uninjured hand to 
 the l:idy, who took it and tenderly held it in her own. 
 
 " My little friend, you must make haste and get 
 well," she said, in a cheery voice. " I want to ask
 
 66 TANCREDI. 
 
 you a whole heap of questions, all about your parents 
 and your home before you came here." 
 
 Jarl thanked her, and said he would hasten his 
 recovery in every way he could. 
 
 " Can you recollect anything about your name or 
 home when you were a child ?" asked the curious 
 woman, with the air of one used to dealing with abstruse 
 problems, and who felt that a few well directed inquires 
 would clear up the mystery connected with Jarl's early 
 history. 
 
 No; he recollected nothing clearly. He had a 
 confused remembrance of a big house on a noisy street, 
 and that a large musical instrument (a piano, suggested 
 Mrs. D.) stood in that house. 
 
 " I thought so," exclaimed the lady, delighted to 
 find that the boy's memory, feeble though it was, 
 reverted to trappings of wealth and splendor. " Can't 
 you think of more ? Can't you remember an illustrious 
 father? Does not memory recall a noble mother?" 
 
 The boy shook his head. 
 
 " Or even of coaches and horses, and servants in 
 livery ?" 
 
 The head shook. 
 
 " Surely you remember of wearing beautiful gar- 
 ments ?" 
 
 No ; went the head. 
 
 " Or handsome playthings ?"
 
 TAXCREDI. 67 
 
 " Yes ; I remember of having a wheelbarrow." 
 
 The pedigree hunter looked disgusted. What at ? 
 
 Did the wheelbarrow carry Jarl toward a coalheav- 
 ing ancestry ? 
 
 If he could only recollect the familiar trappings of 
 place and pride the crowns, and diadems, and courts, 
 and pageants, it would better have tallied with Madam's 
 wish. 
 
 Having exhausted her interrogatories on the subject 
 of Jarl's infantile history the female Socrates took her 
 leave, in the main satisfied with her visit. 
 
 When Mr. Duval came home in the evening the 
 wife entered at once into a discussion of the subject 
 uppermost in her mind. 
 
 "Do you believe me, William, I think yon were 
 right about Jarl, the Miller's Boy. He may not be the 
 prince in disguise you claim, but there is something 
 away above the common about him. Mark my words, 
 he is indeed the child of illustrious parentage." 
 
 " Jarl, the low-born wicked boy ! The beggar's 
 brat ! The bad boy to whom Charlotte gave her scarf, 
 noble ? Impossible !" exclaimed Duval, in the most 
 tantalizing manner. 
 
 " Why, you said so, yourself, now !" whined the 
 wife, in a rebuking spirit. " You have a bitter memory 
 for my former opinion of the youth. It was to please 
 you I went to see him, and now, after I have learned
 
 63 TANCREDI. 
 
 to know him better, and am disposed to do him justice, 
 yon turn around and ridicule me." 
 
 " Pardon me, my dear wife, but the temptation to 
 indulge in a fling at your late opinion was too strong 
 to resist ; forgive me this time. I rejoice more than 
 you think, to know that you do him justice. It shows 
 how clear and good you can be when you get on the 
 right track. You have my warmest praise. Lotta was 
 right, you see, and that was the main point we sought 
 to establish." 
 
 " But seriously, husband, what makes you think 
 Jarl is of noble blood ?" 
 
 " I do not think he is, or is not." 
 
 " Why, you said so." 
 
 " No, my dear ; I said that he is noble. I referred 
 to the boy, not to his family. I know nothing of the 
 latter." 
 
 " Oh ; I begin to understand ; he is one of your 
 nature's noblemen, your ideal aristocrat." 
 
 "That was about my meaning." 
 
 But still Mrs. Duval had unlimited faith in the 
 high-born lineage of her new prodigy. Her interest in 
 the boy was begot by pride, that of her husband's by 
 sympathy. Jarl profited by both 
 
 Did he prove deserving ? 
 
 Jarl began life under new auspices, and with altered 
 surroundings. His feelings and his motives were
 
 TANCBEDI. GO 
 
 changed. The change was manifest to all who knew 
 him. Now thoughts, better impulses, and fresh hope 
 fired his heart with a desire for a better life. Where 
 defiance and recklessness rankled before now grew up 
 the blossoms of peace and good will. His aspirations 
 were not embittered with the wonted spirit of ven- 
 geance. It is true he did slay Rellim's dog, true he 
 flogged Caspar Liftal within an inch of his life, but 
 opportunity impelled the blows which were the last 
 rancorous flashes from the expiring embers of hate. 
 
 Kindness had conquered him. A common kind- 
 ness, which costs nothing, brought him over to peace. 
 The gentle kindness of a pure young girl redeemed the 
 young outlaw. 
 
 Nearly every day while he was confined to the 
 house with his feverish arm, Charlotte, often accom- 
 panied by one or the other of her parents, visited him. 
 The intimacy thus sprung up ripened into a mutual 
 regard between the proud Duvals and the humble 
 Jackmans. The warmest and most beautiful attach- 
 ment grew up between the two children. It was not 
 that love wherein sexual instinct is the mainspring, 
 they were but children ; but it was that love, not less 
 firm, founded on sympathy and devotion, and which is 
 ultimately led captive when passion awakes from its 
 embryo tic slumber. 
 
 It was as humorous as it was pleasant to witness
 
 70 TANOHEDL 
 
 the proprietary airs of the child Charlotte toward the 
 child Jarl. She assumed to control Jiis words and 
 actions, and, if possible, his very thoughts. It is not 
 meant that she tyrannized over him, or that lie was 
 the worse for being thus subjected to a moral quaran- 
 tine before admittance into a healthy social atmosphere. 
 His ways were a little rough, she smoothed them 
 down ; his words were sometimes harsh, she modulated 
 to a softer key ; his thoughts, as sometimes expressed 
 to her, were often wicked, she banished them. 
 
 To the boy, long accustomed to neglect and ill- 
 usage, it was a severe struggle to reform. Malignity 
 had engrafted itself on his nature, and would occasion- 
 ally burst through all restraint and overwhelm Jarl 
 with disgrace and Charlotte with dismay. However, 
 under her patient tutorship he did measurably succeed 
 in conducting himself as a civilized boy should. 
 
 But there was trouble ahead. In spite of the 
 patronage of the influential Duvals the neighbors one 
 and all refused to admit Jarl to fellowship. They had 
 hated him too long and too strong for so radical a 
 change as that from hate to fellowship. 
 
 In justice to Jarl it must be stated that ho neither 
 expected nor sought favor of any of his neighbors; 
 apparently he was as defiant and disdainful as ever. 
 But he was, by his discreet behavior, showing that he 
 deserved some friendly recognition at the hands of his
 
 TANCREDL 71 
 
 fellow creatures. Mrs. Duval tried hard to introduce 
 her protege to the favorable notice of society, but in 
 vain. 
 
 The major part of the residents of the community 
 had injured Jarl in one way or another, and nearly all 
 had spoken ill of him. 
 
 It is common, although unaccountable, for a person 
 to hate any one he has injured. This is especially the 
 case where the wrong inflicted is heinous, unprovoked, 
 and deliberate. The .hate is still more intensified when 
 the victim is innocent and amiable. 
 
 John Roe causelessly wrongs Richard Doe. Doe 
 never wronged Roe, does not even resent the injury 
 he feels ; why should Roe hate Doe that much the 
 more bitter ? Why does Roe continue the wrong ? 
 Why does he add insult to injury ? 
 
 There is no sensation that so absorbs a man's mind 
 or so influences his conduct as the feeling he has 
 toward the person who owes him a debt. That debt 
 may be one of money, or gratitude, or hate. Roe feels 
 a peculiar interest in his debtor, Doe, he keeps his 
 eye on him. What that debtor does or says has a 
 more than ordinary interest. Roe is constantly expect- 
 ing pay day to come around, especially when hate is 
 the debt. Nay, in the latter case, he urges payment by 
 every provocation that suggests itself. 
 
 Society was well aware that it had wronged Jarl.
 
 72 TANCJIEDI. 
 
 It know the boy owed it a debt of hate, and society 
 fully expected that Juii would continue, as he had 
 done, to pay that debt in installments of revenge. 
 Kindness from the members of society toward him 
 now would be a surrender, and an unequivocable 
 acknowledgment that they had been in the wrong. 
 They were not the sort of people to stultify themselves 
 by such a confession ; they were not around for the 
 purpose of exalting gypsy beggars to respectability. 
 No ; let him cancel his debt with hate for hate. They 
 defied him ; they held him at arm's length. 
 
 Mrs. Duval was criticized and ridiculed by her 
 acquaintances for her espousal of the young outlaw's 
 cause ; but she was not to be turned aside from her 
 romantic undertaking, and continued to patronize the 
 boy with more zeal than ever. 
 
 Jarl was often invited to the Duval mansion, where 
 he often went, but obstinately refused to remain for a 
 minute if other visitors were present. Mr. Duval took 
 a deep interest in the lad, for which the latter was 
 touchingly grateful. But Charlotte was the delight of 
 his eyes. It was a sight of beauty to watch them in 
 each other's company. His handsome face would light 
 up with joy when he came into her presence. They 
 roamed the fields and among the shadowy groves 
 together, and the dales echoed with their glad shouts, 
 and rang with Jarl's bird-like songs. He was supreme-
 
 TANCREDI. 73 
 
 ly, boisterously happy, nor was his bliss alloyed with 
 desire for other society than Charlotte's. 
 
 The autumn came on, and with it the opening of 
 the district school, where Jarl was to attend. All 
 dread was gone when he learned that Charlotte Duval 
 also was to attend the same school. 
 
 On the very opening day it was manifest that the 
 new teacher was primed with opinions prejudicial to 
 Jarl. By constant guard and patient endurance he 
 went through the first two weeks without great misfor- 
 tune. He felt that he was watched and distrusted as 
 though he were a wild beast of prey. 
 
 One day, during the noonday play hour, some 
 trouble arose among the ball players. Jarl never 
 attempted to join in the games, he had been ruled 
 out long before. On this particular day Jarl was 
 watching the game from a respectful distance with no 
 thought of interfering. Suddenly the ball from the 
 bat fell at his feet, where to let it lie was his first 
 thought ; but everybody on the field seemed yelling at 
 him to throw them the ball. He picked it up, but in 
 his bewilderment, threw it to the wrong player. This 
 almost involuntary and unintentional blunder on his 
 part, drew down on his head the fiercest maledictions 
 of the party that lost by the mistake. They called 
 him everything that juvenile brains could invent or 
 boyish tongues give utterance to.
 
 74 TANCREDI. 
 
 " Keep your hands oS what don't belong to you," 
 exclaimed a big boy, drawing nigh. 
 
 " You're always pokin' your nose into what dcn't 
 concern you. I've a mind to break your head !" 
 shouted others, as a mob crowded around Jarl. The 
 shouting and jeering crowd attracted the whole school 
 to the spot. 
 
 Jarl said nothing, but his clenched fists, flashing 
 eyes, and ashen face showed that revenge was almost 
 bursting from his defiant body. Charlotte Duval was 
 standing near, he caught her eye; she elbowed her 
 way to his side. She turned and faced the menacing 
 and angry crowd of boys. 
 
 " You cowards are always imposing on Jarl !" she 
 cried. " You ought to be ashamed of yourselves. I 
 heard you call on him to throw the ball, and now you 
 abuse him for doing so ! You're all a pack of cow- 
 ards !" 
 
 "Hello, Lotta! You're Jarl's sweetheart, ain't 
 you ? Better mind your own business, tomboy !" 
 
 Jarl stretched the young blackguard on the turf, 
 and looked prepared for all comers, but no one else 
 came. 
 
 A complaint was made against Jarl to the teacher, 
 and he was called up before the school. 
 
 " Did you strike Richard Smith !" 
 
 " I did."
 
 TANCREDI. 75 
 
 "What for?'' 
 
 " For insulting Charlotte Duval." 
 
 l( Did you know it was wrong to strike him ?" 
 
 "No, Sir." 
 
 " Are you sorry you struck him ?" 
 
 "Ko." 
 
 " Then I shall punish you." 
 
 " I think you had better not try that." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Because you would be in the wrong with 
 Richard. Besides I'll thrash him every time he insults 
 Charlotte. If you punish me for doing right, you'll 
 be sorry." 
 
 " Do you mean that as a threat ?" 
 
 "I mean it as the earnest truth, and no warning." 
 
 The teacher did not heed the warning, but made 
 Jarl strip for the whipping. The poor fellow then 
 received one of those brutal beatings which were once 
 thought to be a department of learning. 
 
 Jarl was barbarously beaten ; blood flowed at every 
 stroke. 
 
 As each blow fell on his almost naked shoulders 
 Charlotte shrieked, until no longer able to endure the 
 shocking sight, the brave girl threw herself between 
 master and his victim, and forced the brute to desist. 
 
 " Your'e killing him ! Stop, for God's sake, stop !
 
 76 TANCREDI. 
 
 Your'e killing him because he took my part !" cried 
 the terrified girl. 
 
 And Jarl, how did he behave? 
 
 Like a martyr under the knout, or in the flames. 
 He never winced, but his face was pale as death, and 
 his great black eyes emitted a terrible light as he 
 glared on the brutal master. 
 
 The teacher saw murder in that boy's eye, and he 
 laid away the hickory rod, when Charlotte fell fainting 
 to the floor. Jarl caught her in his arms, and sprang 
 for the door, where he stood like a tiger at bay. 
 
 " You have beat me for the last time ! You beat 
 me for these cowards ! I'll get even with you all !" 
 
 He was gone. He led and half carried Charlotte 
 Duval, who partially revived on entering the glad free 
 air which played and sang among the trees, or moaned 
 among the gables of the slaughter-pen left behind for- 
 ever. Mr. Duval returned for Charlotte's books and 
 Jarl's clothing. Flight alone saved the pedagogue 
 from the wrath of the enraged father and friend. 
 
 When Jarl reached home, the keen-sighted 
 Prudence soon learned the new trouble, and on seeing 
 his shoulders such a wail of distress went up from her 
 throat as would have melted a heart of stone. When 
 Nate saw the cruel welts and blood-stained excoria- 
 tions, he struck his ponderous fists together and swore 
 like a trooper.
 
 TANCREDI. 77 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 " Know how sublime a thing it is 
 To suffer, and be strong." 
 
 THE evening- of the day on which Jarl received the 
 unmerciful beating was a memorable one in the his- 
 tory of the Jackmans, for it was the time when Jarl 
 first spoke of running away. 
 
 The occupants of the cottage sat around the blaz- 
 ing fire after the miller's work was done. The 
 November winds moaned among the pines, and whis- 
 tled around the gables, and the sleet rattled at the 
 windows. 
 
 Prudence had anointed Jarl's wounds with oil and 
 to the great comfort of his external hurts, but there 
 was an ache at his heart which oil and lint could not 
 assuage. 
 
 "I want to go away," said Jarl, interrupting the 
 silence which had fallen on the group. 
 
 "Go away!" exclaimed JSTate, in surprise. "Did 
 you say go away. Jarl ?" 
 
 " Yes, I shall go away from here." 
 
 c; And why do you want to go away, my boy?"
 
 78 TANCREDI. 
 
 " Oh, I can't stand the abuse of the people any 
 longer. I thought maybe it was mostly my fault that 
 everybody is so cross to me, but it an't that. The better 
 I behave and the harder I try to deserve their good 
 opinion the worse they treat me. I'm tired of being 
 fought at and beaten and abused, and I'm tired of fight- 
 ing back. The only way to end it all is for me to go 
 away from here." 
 
 " But where can you go, Jarl," asked Prudence, in. 
 alarm. 
 
 " Somewhere, anywhere, so it's away from here, 
 and far enough away where I an't known." 
 
 " Poor boy ! But what's to become of us ? what's 
 to become of me and Prudy if you go away ? Think 
 of that, Jarl, what's to become of me and Prudy after 
 you are gone ?" 
 
 Jarl arose and stood beside the old man seated in 
 his arm-chair, and gently and so lovingly put one arm 
 around the miller's neck. 
 
 "I think of that, my good father, and my good sister, 
 I think of that every day. I thought of it long ago, 
 and because I thought of you I stayed and suffered." 
 
 " Oh, Jarl ! We can never let you go !" cried Pru- 
 dence, taking his disengaged hand in both hers. 
 
 "No, Jarl," said Nate, shaking his gray head very 
 emphatically, "we can never let you go. Stay with us, 
 Jarl, we'll be good to you ; we love yon, Jarl, if other
 
 TANCREDI. 79 
 
 people don't; you needn't go where they air. All. 
 except Miss Charlotte and her father and mother 
 Charlotte '11 be good to yon they'll all be good to you, 
 all of 'em. They like yon Jarl, but not as we love you. 
 You'll stay with us?" 
 
 " But, my kind father, listen ; I can't always stay at 
 home. I'll be a man some day, and must leave you 
 then ; why not now ? Besides, I am not going away for 
 good not going to desert you. I don't mean that. I 
 will come back home often and often, for this is my 
 dear home, and you are my dear father and sister. 
 Why, I'll write to you every day, and it'll be nearly 
 the same as if I were with you all the time." 
 
 The three remained silent for some time, and they 
 all looked straight into the fire. 
 
 The proposition of the foster child was new and 
 startling. Long as he had suffered, and long as he had 
 wished to fly from the cruel neighbors, he had never 
 before given them a hint of his desire, nor would he 
 now if there was any other course left open for him to 
 follow. 
 
 He was fully determined to go. It was bad 
 enough to remain when he could fight his enemies 
 back ; there was a degree of satisfaction in that. But 
 his case was different now. The Duvals entered 
 largely into his life, and fighting back was out of the 
 question. To practice his creed of vengeance would
 
 80 TANCREDI. 
 
 frighten Charlotte and displease her parents. Grati- 
 tude toward them was a part of his religion, and 
 going away was his salvation. Not that he was less 
 brave or self-reliant, nor because revenge was less 
 sweet, but because his few friends would be constantly 
 shocked and mortified were he to continue his life of 
 retaliation. 
 
 As he could no longer fight he must retreat. 
 Staying meant war, going meant peace. 
 
 " Where will you go, my boy ?" asked Nate, still 
 looking straight into the fire, as if addressing it. 
 
 " I should like to go where I can get a little more 
 schooling, and where I can learn a trade," answered 
 Jarl, speaking to the fire. 
 
 " Jarl, my boy, why not be a miller ? Why not, 
 indeed ! I could turn out good work when I was 
 your age. I could, that ! I could turn it out with 
 the best of 'em. The mill's mine ; it'll be yourn 
 some day, if you'll only stay. Some day when I'm 
 gone the mill '11 be yourn. I have done well here in 
 the old mill ; I have, indeed. You can do better nor 
 even I did, bekase you're a heap smarter nor even I 
 was." 
 
 The great log at the moment turned over in the 
 fire, and a brilliant shower of sparks filled the chimney 
 throat. 
 
 "Don't you see how the people hate me, father?
 
 TANCREDI. 81 
 
 The old mill would rot down with idleness Lefore 
 they would send their grain to my mill." 
 
 A gust of wind sent a puff of smoke down the 
 chimney and into the room. 
 
 " Maybe so ! Maybe so ! God pity them all ! 
 God pity them as drives my poor boy away from me." 
 
 Again silence fell on the sad group. Jarl was 
 standing between the seated father and daughter, with 
 one hand resting on the old man's shoulder, and the 
 other hand in Prudence's hands. They all looked 
 into the fire, their conversation was directed to the 
 fire, and from it they received responses. Their 
 musings were flame girt, their thoughts branded with 
 fire. It was a scene that could only be enacted 
 around the domestic hearth. 
 
 " Father," said Prudence, in an absent, dreaming, 
 like voice. 
 
 Nate heard not, heeded not, he gazed into the 
 fire. 
 
 " Father," repeated the girl. . 
 
 " What is it, Prudy ?" asked the old man. 
 
 She made no answer. What is it she sees in the 
 live embers? Is it the face of the dead, fresh risen 
 from the tomb ? 
 
 " Father ; why don't you speak," she exclaimed, 
 impatiently. 
 
 4*
 
 82 TANCREDI. 
 
 " Are you crazy, girl ?" asked Nate, reaching 
 around Jarl, and giving her a shake. 
 
 " What is to hinder us from going away with 
 Jarl 8" she asked, rising to her feet, and turning to her 
 father, with a look of alarm on her face. 
 
 The old man also arose to his feet with no less 
 frightened look a look compounded of dread, terror, 
 and sorrow. 
 
 " Go away with Jarl ! Leave the Old Mill !" 
 
 " Yes, father ; go away with Jarl. I, too, am tired, 
 have long been tired, of the life we lead here the life 
 we have led ever since the poor child came to us." 
 
 New thoughts and startling emotions were crowd- 
 ing each other fast and painfully in the minds of the 
 miller and his daughter. 
 
 " You are getting old, father, and need more rest 
 than you get. You have saved enough to keep you 
 the balance of your days. Dickson has been at you 
 for a long time to sell him the mill ; why not let him 
 have it, and go away from here and take us all with 
 you ?" 
 
 " Sell the Old Mill ! My father owned it before 
 me. I was born here. I was born and bred a miller, 
 and don't know anything else." 
 
 " Oh, yes, father, you know what is good for Jarl, 
 and you can help him learn something outside the 
 mill."
 
 TANCREDI. 83 
 
 " Go away from here and leave poor mother all 
 alone in her cold grave? Leave her all alone !" 
 
 "My mother loved little Jarl, too," she said, sob- 
 bing, after an interval of silence. 
 
 "So she did! So she did!" 
 
 " It would break her poor heart to see the way the 
 poor boy is abused around here. It would kill her to 
 see him go away among strangers. It would kill her ! 
 And it will kill me." 
 
 " I expect it would. I expect it would. Well, I 
 must sleep on it. I must have a talk with Duval; 
 what he says to do, I'll do. So, there, now ; that's all 
 I'll promise." 
 
 They retired for the night.
 
 84 TANCHEDL 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 " Stand not upon the order of your going, 
 But go at once." 
 
 IF divinity shapes our ends, what, then, is the 
 subtle agency through which it operates? Is it by 
 some imponderable and inscrutable dynamics reflected 
 from a world unseen ? Is it the faint glimmer that 
 streaks life's gloom with faith and hope? 
 
 Perchance the shadows of the dead wife and 
 maniac woman bent over the couch of the sleeping 
 miller, and stamped on the register of his brain their 
 desire. 
 
 ''I must tell you about my dream last night," said 
 Kate Jack man, smiling pleasantly on his family at 
 breakfast the next morning after Jarl's declaration. 
 
 "I dreamt that my wife was a livin' and that me 
 and her and Prudy started to go away far, far away 
 from the old mill, a leavin' Jarl behind. Just as we 
 were a goin' over the far hill we halted to take a last 
 look at the old spot, when we saw the mill on fire, 
 with Jarl on the roof a wavin' for me to come back
 
 TANCREDI. 85 
 
 and take him out of the fire. We could see the mob 
 of mad people a pokin' up the fire to make it hotter 
 and hotter to burn Jarl. My wife started on a run back 
 to help Jarl, and I run too, but I beat her a runnin'. 
 When I got to the mill the mob ketched me and held 
 one of my feet in the fire to roast it. That waked me 
 up, when I found one of my feet a stickin' out from, 
 under the bed-clothes, and cold as ice." 
 
 Jarl laughed at the tale of the dream, and more 
 particularly at its queer ending, which, he said, was as 
 ridiculous as the ending of his own dream of the last 
 night. 
 
 "I dreamed," he went on to say, " that the witches 
 caught me, and, after saddling me, rode me away 
 through the skies of the night. I cantered along very 
 spiritedly was what yon might call a prancing steed 
 until the saddle began to gall me, which presently 
 became so painful that I awoke with the smarting, and 
 from a horse with a galled back, was instantly changed 
 into a fidgety boy who had rolled over in his sleep on 
 his eore back." 
 
 " What a lucky dream," said Nate, who, like all 
 the old stock, was not quite sure but what witches 
 were real beings. " To dream of witches is a sign 
 of money. To dream of them a ridin' you through 
 the air, is a sign you'll git pooty high up in the 
 world. In fact its lucky it was a dream."
 
 86 TANCREDI. 
 
 " Why is it lucky ?" 
 
 " If it hadn't been a dream, it would ha' been real, 
 wouldn't it ?" 
 
 "I hadn't thought of that." 
 
 " Did they ride you a straddle ?" 
 
 " How would a horse know that ?" 
 
 " 'Cause if they did I'll tell you how to keep them 
 from ridin' you astraddle another time." 
 
 "How!" 
 
 " Don't go to sleep, and the witches won't ride 
 you." 
 
 Nate's loud laughing brought Jarl to gradually 
 know that a joke had been perpetrated at his expense. 
 
 "If you don't want your foot roasted by a mob, 
 you had better stay awake and not take off your 
 shoes," retorted Jarl. 
 
 Nate affected not to hear the last remark of Jarl, 
 but suddenly became interested in Prudence. 
 
 " And what did, you dream, Prudy ?" he asked 
 her. 
 
 " I did not dream, father, but lay awake and 
 thought." 
 
 " What was you a thinkin' about ?" 
 
 " Of everything and everybody I ever knew. I 
 thought of yon, and mother and Jarl. I thought that 
 maybe Mrs. Duval is right that Jarl has powerful 
 friends somewhere in the wide world who are griev-
 
 TANCREDI. 87 
 
 ing for his loss, and to whom we should try to restore 
 their lost boy. And then I thought that if ever we 
 do find them, or they us, we must get away from this 
 secluded place And mingle with the great world where 
 they are. And I also thought," she continued in a 
 softer, sadder voice, " I also thought, of John Taplan, 
 the sailor, who started for Cape Horn on his way to 
 California four years ago. I remembered his promise, 
 and I wondered if he had kept faith with me, as I 
 have kept faith with him 2" 
 
 " Poor girl ! Poor girl !" exclaimed the father. 
 " Four long years and no word from John ! But if 
 he's alive he's true ; he's true, I swear he's true, if he's 
 alive ! Jarl, when you get your breakfast you must 
 go over to Duvals and tell him I want to see him. I 
 want to have a long chat with him on important busi- 
 ness ; mind, on particular business" 
 
 Jarl met Duval and Charlotte en route to the mill, 
 and turned back with them. 
 
 Jackman and his trusted friend were closeted a 
 long time together that morning. The matter between 
 them was the discussion of Jarl's declaration. 
 
 Duval listened attentively, and with few inter- 
 ruptions, until Kate had said all he could say on the 
 subject. Jackman concluded his statement by bluntly 
 asking, " Ought I to go, or stay ?" 
 
 Duval was perplexed, and for a long time sat in
 
 83 TANCREDI. 
 
 silent deliberation. When he began to talk he spoke 
 very slowly, as if cautiously groping his way along an 
 unknown path in the dark. 
 
 " You place a solemn responsibility on me, my 
 friend. The future happiness of yourself and youiv 
 daughter, will largely depend on what my advice shall 
 be, and will certainly depend on what course you pur- 
 sue. We must make no mistake. Let us decide as 
 wisely as we can, since the issue is to be so great. 
 And before I give you my opinion, I must have time 
 to think the subject all over. Let Jarl go home with 
 me ; I must have a free and full talk with him. On 
 to-morrow I shall come to you with my answer." 
 
 On the following day, Duval, in pursuance of his 
 appointment, returned to the mill. 
 
 " Well, Kite," said he, " I have been thinking the 
 matter over and over again ; I have talked with Jarl, 
 and the more I study the case, the more I hesitate in 
 shouldering the responsibility of advising you. How- 
 ever I said I would and I will. But, in order that I 
 may be relieved somewhat of the weighty trust con- 
 fided to me, you shall, with my help, reach the 
 decision step by step." 
 
 Nate bowed assent. 
 
 " You are getting well on in years ?" 
 
 "Yes."
 
 TANCREDI. 89 
 
 " You have looked forward to the time when you 
 could take life easy ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " You have saved between seven and eight thous- 
 and dollars, and your mill and house will bring three 
 thousand more ?" 
 
 Yes." 
 
 " Neither you nor Prudence can have much regard 
 for your neighbors because of their bad treatment of 
 Jarl 2" 
 
 " That's a fact." 
 
 " You would prefer good neighbors 2" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Jarl can' t get an education here 2" 
 
 " It seems not." 
 
 " Nor learn a trade here ; or do business, even if 
 he had a trade?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Then it's a sure thing that he must go away, and 
 stay away all his life 2" 
 
 " I suppose so." 
 
 " Then he ought to go soon, the sooner the 
 better." 
 
 Why 2" 
 
 " In order that he may get an education, and learn 
 a trade. "When he's a man it'll be too late." 
 
 " That's so ! That's so !"
 
 90 TAACREDI. 
 
 " And he ought to go away so far that the absurd 
 prejudices of this neighborhood will not follow him ?" 
 
 " That sounds right ; I think it is right." 
 
 " Prudence wishes to leave ?" 
 
 "Oh, yes; Prudy's as tired of this place as Jarl 
 is." 
 
 " You love her and Jarl, and want to do all you 
 can to make them happy ?" 
 
 "Certainly! Certainly!" 
 
 "Jarl must go, and go he will; there's no help 
 against that. Can you bear to see him go alone ?" 
 
 " Tore God, no, Duval !" 
 
 " Then in the name of God what do you want to 
 stay here for ?" 
 
 The old man sat with fingers locked around his 
 knees, and twirling his thumbs over and over each 
 other, as if unravelling a tangled skein. 
 
 Presently he looked up with a perplexed air, and 
 said : 
 
 " Duval, you've got me so through each other that 
 I don't know which from t'other !" 
 
 Nate was bewildered, but it was not the kind of 
 bewilderment he said it was. It was true that Duval 
 had put him ''through other," and he was correct 
 when he said so. The truth is, the subject was made 
 as clear to him as the noon-day sun ; too clear, for it 
 dazed him with its sudden glare. It was clear to him
 
 TANCREDI. 91 
 
 that Jarl must go, and equally clear that it was his 
 duty to go with Jarl ; nay, it was clear to him that 
 when Jarl went nothing could keep him and Prudence 
 from going along. But still the unsophisticated old 
 fellow was puzzled and undecided. 
 
 He had trusted that Duval would, somehow, find a 
 way out of the difficulty without Jarl going away ; but 
 when the trusted arbitrator spoke so decidedly in favor 
 of going, he was overwhelmed and bewildered. 
 
 Nate Jackman was perplexed, but it was that per- 
 plexity felt by those who, often toiling in one spot for 
 threescore years, are suddenly driven into exile; it was 
 the amazement felt by the recluse when he is involun- 
 tarily thrust into the midst of the great world of which 
 he knows little or nothing. Duval's decree was, to 
 the hale old man, like a summons of death for a trifling 
 indisposition. 
 
 "You will lose nothing, so far as money is con- 
 cerned," continued Duval, noticing the painful indecis- 
 ion of his old friend. " You must gain in a social point 
 of view, while Jarl gains everything. It is hard for him 
 to stay here and submit to the abuse of the heartless 
 people ; and my word for it, he will not endure such 
 treatment any longer. If you don't go away he will go 
 without you, and he will be justified in such a course. 
 The question is, ought you to let him go to the dogs, 
 or help him begin life anew ? I think you should stick
 
 93 TANCREDI. 
 
 to Jarl he's a grand boy, and will make a grand man. 
 And now yon have my opinion my advice." 
 
 " And that says go." 
 
 "Yes, go!" 
 
 " Well, go, it is," said Jackman, bravely, stepping to 
 the door to summon the children that they might hear 
 the ultimatum. 
 
 "That's settled," he continued, with the air of one 
 who has got through with a hard task. 
 
 "I have another favor to ask of you, Duval." 
 
 "Name, it," said Duval. 
 
 " I want yon to stand by me, and help me fix up 
 my concerns. I want you to tell me where to go, for 
 I suppose going away from here means going some- 
 where else. I've heerd of people going away bckase 
 they wanted to go to some place, but I never before 
 heerd of anybody going to a place they didn't know 
 where it was." . 
 
 The first step was to close with the thrifty German, 
 Dickson, who had long coveted the mill property.
 
 TANCREDI. 93 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 " What sorrows gloomed that parting day 
 That called them from their native walks away." 
 
 WHEN the transfer of the mill property was made, 
 and after the household effects were disposed of, Nate 
 Jackrnan began to take on a new character, and dis- 
 play a disposition foreign to his whole antecedent 
 life. 
 
 He had been noted for his caution and tact. He 
 knew well how to attend to his own business, which 
 occupation allowed him no time to meddle with that 
 of his neighbors. This trait of character existed, not 
 so much from natural disposition as from commercial 
 inclination and business necessity. It was not consti- 
 tutional, but was acquired by long and profitable prac- 
 tice. It was a business principle with him to make no 
 enemies, and to avoid even noticing an offence. His 
 whole life had been bent on making the mill a success, 
 while all other aims and objects were made subsidiary 
 to this one central fixed object. This artful, studied, 
 and stubborn line of conduct accounted for his patient, 
 long-suffering demeanor toward those who persecuted 
 Jarl.
 
 94 TANCBEDI. 
 
 Bat things were altered now. There was no 
 longer the need of commercial stoicism, since patron- 
 age was no longer an object. His occupation vas 
 gone, and with it went his system of moral philoso- 
 phy. The natural proclivities of the man now asserted 
 themselves unrestrained by fear or favor. 
 
 He not only remembered the bitter tribulations of 
 the past, but he felt that his neighbors were responsi- 
 ble for his banishment from the home of his child- 
 hood the one spot most dear and sacred to him. 
 
 His neighbors dropped in to see him and talk over 
 the subject of his going away, with their regrets, for 
 Jackman was universally liked as a miller, and his 
 acquaintances were sincere in regretting his loss to the 
 neighborhood. But he now charged them, one and 
 all, with hypocrisy and falsehood. Those who had 
 been most aggressive in persecuting Jarl were perem- 
 torily ordered away from the premises. 
 
 "I hate ye! Git out of my sight or ye'll get 
 hurt !" he roared at them. 
 
 Of course the community was shocked. It always 
 is shocked when it meets with merited indignation. 
 The neighbors were astounded at the change in the 
 miller's demeanor toward them, and it is to be hoped 
 they were mortified also. It is certain they were not 
 contrite, but took refuge in charging Jackman with 
 being crazy.
 
 TANCREDI. 93 
 
 He made a visit to the school-house, and paid his 
 respects to the schoolmaster who had beaten Jarl so 
 unmercifully. He gave that absolute tyrant such a 
 drubbing with his hickory cane before the whole 
 school as will live green in his memory to his dying 
 day. 
 
 N"ate was hauled up before a country justice of the 
 peace to answer for assault and battery. It was the 
 first and only time the old hero was " sued." He 
 wanted to "fight the case," that is, make a legal fight, 
 but Duval, knowing how plain the case was, and hav- 
 ing a wholesome influence over him, persuaded him 
 out of the notion, or, rather, mano3uvred him out of 
 it. Nate appeared on the day of the trial, or on the 
 day the docket was to be cleared, and he thought then, 
 and still believes, that he made a fight, and that the 
 trial proceeded in the regular way. 
 
 His notion of a lawsuit, having never witnessed 
 one, was that it must be a kind of pitched battle, and, 
 accordingly, he went prepared to pitch in. Figura- 
 tively he had on his war paint. He wore no coat and 
 had his shirt sleeves rolled up, although it was cold 
 weather. His suspenders were tied around his waist 
 like a belt, and he flourished his big hickory walking 
 stick, the very one he had used in belaboring the 
 schoolmaster. Thus panoplied lie marched to the seat 
 of war.
 
 96 TANCREDI. 
 
 He took Jurl along with him. " I want to show 
 'em we ain't afeard. I want to see if the'll lay a fin- 
 ger on you when I'm around," he said, compressing 
 his lips, and tightening his grasp on the hickory. 
 
 The entire male population of the neighborhood 
 was assembled at the squire's office in expectancy of 
 fun, for the mad ways of the miller had become noto- 
 rious. When he saw the crowd, he felt that they 
 were there to oppose him, but he defied them all. It 
 was fortunate that Dtival was also present to hold him 
 in check, or his disposition to crack somebody's head 
 might have been indulged in. 
 
 " Stick up to 'em, my boy," he said, slapping Jarl 
 on the shoulder. " I'll back you I'll stand by you. 
 Dang 'em, don't take any of their sass. Dang 'em, its 
 our turn now." 
 
 Thus went on the gray-headed hero, dancing about 
 like a belligerent Irishman at Donnybrook fair, egging 
 on some one to tread on his coat-tail. 
 
 " Who air you a gapin' at ? What air you a look- 
 in' at me for?" he asked, sidling up to Mr. Liftal, and 
 shaking his fist in the man's face. Duval took hold 
 of the rampager, and warned him to desist or the 
 squire would send him to jail for contempt of court. 
 
 " I'll mind you, Duval, but I kin lick Contempt 
 and Liftal both put together." 
 
 When he had paid his fine for the assault on the
 
 TANCKEDI. 97 
 
 teacher, lie took Jarl by the hand, scowled on the court 
 and spectators, and moved off toward home. When 
 he got outside, some one sang out : 
 
 " Good-bye, Nate ; if you call that going/' 
 
 " Yes ; I call that goin',' 5 he said, turning on them. 
 " And maybe it ain't good manners forme to go with- 
 out sayin' good-bye. I'm goin'. Do you want to know 
 why I' m a goin'? I'll tell you why ; it's bekase I 
 never want to see the likes of you again. I call ye 
 mean. D'ye know why I call ye mean? It's bekase 
 you air mean." 
 
 By this time the whole crowd was out of the 
 squire's office to hear the only public speech of Date's 
 life. 
 
 " But d'ye know why I'm goin' away ? Bekase 
 you abused and beat and worried the life out of my 
 poor boy, Jarl. Do you see him ? This is Jarl. 
 
 " Mr. Liftel, you know him. You told your son 
 Casper not to speak to Jarl because he was a beggar's 
 brat. 
 
 " Bowler, you know Jarl. You wouldn't let your 
 children go to Sunday-school bekase Jarl went. 
 
 "Mr. Tobby, let me introduce you to Jarl. 
 You've met him before, do you say ? Don't you 
 mind, you blamed him for stealing your watennillions, 
 when you knowed it was your own son, Bob. 
 
 " Well, if that ain't Bob, himself ! Why, Bobby, 

 
 98 TA.NCREDI. 
 
 you great big hulk of an overgrown calf this is the 
 little boy you blacked his eye. Maybe you'd like to 
 try it on to-day ? Eh ! 
 
 " Mister Kellim, how do you do ? You have met 
 Jarl before. Do you think he's grown much since 
 you druv him out your front gate ? It was your 
 gate then, it ain't now, is it? Too bad, ain't it? 
 Jarl tried to save you from wrack and ruin, but yon 
 wouldn't let him, would you? How do you like to 
 haul coal in a one-hoss cart for a livin'? 
 
 " Yes, men, this is my boy, Jarl," continued the 
 red-faced miller, removing the boy's cap, telling him 
 to look up and not be afeared. 
 
 " This is Jarl, the boy who is an orphan. He aiivt 
 got no father, but I'm his father ; nor any mother but 
 Prudy, nor any friend but Mr. Duval, he's his friend. 
 God bless him ! 
 
 " Ain't you proud of yourselves for abusiii' and a 
 beatin' this lone little child, as I took to raise decent, 
 like one of my own ? 
 
 "Look at him ! "Where'll you find a better look- 
 ing or a braver boy ? You can't, that's all. 
 
 "Liftal, how's his nose 'long side of Caspar's 
 pug 3 
 
 "Bobby Tobby, looke here; this hair ain't red 
 and fuzzy like some folk's now, is it ?" 
 
 " Jarl !" exclaimed Bob, sneeringly, wincing under
 
 TANCREDI. 09 
 
 the old man's coarse sarcasms, "Is that all the name 
 he's got ? What do you call him Jarl, for ?" 
 
 " Bekase that's his name, young man ; it ain't Jarl 
 Tobby, nor Tobby Jarl." 
 
 "We're agoin' away to find Jarl's parents," con- 
 tinued the old man in a softer, kinder key. " They 
 are great and rich people as wouldn't wipe their feet 
 on the likes of you. The next time you Bee him he 
 will be rich and great, and he won't know you any 
 more. We don't know you from this time out for- 
 ever and ever !" 
 
 Nate extended his arms and spread out his palms, 
 as if throwing off his enemies for all time to come. 
 He then turned on his heel, and, holding Jarl by the 
 hand, walked rapidly home, where the fire blazed on the 
 hearth for the last time. On the morrow the Jackmans 
 were to depart for their new home. 
 
 The proceeds of the sales, together with a sum of 
 ready money on deposit, amounted to over twelve 
 thousand dollars. The major part was invested by 
 Duval in a way that would insure a steady but small 
 income, sufficient, with strict economy, to keep the 
 miller's small and inexpensive family in comfort. 
 
 It has already been stated that William Duval had 
 a sister. Her name was Amelia Heron, a childless 
 widow, living in Philadelphia. She was her brother's 
 senior. Her husband had been a produce merchant
 
 100 TANCEBDI, 
 
 with a large and profitable trade, and since his death 
 she carried on the business superintending it herself. 
 
 Duval wrote her a letter, giving a history of the Jack- 
 mans, and asking her to aid him in securing for them a 
 home in Philadelphia. Of Jarl he wrote, "My interest 
 in the lad is founded partly on pity, and partly on 
 sentiment and his real worthiness. I ask you, my dear 
 sister, on my account, to take some trouble to serve^these 
 deserving people, feeling confident that your kindness 
 will he rewarded when you come to know them as I 
 do." 
 
 The most hearty affection existed between the 
 brother and sister, and she caught the sympathy mani- 
 fested in her brother's letter. She wrote a reply filled 
 with the most gracious expressions of zeal toward those 
 whom she termed her brother's pilgrims. 
 
 "There is at this moment," she wrote, "a comfor- 
 table house on the next street, which I have already 
 secured at a moderate rent." 
 
 "I have long been anxious to follow your example 
 and retire from business, but the trouble has been to 
 find one whom I can trust with the management of 
 my affairs. I hope to find in your miller the man I 
 want, for I take it he should be familiar with the 
 grain and feed business. They may come on at once." 
 
 The Jackmans were ready to start.
 
 TANCREDI. 101 
 
 The Duvals had driven over in their carriage, 
 which was to carry the pilgrims to the railway station. 
 
 The time to leave is up. 
 
 Duval is very quiet. 
 
 His wife is fussy and noisy. 
 
 Charlotte is citing and listening to Jarl, who talks 
 big and looks brave. 
 
 Prudence is busy with the luggage. 
 
 And Nate, what of him? 
 
 Oh, he is as gentle and disconsolate as a child tak- 
 ing its last look at its dead mother, before the coffin 
 lid is closed clown on her forever. 
 
 He has been going in and out of the old mill all 
 the morning, like a lost dog in search of its master. 
 He draws the flood gate, when the great wheel turns 
 groaning on its ponderous iron gudgeons and sets the 
 mill in motion. Then he smiles at the rattle and roar 
 of the toiling giant. He shuts off the rushing waters, 
 when the thunder of the machinery ceases, and the old 
 miller stares at the dead Titan. He wanders among 
 the bins like a ghost visiting the ancient castle of its 
 forefathers. The pigeons flock about his familiar form, 
 and the rats grow bolder as they keep him company 
 in his melancholy tramp. Then he started like a 
 frightened animal and fled to the cottage, where he sat 
 gazing into the fire on the hearth. Uneasy there, he 
 took clown his cane and wandered out the front gate.
 
 103 TANCREDI. 
 
 Prudence watched him till he sank down beside a 
 grave away off on the distant hill-side. She followed 
 after, and came back leading the disconsolate moital. 
 
 Ah, Prudence! thoughless maiden, what have you 
 done ? When you planned your scheme of migration 
 little you dreamed of the heartache it would bring 
 your father. Fulling up stakes was to you, as to all 
 young people, an easy and exciting adventure; to him, 
 and to all old people, it is pulling up long rooted ties ; 
 it is tearing out heart-strings that were fastened and 
 strengthened by the slow and wholesome growth of 
 sixty long years. Migration to Nate Jackman was 
 banishment; dwelling among other scenes, be they 
 never so lovely, was exile. Old trees do not bear 
 transplanting ; old people do not bear migration. . 
 
 Farewell to the cottage where he was born, to where 
 he brought his blushing bride, and where his child was 
 born ! Farewell to the Old Mill where for half a 
 century he had ground the sweet golden grain ! And 
 farewell to the grave of his wife ! Home, sanctified by 
 toil, beautified by love, and hallowed by death, Farewell ! 
 
 The time is up ; let the birds of passage take their 
 flight. 
 
 Prudence would have given the world to stay at the 
 old mill. That awful look on her father's face weighed 
 on her heaa't like lead ; that solemn look was an accusa- 
 tion against her soul.
 
 TANCREDI. 103 
 
 It was too late to drive it away ; the mill and cot- 
 tage belonged to strangers now. 
 
 Duval sighed as he felt more impressively than ever 
 before, the solemn, almost awful responsibility he had 
 assumed in advising the miller to move away. The 
 generous Jarl would have borne with years of disquiet 
 if he could have stayed with his foster-father at the old 
 home. 
 
 Too late! Too late! Let the coach drive on. The 
 ties are broken, the cords snapped asunder, the heart- 
 strings drawn out by the roots, and the bewildered old 
 man, bent and broken in an hour he never should have 
 seen, is lifted into the carriage and driven away. His 
 pale, mournful face was pressed against the coach win- 
 dow, from where he gazed with glassy eyes at the Old 
 Mill, until the brown hill, covered with the leafless 
 trees of winter, shut out the sight forever.
 
 PAET SECOND. 
 FIDES PUNICA. 
 
 CHAPTER XIT. 
 
 "If knowing is but sorrow's spy, 
 'Twere better not to know." 
 
 IF they but knew how weak she was she the 
 beautiful woman who sang with the eloquence of an 
 angel ! Alas that beauty and frailty should so often 
 dwell together in unity ! 
 
 The scene was one of splendor and gayety. It was 
 the reception by the Italian embassador in "Wash- 
 ington. The elegant parlors were thronged with the 
 beauty and talent, local and transient, of the gay 
 American capital. 
 
 Among the honored guests present was Theodore 
 Bannemead, the well-known millionaire of Phila- 
 delphia, and his handsome daughter, Miss Alice. She 
 was then at the acme of popularity as the reigning 
 [104]
 
 TANCREDI. 105 
 
 belle of the Quaker City. The heiress of her father's 
 immense wealth, and endowed with beauty, grace and 
 culture of a superior order of merit, she was held to be 
 a most attractive ornament in the fashionable world 
 in which she moved. No assemblage was considered 
 quite bon ton without her patronage. Her dress and 
 style were the envy and despair of the women, as they 
 were the rage and rapture of the men. More than 
 one rival beauty desecrated, and more than one 
 Adonis worshiped this Yenus of fashion. She dis- 
 dained her rivals and graciously received the homage 
 of her devotees. She was queen of the beauties, and 
 smiled on the tailor moths that singed their wings 
 from buzzing too near her altar. The bedazzled 
 victims submitted gracefully to the scorching, holding 
 it better to have loved, though singed, than not to 
 have loved at all. Miss Bannemead was a coquette, 
 heartless and heroic, and arrayed cap-a-pie with love's 
 glittering armor, though her weapons beguiled with 
 their polish, or were artfully concealed. 
 
 As with all coquettes she expected that the con- 
 quering hero would come her way sooner or later, and 
 when he did come she was prepared to disarm and 
 hail him lord and master. But in the meantime, 
 while the bridegroom tarried, she kept her lamp 
 trimmed and burning, to singe the butterflies of 
 fashion. 
 
 5*
 
 106 TANCKEDI. 
 
 Alas, vain girl ! the time came all too soon when 
 the last victim lay scorched under thy blaze of glory. 
 The right one had come. 
 
 On the night of the Ambassador's entertainment, 
 Miss Bannemead was present and radiant in her majes- 
 tic beauty. 
 
 " We are to be favored wiz a zong by zee Signorina 
 Rosetta Godardo, zee famous Italian cantatrice," said 
 the Vicomte Bertrand, a decorated attache of the 
 French Legation at Washington. " Will you permit 
 me zee great honaire, Miss Bannemead, to bring you 
 where you zee music can more enjoy ?" 
 
 She took his arm and was conducted into the 
 adjoining room, where a celebrated maestro was seated 
 at the piano, evidently ready to begin the prelude. 
 Standing by him was the woman who was to sing. 
 
 "What black eyes!" exclaimed Miss Bannemead, 
 as her own met for an instant those of the strange 
 lady. " And how beautiful ! And how startling her 
 beauty ! Don't you think her beauty peculiar?" she 
 asked the count. 
 
 " Yes, Miss ; dark skin, zee raven hair, eyes so 
 black ! That the Italian for beauty, and zee pictur- 
 esque." 
 
 "Decidedly. Does she remind you of any one you 
 have met?" she asked, looking into the count's face 
 to watch as well as hear his reply.
 
 TANCREDI. 107 
 
 " Pardon me, Miss Bannemead if I offend, but in 
 her I behold a strong resemblance to your ladyship." 
 
 " Do you think that quite a compliment ?" she 
 asked, with an affected feint at pouting. 
 
 " You zall pardon me ; zee compliment is not in 
 zee dark skin, but in zee eyes, zee hair, zee grand con- 
 tour," replied the Frenchman, with a courtierly shrug 
 of his shoulders. 
 
 The viscount was right ; there were points of 
 strong resemblance between Alice Bannemead and 
 Rosetta Godardo. The difference was in size and 
 complexion. Miss Bannemead was fair as white ala- 
 baster, her figure tall and queenlike ; the Godardo was 
 a dark brunette, and petit in form. 
 
 " Who is she?" asked Miss Bannemead. 
 
 The maestro interrupted with the prelude. 
 
 The song was the Aria from Rigoletto, " Caro nome 
 che il mio cor." She rendered it with a grace and 
 spirit that evinced the finished artist, while her rich 
 and mellow notes charmed the listeners, who mani- 
 fested their approval by applause, perhaps too noisy 
 and long continued. She declined to sing more, 
 although the demand for encore was hearty and loud. 
 The Italian minister introduced her to the guests. 
 
 When Miss Bannemead and the Italian woman met 
 they grasped hands, and stood looking into each 
 other's face as if fascinated.
 
 108 TANCREDI. 
 
 Was it fascination, or was it distrust ? 
 
 Is it possible that even then Fate was casting its 
 shadows over the two women? the impress of ihat 
 occult and m} 7 sterious fiat which binds two beings in 
 the thrall of one common involuntary destiny ? 
 
 Madam, have you never felt an unaccountable fas- 
 cination for a person whom you have met for the first 
 time? You may not like, nay, you may even dislike, 
 but some occult force allures you toward that person 
 in spite of your judgment or your will. One void of 
 emotion will scout the idea, but the impression with 
 some is strong, scout who may. Like love for an 
 unworthy person, it is unaccountable. 
 
 Or, if you disdain the obscure in metaphysics, you 
 may believe that the two women shared a mutual 
 interest because of their mutual resemblance. 
 
 " Perdono me, Miss Bannemead, but in thy eyes I 
 behold mine," said the Italian woman, in a friendly 
 voice. 
 
 " And I am struck with your resemblance to me, 
 Signorina," replied the American. 
 
 " So tells me my my spechio ; I the name for- 
 got," said the cantatrice, holding her fan before her 
 face to indicate her meaning. 
 
 " Your mirror," familiarly suggested a gentleman 
 who stood near her. 
 
 " Ah ! My mirrora ; it is that. This my friend ;
 
 TANCREDI. 109 
 
 with me across the sea he came. Signer Micliele Tan- 
 credi," said Rosetta Godardo, introducing that gentle- 
 man to Miss Bannemead. 
 
 A beautiful man, is a phrase neither required nor 
 warranted by usage or good taste, and yet to say that 
 Michele Tancredi was a handsome man, falls short of 
 conveying a full appreciation of his elegant and noble 
 appearance. Perfect in form and feature, complete in 
 embellishments, and polished in manners, he was calcu- 
 lated to create a sensation wherever he went. Eich, 
 young and noble, his pathway was already strewn with 
 hearts and sighs, and other ponderable and imponder- 
 able trophies of female disaster. Many a dusky 
 beauty in the land of olives had been led a willing 
 captive by his charms ; hence it was no discredit to 
 Miss Bannemead's discernment when she too paid 
 tribute to the brilliant Signor. 
 
 The admiration seemed mutual, judging from the 
 marked politeness shown her by the Signor ; the two 
 devoted themselves to each other almost exclusively 
 during the remaining part of the evening. 
 
 To Miss Alice the hours flew away with the soft 
 speed of soaring doves, and to the enraptured Italian 
 each melting moment precipitated golden opinions of 
 the winsome American beauty. 
 
 " I begin to feel myself native and to the mansion 
 born," exclaimed the literary bungler and love's
 
 110 TANCREDl 
 
 exquisite, in a tone of ecstacy. " I sliall be no more 
 the Italian; the American to be I am resolved." 
 
 " Pray, Signer, when did you arrive at this sudden 
 resolve ?" asked Miss Bannemead, encouragingly. 
 
 " Since when here I came, and met with you," he 
 answered, in a soft musical voice. 
 
 " Ah, indeed. You flatter me ; but I shall not 
 credit your declaration until I hear of your naturaliza- 
 tion, and that takes five long years." 
 
 " The citizen to be you shall see ! I am delighted 
 with this conn tree, and with you." 
 
 " And what of the Signorina ? Will she, too, 
 become an American ?" 
 
 " Oh, the Godardo? I not can tell. That is not 
 for me to tell, for I know not. What to do she, is 
 nought to me ; what to do I, is nought to her." 
 
 "Why, you brought her here, so she told me; and 
 surely you must have some concern for each other's 
 actions." 
 
 " Not ; Signorina Godardo is the cantatrice, tlie 
 artista, and to her art belongs. She came here to 
 engage in her profession for livelihood, but I have no 
 control over her actions." 
 
 " Did you not bring her over the sea ?" 
 
 "No; she came to fulfill her engagement, and 
 belongs to the maestro the management. In the 
 same ship sailed I ; that is all."
 
 TANCREDI. Ill 
 
 " But you accompanied her to this city." 
 
 11 The minister is my friend, and he honor me with 
 politeness to attend the reception of the cantatrice, his 
 illustrious country woman her introduction to the 
 American public." 
 
 The Banneinead carriage was announced, when the 
 father and daughter were driven away. Tancredi 
 politely saw them off, and he stood gazing after them 
 until the coach was lost in the gloom of the distant 
 street. 
 
 " Michele," said some one in a low voice near him. 
 
 He turned and saw the Godardo watching him. 
 
 " Order our carriage," said the woman. 
 
 They were driven to their hotel, where they retired 
 to their rooms. The woman was sulky, and the man 
 sullen. A storm in Italian was brewing between the 
 two companions. Let us contemplate the sighs and 
 tears as they might appear to Italian eyes and ears. 
 
 " Thy devotion is not so constant on this side the 
 ocean, Signor," said the woman, as she fretfully pulled 
 at her gloves in removal. 
 
 " Devotion ! My presence in this strange country, 
 where I have neither business nor pleasure except to be 
 with and serve you, attests my devotion," replied the 
 man, in a wounded tone, as he quietly removed hat 
 and cloak. 
 
 "Was it serving me to neglect me all through the
 
 112 TANCREDI. 
 
 tedious evening, and bestow your gallantries on Miss 
 Bannemead?" 
 
 " I was considerate of your interests. It would 
 have been in bad taste for me to monopolize you, when 
 I saw you in demand. You were brought here, not to 
 meet me, but the American public. Surely you will 
 not complain of any lack of attention shown you !" 
 
 "It is not long since you were furious if you did 
 not have me all to yourself ; but now " 
 
 " But now ! How it would read in the papers, 
 the cantatrice was monopolized all evening by an 
 Italian nobleman ! These Americans are so different 
 from Europeans ; they are so prudent, so hospitable, 
 so circumspect, that I believed I was showing you a 
 kindness by leaving you free in their society." 
 
 " Yes ; you left me to their grating ings and ouscs 
 all evening." 
 
 " You must learn their language." 
 
 " But not their manners. Do you think Miss 
 Bannemead beautiful ?" 
 
 " She looks like you." 
 
 " Only she is larger, you would say. You have 
 often piqued me on my littleness; does her size please 
 you better ?" 
 
 " Miss Bannemead is a queen ; you are a fairy 
 my own fairy." 
 
 " Men admire fairies, but they never love them.
 
 TANCREDI. 113 
 
 They laugh at fairies, but pay their homage to 
 queens." 
 
 " Yes, to fairy queens. You are my fairy and my 
 queen, and to you I pay my homage." 
 
 The little lady, evidently well pleased at the 
 flattery the flattery spoken so low and soft and musi- 
 cal, came and stood beside him and peered into his 
 attractive face. 
 
 "We start for New York to-morrow," she said, 
 satisfied to change the subject. " On Monday evening 
 comes my debut, and on the following Saturday you 
 sail for home. I want to have you with me all the 
 time till you go away." 
 
 She sat on a low stool at his feet, and leaned caress- 
 ingly on his knees, as a tired child clings to its 
 friend. 
 
 " Rosetta, I shall not return with you to New 
 York. I will meet you there on Monday and be pres- 
 ent at your debut." 
 
 The child unclasped its hands from the support, 
 and sprang to its feet enraged. 
 
 " Not going back with me to New York ! May I 
 ask why ?" 
 
 " You may ask." 
 
 " Nay, I know why ; you remain to visit the 
 Baimemead."
 
 114 TANCREDI. 
 
 " Wrong ; she returned to Philadelphia on the 
 night express." 
 
 " Tell me, then, why you wish to remain ?" 
 
 " You have heard me speak of a friend who resides 
 in Philadelphia. I remain over to visit him, and shall 
 visit him to-morrow." 
 
 " And me why may I not accompany you ?" 
 
 " It is not necessary. I would be absent from you 
 all the time while there, leaving you to mope at a 
 strange hotel. You must return to New York to 
 attend your rehearsals ; for you know the maestro 
 only brought you here to advertise you, and you must 
 return with him in the morning." 
 
 "I know ! I know !" exclaimed the woman, walk- 
 ing to the mirror and viewing herself therein. " Miss 
 Bannemead lives in Philadelphia." 
 
 " She does ; what of that 2" 
 
 " You go there to visit her," she exclaimed, turn- 
 ing fiercely upon him her marvelous black eyes gleam- 
 ing with jealousy. She went to the window and stood 
 looking out at the ragged clouds wind-tossed in the 
 cold moonlight. How different from the warm fleecy 
 clouds floating in the soft skies of Italy ! 
 
 " Michele," she said, after a long silence. "You 
 wished to return home by this week's steamer ; I per- 
 suaded you to stay for my debut." 
 
 " Yes ; well, why do you speak of it now i"
 
 TANCREDI. 115 
 
 " You may start home this week, and I'll return 
 with you." 
 
 " I shall not leave America for some time ; 1 am 
 thinking of remaining here permanently." 
 
 " That is sudden !" she exclaimed, in a low voice, 
 but with suppressed astonishment. She came again 
 and stood before him. 
 
 "Did the Banuemead so soon induce you to 
 renounce your country for hers? And is it for that 
 siren you so readily fall in love with this barbarous 
 people ! Oh, for shame !" 
 
 " How absurd ! What puts such wild fancies in 
 your head ?" 
 
 " Come here !" she said, taking him by the hand, 
 and half-leading, half-dragging him to the window. 
 " Michele, look out at that sky. See the clouds torn 
 and drifting before the cruel winds! How cold and 
 black and broken they look as they sweep in anger out 
 on the desolate sea ! They are flying away from these 
 cold shores to our own sunny clime, where they will 
 melt into fleeces as soft and warm as my love for thee. 
 Let us leave with the clouds these cold skies, and 
 follow them to our own glad, bright Italia !" 
 
 >4 'Kosetta, what is the matter with thee to-night?" 
 
 " Oh, I cannot tell ! 1 wish I never had come to 
 America. I wish I was back in dear Italy. I feel so 
 lonely here. Everything and everybody is so cold
 
 116 TANCREDI. 
 
 and strange. Thou art not so tender ; everybody 
 seems to draw thee away from me. If I thought 
 thou art to be won by that Bannemead I would kill 
 her !" 
 
 The disconsolate woman threw herself on the 
 floor, where her sobs told how violent and dangerous 
 she might become, if driven hard. Tancredi saw the 
 menacing danger, and assuaged the stricken woman.
 
 TANCREDI. 117 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 " Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, 
 Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned." 
 
 ROSETTA GODARDO \vas, as lias already been indi- 
 cated, a professional soprana singer in Italian opera. 
 Though quite young she was already famous in the 
 capitals of Europe. A celebrated maestro had engaged 
 her to appear before the American public, which she 
 was expected to take by storm. The time was fixed 
 for her debut in New York. 
 
 Michele Tancredi and Rosetta Godardo were 
 natives of Naples, Italy. His infatuation for the fair 
 songstress had induced him to come to America. 
 Indeed, she would not come without him. He was 
 himself a most accomplished amateur musician, and he 
 possessed a voice of rare richness and power. Among 
 musicians he was reckoned a genius, and was held to 
 be an authority in matters relating to music and the 
 lyric stage. He was intensely Italian in taste and 
 style, doubtless because he was an Italian and 
 descended from ancestors noted for their musical 
 talent and their partialty to the Italian school. As he
 
 118 TANCKEDI. 
 
 had neither the inclination nor the necessity to go on 
 the stage, he contented himself with employing his 
 musical culture in swelling his already formidable 
 array of embellishments. 
 
 It was through his fondness of music, and his 
 familiarity with musicians, that he first became 
 acquainted with and then enamored of Rosetta. At 
 a charity concert given in his native city he sang with 
 her a duet, which created a sensation even in that land 
 of song. It was said by those who heard them that 
 their blended voices was as the singing of angels. 
 Fabulous was the sum offered him to appear with her 
 111 opera, an offer which he declined. He secured for 
 Rosetta a no less flattering offer, which she accepted. 
 From that time on he was her teacher, patron, lover 
 and companion. 
 
 The passion for each other was mutual. Her love 
 for him was of that intense, fiery character, peculiar 
 to southern blood. She would sit entranced under the 
 sound of his magnificent voice, and was never so 
 happy as when singing with him. Great arid glo- 
 rious might have been their career had he been poor, 
 obscure, or even ambitious. But alas for art, alas for 
 morals, and alas for the woman, he was rich, noble, 
 and void of ambition. 
 
 As with impulsive and emotional women, love to 
 Eosetta was more than the mating instinct, more than
 
 TANCREDI. 119 
 
 ambition ; it was a grand, absorbing passion, which led 
 reason captive, and thrust aside prudence and all 
 thought of the future. She was not exacting, but she 
 was jealous ; she was not imprudent, but she braved 
 all for him, and exclusively surrendered herself to the 
 luxury of lingering in the smiles of the man she 
 adored. 
 
 Never a woman loved man more madly than 
 Kosetta Godardo loved Michele Tancredi. It was not 
 the cautious, secret love of intrigue, but open, trans- 
 parent and defiant. So well was her passion known 
 that he was constantly consulted concerning her pro- 
 fessional engagements, and as much anxiety was felt 
 for his condition and whereabouts as for hers. More 
 than once she had disappointed the public because 
 Tancredi had disappointed her. If he was with her 
 she sang, if he was absent he was hurried on, and if 
 his arrival was not timely, there was no singing by 
 her. The public held her to be erratic and unreliable, 
 it was because she was true and steadfast to one 
 individual, and only one in all the world. 
 
 The knowledge of all this made him hesitate before 
 sending her back to New York without him, and 
 against her will. He therefore yielded, and consented 
 that she might stop over with him in Philadelphia, 
 while he made his proposed visit to his friend. 
 
 The truth is he was invited and had promised to
 
 120 TANCREUI. 
 
 pay a visit to the Bannemeads. He was sorely 
 annoyed to find that he could not call on his new 
 acquaintance without a jealous mistress at his heels. 
 For the first time he began to chafe at her importun- 
 ate surveillance, and to sigh for that freedom so often 
 vainly coveted by the roue tangled in the toils of his 
 own indiscretions. From that time on his longing and 
 study was to shake off the thralldom, which, at first so 
 delightful, was now become so galling and embarrass- 
 ing. 
 
 The two companions went to Philadelphia. By 
 strategy, he succeeded in escaping from the clutches 
 of the Signorina, and in making his call on Miss 
 Bannemead. 
 
 That lady was at home, but if she expected him, 
 she was artful enough to effectually conceal it. The 
 tact and coolness which had made her so successful as 
 the coquette, placed her at once at a familiar ease in 
 the presence of the Signer. She received him as she 
 might an old acquaintance. The inward truth, which 
 she so well concealed, was that she felt highly grati- 
 fied at the distinguished acquaintance and his prompt- 
 ness in paying court to her. 
 
 In the dreamy atmosphere of the new charmer the 
 glad hours flew by unheeded by the Italian. His 
 attention was profound, his deference broad, and his 
 devotion sublime ; his behaviour filled space in all
 
 TANCREDI. 121 
 
 directions. He would have wooed, but the lady, true 
 to her ruling passion, was not ready to be won. It 
 was present joy enough to feel sure of conquest, for 
 ambition had made the calculation and settled that it 
 should be a conquest. 
 
 A servant hastily entered the room, but before he 
 could speak, a woman glided past him and stood glar- 
 ing at them in imminent wrath. It was the Godardo. 
 
 A wordy encounter took place between her and her 
 renegade lover. As it was carried on in the Italian 
 tongue, Miss Bannemead was spared the patent mor- 
 tification of knowing that she was the provoking cause 
 of the quarrel. But she knew it all the same. 
 
 The cantatrice marched away with her recalcitrant 
 lover to the hotel, where the conflict must have con- 
 tinued, for the result was her throwing up the engage- 
 ment with the opera agent. She refused to even talk 
 of going on the stage. 
 
 Tancredi, driven to the wall, now blazed forth and 
 demanded immediate and unconditional separation. 
 His tenderness for her was turned to fear and hate. 
 But it was all the same to the maddened woman. 
 The more he repelled, the closer she clung, until, 
 worn out with entreaty and threatening, he took her 
 with him to New York, where they settled down like 
 two hostile armies after a drawn battle. 
 
 So far the woman had the better of it, for, while 
 6
 
 122 TANCREDI. 
 
 he refused to return with her to Italy, she as persis- 
 tently refused to be separated from him. 
 
 At the end of a week's seige, this was the position 
 in which Trancredi found himself. 
 
 He was in a new country and in love with a new 
 woman. But the woman of his old love was not 
 shaken off, nor was the prospect for getting rid of her 
 flattering. Rosetta persisted in refusing to fulfill her 
 operatic engagement, and it was cancelled, leaving 
 her entirely on his hands. She would not return 
 home without him, she would not stay if he went, she 
 would not be separated from him. Concerning this 
 point she swore in her fierce way that she might die, 
 but compromise, never. 
 
 What was he to do? He had tried entreaty, 
 exhausted strategy, bankrupted threats ; she outwitted 
 and outbraved them all. 
 
 Should he fly from her? This was practicable, 
 but there were many reasons why he should not. She 
 was a woman, a stranger in the land, and well nigh 
 penniless. She had ventured abroad on his promise 
 of protection. Roue though he was, he still retained 
 a business sense of honor, and felt the binding force 
 of his commercial obligations to her. 
 
 She was a woman, violent and perverse it was true, 
 but she loved him how much none knew better than 
 he. Intriguer though he was, his heart retained the
 
 TAXCKEDI. 123 
 
 memory of its bygone tenderness when she alone filled 
 its chorded chambers. 
 
 She was a woman, scorned and at bay, and the 
 observant voluptuary knew well what was in her 
 heart, ; she had murder there for him, mischief for 
 herself. She was a blind Samson who could, and, if 
 driven to despair, would, pull love's temple down in 
 one promiscuous ruin about his head. 
 
 At the then present time Tancredi dreaded scandal, 
 and leaving Rosetta Godardo by flight meant scandal. 
 He had transferred his affection to the charming 
 Bannemead, and scandal would utterly destroy his 
 aspirations in that quarter. His love for her, or His 
 manifestation of the same, was the cause of his present 
 dilemma, and whatever he might suffer, or what other 
 risks he might run, were as nothing compared to the 
 importance of keeping his intrigue with the cantatrice 
 from the public. Miss Bannemead must not know of 
 the liaison, come what might. If he harshly dissolved 
 his relations with the Godardo, the public, and through 
 it the Philadelphia belle, would discover the whole 
 story. If he sought refuge in flight it would cost him 
 his new love adventure. He was too deeply infatuated 
 with Alice Bannemead to turn away from her forever. 
 He would stay and conquer destiny. He would con- 
 ciliate Rosetta, and trust to time and chance to favor 
 his ambition.
 
 124 TANCREDI. 
 
 Accordingly lie seemingly succumbed to the 
 entreaties of the earnest woman, and began treating 
 her with Lis wonted consideration. He established her 
 in a cottage in a suburb of New York, and himself 
 lodged at a hotel.
 
 TANCREDI. 125 
 
 ' CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 " Thy love is lust, thy friendship all a cheat, 
 Thy smiles hypocrisy and thy words deceit." 
 
 WAS Rosetta Godardo insane ? 
 
 Emotionally her miud was jangling and out of 
 tune, because of jealousy. Is a mind in such a state 
 sane? 
 
 She had never held a check on her passions, she 
 never tried to control her emotions. She allowed her 
 fancy and feelings to run away with reason, and she 
 knew of nothing, had nothing, to curb them into 
 restraint. Jealousy absorbed her being when love was 
 driven out. Is jealousy a form of insanity ? 
 
 In a degree it is, for jealousy is unreason, unreason- 
 ing, and unreasonable. It is ever attempting to 
 coerce unwilling love love that will not be coerced ; 
 and jealousy never acts from a rational motive. 
 These are traits of insanity. 
 
 Hatred or love, scorn or respect, contempt or 
 esteem, may be felt, one or the other, and one at a 
 time, and by one sane person for another person ; but 
 it is only the jealous or insane who can feel all and
 
 126 TANCREDI. 
 
 practice all at the same time toward one and the same 
 individual. 
 
 A jealous woman should not be despised, but 
 pitied ; not abused, but petted. She is a woman 
 emotionally insane. Her disease demands treatment. 
 If she is neglected, worse may follow she may become 
 mentally deranged. 
 
 The Italian prima donna was a monomaniac, but 
 her paramour guessed it not. To him she was a per- 
 verse and ungrateful woman. His mistake was worse 
 than insanity it was criminal. 
 
 He detailed two of his servants to wait on her, and 
 spared no expense to make her abode comfortable. 
 One day, a servant brought word that she was acting 
 strangely, and begged him to visit her. lie went. 
 
 She welcomed him with all her old tenderness, and 
 began at once to talk of Italian scenes, of orange 
 groves and sunny skies, and song, and home life, as 
 though they were back in their old land she loved so 
 well. It was evident that she was delirious. She was 
 dressed out in one of her stage costumes and talked 
 of the opera in which she believed she was to appear. 
 Her eyes had in them a strange glitter, and her cheeks 
 were dusky with the fires of fever. 
 
 " I want you to hear me sing," she said to him in 
 her native tongue. " Oh, I'll surprise you ! I'm sure 
 you'll be proud of me to-night ! And don't forget the
 
 TANCREDI. 127 
 
 flowers ; mine must be the prettiest and the sweetest. 
 But I must sing for you. No, they call me ; that is 
 my cue ! Stand there !" 
 
 " You'll hear it at night, 
 "When the moon shineth bright, 
 You'll hear it at dawn, 
 In the gray twilight ; 
 Though none knew its minstrel, 
 Or how it came there. 
 Listen ! Listen I 
 'Tis the harp in the air! 
 
 " It telleth of joys that are faded and gone, 
 It tells of a knight, 
 Of a Moorish maid, 
 Of a broken plight 
 And a heart betrayed. 
 There! There! 
 List, pilgrim, list ! 'Tis the harp in the air I" 
 
 "No words can fittingly describe the wild pathos, 
 the air of tender desolateness, the wailing despair of 
 the poor creature as she poured forth the song to her 
 false lover. It was the fitting requiem of a broken 
 heart. The proud man bowed his head and wept like 
 a child at the contemplation of the fair ruins the 
 damnable work of his treachery. 
 
 The sight of the stricken woman wrung his heart 
 with remorse, and he resolved then and there to make 
 every reparation within his power. He dispatched 
 for medical aid, and resorted to every approved means
 
 138 TANCREDI. 
 
 to serve her and restore her to health and reason. He 
 visited her daily, and was in every way concerned for 
 her welfare. After many anxious days, the fever 
 abated, and the weighted brain once again lighted up 
 with intelligence. He rejoiced at her hopeful 
 improvement, and at that critical time would gladly 
 have quitted with her the New World forever. 
 
 But as the patient slowly progressed toward con- 
 valescence his remorse began to wane, until at length 
 it was felt only as a hateful dream. By the time con- 
 valescence was fully established his inclination to 
 repair the wrong done her was gone, and he began to 
 sigh for that gay world wherein he had been so bril- 
 liant a reveller. When remorse was dead truant 
 ambition arose from its grave, and visions of the be- 
 witching Bannemead floated before his imagination. 
 
 Soon after the physician had pronounced Eosctta 
 out of danger, he found himself in Philadelphia. Of 
 course his visit there was on account of his friend and 
 fellow countryman who lived in that city ; but how 
 natural it was to think of Miss Bannemead while in 
 such mesmeric proximity to her dwelling, and how 
 excusable for him to reason out his duty to call upon 
 her. Common etiquette required no less, he thought ; 
 indeed his abrupt and unceremonious departure from 
 beneath her roof made it in a sense obligatory on him
 
 TANCREDI. 129 
 
 to visit her and make honorable amends for his dis- 
 courteous conduct. 
 
 He was admitted to the lady's presence. 
 
 A less assured or less experienced inamorata "would 
 have felt and probably shown embarrassment on enter- 
 ing the presence of his lady love under such unpleasant 
 circumstances. Even this veteran, who had managed 
 many affairs of the heart victoriously, was distrustful of 
 his courage, and inwardly trembled with anxiety at 
 his possible reception. He never met with so decided 
 a rebuff as at the hands of the spirited American lady. 
 While it is true her scorn and haughtiness did not 
 ruffle a single feather of the chevalier, yet he was 
 annoyed and chagrined. And yet he rather enjoyed 
 the exhibition of American pluck ; it was a new sensa- 
 tion to him. Seldom was opposition shown him, for 
 he ever swam the tide of smooth, easy conquest. Here 
 was a beauty who disputed his supremacy, but her 
 hauteur only irritated his vanity, and aroused his 
 determination to conquer the arrogant woman. 
 
 " I am surprised, Signor," she said with disdainful 
 voice arid flushed cheeks, "painfully surprised that 
 you should attempt to renew an acquaintance so scan- 
 dalously interrupted when last you honored me with a 
 visit. I flattered myself with the belief that yon 
 would spare me the mortification of recalling that dis- 
 6*
 
 ISO TANCREDI. 
 
 graceful scene. Your presence is exceedingly unpleas- 
 ant to me." 
 
 " JPerdono mea, Miss Bannemead ; but your servant 
 tell me you are at home. Did lie mistake, or did you ? 
 The mistake is not by me. He tell me you are at 
 home and bring me here." 
 
 The lady blushed at being reminded of her awk- 
 ward, if not inconsisted behavior, for being at home 
 meant tacit and voluntary permission given the Signer 
 to visit her. She had given him audience at her own 
 option, she could not dispute that fact, and could only 
 bite her lips at being detected in so palpable a blunder. 
 She was compelled to blame herself, even if she could 
 not pardon him. 
 
 " Since you are here, Signer, I shall indulge you so 
 far as to hear your explanation of the extraordinary 
 scene which took place in this roo'm at your late visit," 
 she embarrassingly replied. 
 
 " What shall I explain ?" 
 
 " Explain away the wrong you did me, if you can." 
 
 " Good heavens ? Miss Bannemead ; hear I what ! 
 "Wronged you ! How ? Speak ! See the apology at 
 thy feet !" exclaimed the Italian, kneeling before her, 
 with his hand over his heart, and contrition limned 
 over his handsome features. 
 
 "Do you pretend ignorance of the offense to
 
 TANCREDI. 131 
 
 which I refer ?" she asked, unmoved by his tragic 
 repentance. 
 
 " Ignorant ! Yes, Madame, ignorant ! How could 
 I knowingly offend where I worship ?" 
 
 " Then, Sir, make no attempt to explain, since yon 
 are unconscious of having committed an offense. Rise, 
 Sir ; you mock me !" 
 
 She was now thoroughly angry. She turned from 
 him in disdain, and stood by the window gazing 
 abstractedly out on the street. 
 
 "Oh, now to see, I begin! You speak of the 
 intrusion the child the Godardo into this house, 
 when last I had the honor of calling on you? Is it 
 that?" 
 
 " Your memory begins to serve you," she replied, 
 contemptuously, without turning from the window. 
 
 "And that the offense is?" 
 
 "Is not that sufficient cause for offense?" 
 
 "Perdono mea, no. It misunderstood by you, 
 and your resentment comes by that. It makes me 
 much satisfaction when you permit me explain the 
 mistake ; which I can do which I will do ; for am I 
 not right to make myself heard where BO evil I am 
 judged?" 
 
 " I shall not prevent you from explaining," she 
 coldly answered, still looking out the window. 
 
 " Signorina came here to make complaint of the
 
 132 TANCREDI. 
 
 command, of the insult, which she receive from the 
 manager ordering her to go instantly to New York. 
 She not like that. She not used to be ordered about 
 like the slave. She very angree ; and she come to me. 
 She know where I was I tell her that. What she 
 tell me make me very angree, too, for the poor girl. 
 We both furious, and we abuse the tyrant, the maes- 
 tro, in your presence. That why she came so sudden ; 
 that why we depart so unceremonious." 
 
 She had turned away from the window while he 
 was delivering his explanation, and looked at him with 
 a quizzical expression made up of scorn and admira- 
 tion scorn at his falsity, admiration at his ingenuity 
 and audacity. Mephistopheles was no longer a myth. 
 
 Did she believe him? And did she accept his 
 statement as true ? To the credit of her head she 
 believed not a word ; to the discredit of her moral 
 sense she accepted his statement as the true and sat- 
 isfactory explanation. 
 
 And, after all, what was he or his quarrels to her? 
 
 His baseness and brazenness deserved punishment, 
 and the punishment that would mortify him most, 
 would be to encourage him raise his hopes to the 
 clouds and then dash them on the rocks. This proud, 
 presuming man must have a fall, and such a fall as 
 would knock all egotism out of him. 
 
 On her velvet specimen tablet was just room
 
 TANCREDI. ,133 
 
 enough for one more moth, and this gilded butterfly 
 must be pinioned there. 
 
 "Your explanation is entirely satisfactory, and I 
 absolve you from all blame," she said, extending her 
 hand and smiling forgiveness on the enraptured noble- 
 man. 
 
 He gracefully kissed the hand and received his 
 absolution with joy. 
 
 " And the Signorina, she did not appear in opera, 
 as announced ; may I ask why ?" 
 
 " She not used to the tyrant, the maestro. His 
 treatment she not can stand. She go cancel the 
 engagement." 
 
 "I hear she is ill; is it true?" 
 
 " I know not. She back to Italy gone. She sing 
 never in this countree." 
 
 " And you ? You did not return with her to Italy ? " 
 
 " Why should I ? This is my countree. Here I 
 stay, for here my queen I find." 
 
 The tete-d-tete on this occasion was not interrupted. 
 Their talk was common-place, on safe subjects the 
 weather, the crops, kindred topics, and therefore 
 harmless. The Signor was inclined to be amorously 
 demonstrative, but the lady suppressed his ardor, and 
 led him gently back to and along the more prosy path 
 so well beaten by people of small talk. Their maudlin 
 vocal essences are not attempted here ; such colloquies
 
 134 TANCREDI 
 
 are more difficult to reproduce than Newton's calculus, 
 orKeplar's Laws ; besides their narration would destroy 
 the harmony of this book, which is Love without 
 Labor. 
 
 The long tedious convalescence of Rosetta was to 
 Tancredi the golden opportunity, which he cultivated 
 industriously and successfully. One day found him 
 in the sick chamber of his mistress, the next at the 
 feet of the Bannemead. 
 
 His passion for the latter increased on acquaint- 
 ance, and presently became so all absorbing that he 
 made a formal declaration of his love, and begged her 
 hand in marriage. This prayer remained unanswered 
 for some time. 
 
 Theodore Bannemead had made the necessary in- 
 quiries into Tancredi's antecedents and had found 
 them highly satisfactory. But still the daughter pro- 
 crastinated the answer from day to day. One day she 
 would be cold or exacting, sullen or stormy, the next 
 she would be affable, even tender, and drive her lover 
 mad with her smiles. She was an enigma to him, but 
 none the less adorable. Her very whims and moods 
 were charming, and even her imperious tyrannies 
 tightened and strengthened the chain that enslaved him. 
 
 Her initial plan contemplated the elation of his 
 hopes heavenward, followed by the sudden clash 
 toward the other extreme; but she hesitated to
 
 TANCREDI. 135 
 
 carry out that plan, now that the crisis had come. 
 Jilting lovers, after luring them on to a pro- 
 posal, had become such a habit with her, that she 
 almost ached to see how wretched and crestfallen this 
 noble lover would be by the declination of his pro- 
 posal. 
 
 The time was ripe for springing the trap ; the Ital- 
 ian's downfall must be immediate or never. But she 
 hesitated, and the woman who hesitates is in love. 
 
 Her feelings and designs in relation to Tancredi 
 were modified since the day she resolved to entice him, 
 none knew how better than she, but she was not clear 
 about the part where the ruin came in. His dis- 
 tinguished appearance, seductive manners, noble birth, 
 exalted station, and, last and greatest of all, his devo- 
 tion to her, had jointly combined to weave about her a 
 web, which for strength would have astonished her 
 had she attempted to hurl him on the metaphorical 
 rocks suggested by her vengeance. 
 
 He had danced attendance at her court, had been 
 her gallant at fashionable assemblages, had been 
 patient, delicate, zealous, and in every way exemplary. 
 She could not help admiring him. Her father was 
 pronounced in his liking for the man, the fashionable 
 world held them betrothed lovers, other moths had 
 forsaken her shrine and blazed at other altars, her 
 friends held it a splendid mutch. In brief, pride, con-
 
 136 TANCREDI. 
 
 venience, and ambition sanctioned the union of her 
 destiny with that of the Italian. She concluded to 
 procrastinate no longer ; she made up her mind to 
 accept the hand of Michele Tancredi. 
 
 Arrived at this conclusion, she discovered that she 
 liked him better than she did any one else ; as much 
 as a woman ought to like any man. 
 
 It was aji afternoon in the middle of March. The 
 Signor was seated in the company of Miss Bannemead 
 at her home on Walnut Street. 
 
 " This horrid weather 1" exclaimed Tancredi, eye- 
 ing with dismay the single speck of mud on his imma- 
 culate boots. " At Naples, there is no frost, no mud. 
 There the trees are in bloom, and the people are rest- 
 ing in the shade of the olives." 
 
 "Don't you wish you were in Naples at this 
 moment?" asked Miss Bannemead, laughing at his 
 anno} T ance. 
 
 " Shall I say it ? Yes, with you." 
 
 He took her hand and pressed it to his lips 
 
 " Oh, I would prefer Venice to Naples. I have 
 heard so much of the gondoliers and their romantic 
 songs I could float all day in the bright sunlight, or 
 under the cool shadows of the marble palaces, and drink 
 in the songs of the boatmen. And O ! what moon- 
 light must be in the City of the Sea !" 
 
 "But Naples ! You should see rny Naples ! Ah,
 
 TANCREDI. 137 
 
 my darling, the sun shines brighter there, the moon- 
 light falls softer there ! And the boatmen's songs on 
 the bay ! How shall I make you hear their music ? 
 But one way there is to take you there. O, give me 
 my bright, glorious Naples and you ! It shall be 
 when ? Don't make me longer the miserable ! Name 
 the happy day." 
 
 " For your departure to Naples ?" 
 
 " Yes; accompanied by my queen, my wife." 
 
 " What ! To remain there always !" 
 
 " To remain where you will, so I am with yon. 
 Wherever you are most happy, there also shall be my 
 happiness." 
 
 " And you won't insist on keeping me in Italy one 
 day longer than is agreeable to me ?" 
 
 "Certainly not, my darling." 
 
 " That is kind of you, for I love my own dear 
 Philadelphia as fondly as you love your Naples. My 
 home must ever be here." 
 
 " And here shall be my -home, if it best pleases 
 you." 
 
 " You agree then that I shall be allowed to dwell 
 in this city as long as I wish." 
 
 " To that I agree." 
 
 " Then, there's my hand. It is yours in Phila- 
 delphia." 
 
 " It is mine all over the world ! By it I lead you
 
 138 TANCREDI. 
 
 to visit ray Italy, my Naples, and, if it pleases you. 
 Venice too." 
 
 " O yes, I shall be delighted. We'll make the 
 grand tour, of course." 
 
 "Shall it be when? The April that is to 
 come ?" 
 
 " That is too soon. April is a tearful month." 
 
 "April .too sudden and too sad? Then May? 
 Sure that a sweet month." 
 
 "Hike June better." 
 
 " Oh ! You like June better ? So do I. Shall it 
 be June ? Shall we be married in June ?" 
 
 " Yes ; there, I have said it ; does it suit you ?" 
 
 "Does heaven suit me? Does it suit me the 
 angel, the best angel there ?" 
 
 The lovers joined hands and put their heads 
 together to perfect the details of the grand event. 
 
 The next day found him in the presence of Rosetta 
 Godardo. 
 
 " How well the roses aie coming back to thy 
 cheeks, pretty one !" he said in Italian. 
 
 " I rejoice to hear thee say so. But art thou in 
 right earnest, and look I so well ? Berta, bring me 
 my mirror ; I must see if thou mocks' t me," replied 
 Rosetta, pleased at his notice and encouragement. 
 
 She turned the small glass about, viewing herself
 
 TANCREDI. 130 
 
 therein with such a woe-begone expression that the 
 maid out of pity took the mirror from her hand. 
 
 " My prettincss is coming back slowly, very slowly, 
 and I fear me some of it will tarry on the way." 
 
 " Foolish Rosetta ? It will return with more 
 bloom than ever." 
 
 " Believest thou so ? I wish it for thy sake. 
 Michele, dos't ever hear of the Bannemead ?" 
 
 "No, my little one; she is in thy thoughts; why 
 is she there ?" 
 
 " 1 feel that she must be handsomer than ever, 
 since it was she who stole my beauty." 
 
 " What a superstitious child it is ! What put such 
 absurd fancies into thy head ?" 
 
 " Dos't think I grow stronger every day ?" 
 
 " Nay, I am sure. Thou wilt soon be strong 
 enough to ride out with me." 
 
 " O, what joy ! Strong enough to ride out, and 
 with thee ! What joy." 
 
 " Yes, my little beauty, with me." 
 
 " Then it will not be long until we shall sail for 
 our own dear, warm, bright Italia. Oh, what joy !"
 
 140 TANCREDI. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 " For never, I swear by ray mistress whom I revere most of 
 all, and have chosen for my assistant, Hecate, who dwells in the 
 inmost recesses of my house, shall any one of them wring my 
 heart with grief with impunity." EURIPIDES. 
 
 TANCKEDI led two lives ; one for the Godardo, the 
 other for Banneraead. Both lives were successful, 
 reckoned from the standpoint of his motive. His 
 motive was Satanic. His object was to deceive both 
 women, and he succeeded. 
 
 He was more completely successful in deluding the 
 Godardo, at least his treachery wounded her deepest. 
 His double dealing with her was the more flagrant and 
 heinous, because she was more entitled to good treat- 
 ment. His treatment of her should have been the 
 best ; he gave her the worst. He should have been 
 true to her, although he was false to all the world 
 besides. She lived in and on his faith it was Punic 
 Faith. 
 
 Godardo's love for him was superlative, yet he 
 elected her to be cheated, and robbed and broken. 
 The love the other woman bore him scarcely deserved 
 the name ; her attachment was recent, and the result
 
 TANCREDI. 141 
 
 of pride and ambition, yet he laid at her feet the offer- 
 ing of a noble name, he surrendered to her his heart 
 and hand. 
 
 Godardo continued to languish for months, and it 
 was the glad summer time before she was strong 
 enough to ride out in the open air. As convalescence 
 became more fully established she took deeper interest 
 in her lover's behavior, and grew more exacting of his 
 time and attention. His more and more infrequent 
 and hurried visits were noticed and commented on by 
 her, but the wrecked woman was powerless to actively 
 molest him. 
 
 He trembled as he watched her grow strong, and 
 as the flush of returning health crept over her cheeks, 
 the ashen hue of dread grew on his brown face. He 
 realized fully what would be the reckoning should his 
 perfidy become known to her. His hope had been, as 
 were his efforts, to prevent her from learning of his 
 visits to his affianced. So far he had been successful. 
 If he could only keep her ignorant for a brief time 
 he would be married, with the sea between him and 
 her wrath. Even in this he almost succeeded. 
 
 He had now been married a week, and yet was no 
 further on his voyage than New York. The sudden 
 and unexpected death of his wife's aunt on the day 
 after the wedding, had delayed the trip abroad, and 
 the time for departure was postponed two weeks.
 
 142 TANCREDI. 
 
 One more week of suspense and dread, at the end 
 of which, if .Rosetta could be kept at home, he would 
 be on shipboard moving away from her anger. The 
 ashy hue of dread deepened on his dusky face. 
 
 His trusty servant, Berta, Eosetta's maid, had been 
 instructed to keep a close surveillance over the sick 
 woman, and prevent her from seeing the newspapers, 
 which were filled with accounts of the marriage in 
 high life. 
 
 How she evaded them none knew, but she did dis- 
 cover that the marriage had been consummated, and 
 then, oh, then ! 
 
 Ocean storms and desert simoons have been so 
 graphically delineated with pen and pencil that one 
 almost feels the earth tremble under the fury of the 
 maddened elements. What pen can describe the 
 storm that swept over this forsaken woman, what 
 pencil portray the simoon that plowed across the 
 desert of her life? As she loved, blindly, furiously, 
 so did she rage, now that love was dead. The poet 
 who wrote 
 
 " Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, 
 Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned," 
 
 must have felt the wrath of a jilted woman. 
 
 The well-disciplined Berta 'gave Tancredi timely 
 warning of the raging storm, and he kept under
 
 TANCREDI. 143 
 
 shelter. Rosetta sent for him, but he came not ; when 
 she started out to hunt him down, wearing a stage 
 dagger, his gift, in her emaciated bosom. 
 
 Failing to find him in New York she visited Phil- 
 adelphia. Gone to New York, the domestics told her, 
 and back to that city hied the human sleuthhound. 
 She visited the hotels during the day, and wandered 
 among the theatres at night, seeking her prey. The 
 pretty woman with eyes like a wild beast's attracted 
 notice wherever she went, but none learned her name 
 or her errand. One evening a woman fainted in 
 Niblo's Garden Theatre, and she was carried into the 
 adjoining hotel. It was the Godardo. 
 
 On the next day a party of ladies and gentlemen 
 were assembled in the same hotel to say ~bon voyage to 
 Signer Tancredi and his wife, who were to sail for 
 Europe that day. In the midst of the salutations and 
 farewells a veiled woman entered the room and stood 
 unnoticed among the guests, until she raised a glitter- 
 ing dagger and struck the bridegroom a vicious blow. 
 The ladies screamed, the gentlemen caught the assas- 
 sin's arm and tore away her veil, revealing to the 
 astonished group the haggard face of the Italian canta- 
 trice. 
 
 Madame Tancredi saw and recognized that terrible 
 face, and fainted away. The Godardo was thrust 
 from the room, The Signer would not wait to have
 
 144 TANCREDI. 
 
 his arm dressed, but ordered his servants to bear his 
 unconscious wife to the carriage in waiting ; when 
 they were rapidly driven to the pier, where they 
 embarked on the steamer. 
 
 He instructed the officers of the ship to prevent 
 the ingress of a women whose personal appearance he 
 described. A lookout was kept for her, but she came 
 not. 
 
 As the falling darkness gathered over the Ameri- 
 can hills the good ship turned her prow toward the 
 open sea, and the Italian breathed free once more. 
 
 But the trouble with the other woman, who was 
 now his wife began, and it lasted for some time. The 
 Tancredi had a rough voyage ; it stormed without and 
 stormed within. The fainting fit of Madam went off in 
 hysterical sobs and tears. The guilt-stricken husband 
 kept out of her way, and each passed the first night of 
 the voyage in solitary and nauseous meditation. On the 
 following day the sea-sick and heart-sick man skulked 
 in convenient localities, where his wife found him to 
 eject on him the spleen of an injured woman. 
 
 " You led me to believe," she said to her husband, 
 " that you had given up that singing woman." 
 
 " So I believed ; but it is not so easy to throw Oh 
 dear ! this dreadful sea! Not so easy to throw off a 
 tiger when it fastens on you," he replied in a voice as 
 flabby as dough, and with the air of a martyr.
 
 TANCREDI. 145 
 
 " What authority, what power does she hold over 
 you? She must have some claim on you. She never 
 would follow and attempt to kill a man unless she had 
 suffered some wrong at his hands." 
 
 The husband was silent. 
 
 "Are you under obligations to her? Do you owe 
 her money ? Does she have any claim against you?" 
 
 "None whatever." 
 
 "Why then does she hunt you like a wild beast? 
 Do you merit her anger the anger that would kill ? 
 Why don't you answer me ? I must, I will know all 
 or the next ship takes me back to my father's pro- 
 tection." 
 
 " My dear wife, I am too sick to talk to tell you 
 all. Trust me till I am better. Your feelings are too 
 much for so trifling a cause." 
 
 "Is it a trifling affair when I see my husband 
 assaulted by a fierce woman a woman he brought to 
 America ? And is it a trifling affair when your wife 
 sees in it cause sufficient to renounce you forever 
 unless it is satisfactorily explained away ?" 
 
 " Why, she is only a singer ! She has no claim on 
 me at least no claim that would weigh in my 
 country. She demands no money, nor do I owe her 
 any. Her ambition is disappointed, but that is her 
 fanlt, not mine; she cancelled her engagement as 
 prima donna against my protest, and now she seeks to
 
 146 TANCREDI. 
 
 recover her place, and, I suppose, struck me for refus- 
 ing to aid her. I never promised to marry her, and 
 she never expected I would, for I am noble, while sne 
 is the artist and of obscure birth. Marriage with her 
 would have been impossible, even if I had never met 
 with you. I think she is crazy. You will likely never 
 hear of her again." 
 
 "You told me that she had gone to Italy. " 
 
 " So I then believed. Her appearance and actions 
 yesterday were as unexpected to me as to you." 
 
 " My impression is that you once loved this 
 woman, if you do not now." 
 
 " How much better and stronger I love you wit- 
 ness my giving her up for you," exclaimed Tancredi, 
 in that low, musical voice so peculiar to him, and so 
 effectual when pleading his cause. He kissed his 
 wife's hand as tenderly as the unsettled state of his 
 digestive organs would permit. 
 
 She was not thoroughly convinced of the honesty 
 of his statement, but she restrained her misgivings for 
 the time being, and a tolerable reconciliation followed 
 between herself and husband. 
 
 She had ever been accustomed to a life of ease, lei- 
 sure and frivolity, and yet neither her temperament or 
 her position in society warranted a life of indolence. 
 A haughty and independent self-reliant person, such 
 as she was, cannot be, and never is, lazy, Her natural
 
 TANCREDI. 147 
 
 pride and she was very proud dreaded scandal and 
 misery ; she therefore naturally inclined toward 
 objects and pursuits that were bright and joyous, and 
 in harmony with her fashionable life. She now 
 turned away from the hateful scene witnessed the day 
 before, and looked to the bright east where the sun 
 was to rise on her long wished for glory. Her long 
 cherished wish to marry into a noble and illustrious 
 family was now gratified, and she was about to enter 
 the charmed circle of European society, and realize its 
 famed pomp and grandeur. 
 
 Her husband was distinguished by birth, wealth 
 and personal attractions ; his conduct, so far as she 
 knew, hnd ever been characterized by gentleness and 
 honor ; his behavior towards her had been respectful 
 arid loving, without that gush that vapid billing and 
 cooing too common among her married acquaintances, 
 a practice she utterly despised. It was evident he 
 loved her and was proud of her beauty. 
 
 The pacific side of the question preponderated, and 
 she gradually yielded to the fascinations of ambition. 
 The newly-married pair landed on the shores of the 
 Old World with smiles on their lips and peace in their 
 hearts. 
 
 The first move made by the cautious Italian on 
 disembarking, was to institute such precautionary
 
 148 TANCKEDI. 
 
 measures as would prevent Rosetta Godardo from fol- 
 lowing him to Europe. 
 
 He now looked forward to a delightful honeymoon 
 among the gay capitals of the continent, where he num- 
 bered so many friends. His attractive wife would 
 certainly create a sensation in society, and meet with 
 deserved ovations, but the carnival must not be endan- 
 gered by a jealous mistress with a knife and vengeance 
 in her bosom. To keep her out of the way he wrote 
 full instructions to his trusty servant, Berta, the com- 
 panion and custodian of Rosetta. Berta was directed 
 to retain the cottage, induce the Signorina to stay 
 there, and draw on his banker for funds necessary to 
 maintain them in comfort. 
 
 That tragic affair off his mind, the homesick man 
 turned to Italy, from whence he had been exiled for 
 so many months. He started with his wife for 
 Naples.
 
 1ANCREDL 149 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 "Like ships that sailed for balmy isles, 
 
 But never came to shore ; 
 A ship that sailed o'er sunny seas, 
 Was never heard of more." 
 
 WHEN Rosetta Godardo was taken from the parlor 
 of the hotel at the time she attempted to assassinate 
 Tancredi, he had the presence of mind to dispatch in- 
 structions to Berta. By the time he was on board the 
 vessel, that faithful guardian had taken her mistress in 
 charge, and was on her way back to the cottage. 
 
 The reaction following her violence brought on 
 alarming prostration, and she was as passive as a child. 
 Her system, not yet fully recovered from the recent 
 illness, now gave way, and she suffered a dangerous 
 relapse. The fever fires were relighted, and the mind 
 once more wandered in the mazes of delirium. The 
 poor creature lay all powerless to follow her lover, too 
 delirious to even bestow on him a single malediction. 
 
 Berta was not the malevolent, cold-blooded crone 
 that her office would seem to indicate. Prudish peo- 
 ple will, doubtless, be swift to condemn her, and with 
 a degree of justice, but prudish people should know 
 exactly how much, and on what grounds to condemn
 
 150 TANCREDI. 
 
 her, lest they lose their reward the reward of having 
 done a worthy act from a worthy motive. A vicious 
 right is no more impossible with people of strong 
 prejudices, than is a virtuous wrong. That Berta may 
 have justice awarded her justice, neither more nor 
 less, it is necessary to be more explicit, and establish 
 her compound relation to Godardo and Tancredi. 
 
 She was about fifty years of age, had been all her 
 life a servant of the Tancredi family, and the favorite 
 maid of the late Signora, Michele's mother. She had 
 been so long and so intimately attached to the family 
 that she looked on it as her own. Its good was hers, 
 and the commands of the master her higher law. 
 
 By the master's orders she had entered the service 
 of Rosetta, and, as a high duty she never dreamed of 
 shirking, she remained at her post and obeyed all 
 instructions. She had been in the Signorina's service 
 ever since the intrigue began, now over four years. 
 During that time she had witnessed her master's 
 attachment for Rosetta, and she refused to believe else 
 than that he still loved her as ever, although he was 
 married to another. She knew that in Italy the 
 marriage de convenance was common among the male 
 members of the nobility, and she supposed that her 
 master had taken the right accorded him by usage. 
 
 She had learned to love Rosetta for her own self, 
 but there was nothing in that love incompatible with
 
 TANCREDI. 151 
 
 fealty to her master. Indeed, lie had always encour- 
 aged such affection by rewarding her for her zealous 
 and respectful attentions. Why should she not love 
 and continue to love Rosetta? Had not Tancredi, 
 even in his late trouble, manifested the most tender 
 solicitude for Rosetta's welfare ? 
 
 The relationship between the two women was really 
 more like that of easy and familiar companionship 
 than that of mistress and maid. Berta was old enough 
 to be Rosetta's mother, and, indeed, manifested much 
 of the concern for her that a mother would for her 
 daughter. When the child was wayward, she scolded 
 it ; when it was grieved, she consoled it ; and when it 
 was ill, she nursed it. Rosetta, on her part, with her 
 warm confiding nature, clung to her one female com- 
 panion with childlike trust and devotion. 
 
 Berta's conception of her duties in the premises 
 was thus predicated on a complex basis a basis too 
 hard for thin-skinned morals to rest on with comfort. 
 Her appreciation of duty, and her estimation of 
 morals, was no better or worse than the cause and 
 people she served. 
 
 She held first and foremost her fealty to her 
 master, who, she believed, could not be guilty of a 
 dishonorable action. Even if he had deserted Rosetta, 
 still he had rendered her quid pro quo. But he had 
 not deserted her; his attentions were but temporarily
 
 152 TANCREDI. 
 
 deflected from her and bestowed, as it were, on his 
 own family ; and she felt confident that sooner or later 
 he would wander back to the only woman he had ever 
 loved. At all events, he had not discarded her, as 
 proven by his appropriation of funds to keep her in 
 comfort. Her duty was plain ; she must guard and 
 console her charge until further orders. 
 
 Berta had been too long schooled amid the con- 
 venient profligacies of European society to feel any 
 compunctions at her position as the agent of a meretri- 
 cious alliance. The agent took her charge home from 
 the hotel, put it in bed, summoned the physician, and 
 took her place as nurse. The vital spark, which but 
 now glimmered low in its socket, almost gone out in 
 darkness forever, again began to glow with the pale 
 tint of returning convalescence, and the mind com- 
 menced feebly to reason. 
 
 "What did I, then, that thou should'st scold me 
 so, kind Berta ?" 
 
 " Thou did'st try to kill the master, child." 
 
 " But he deserved killing." 
 
 c< Say not so ! Would that punish him ? Would 
 that help thee ? Would killing him bring him back to 
 thee ?" 
 
 " But he has betrayed me." 
 
 "JSTay, he loves thee yet ; I'll be bound !" 
 
 "Think'st thou so?"
 
 TANCREDI. 153 
 
 " Nay, I am sure." 
 
 " How shall I be sure 3" 
 
 " Try him, trust him, wait on him." 
 
 " And how shall I try him, good Berta ?" 
 
 " Win him back from the Bannemead ; he loves 
 her not as he loves thee." 
 
 " But I am ill and ugly ! She it was who stole 
 away my beauty with her evil eye. lie will not look 
 on me." 
 
 " Be not so despondent. Regain thy health, my 
 child, and thy beauty will return, and so will he." 
 
 "Do'st really think so? Or talk'st thoti thus 
 to console me? Mock me not, kind Berta; I pray 
 thee, mock me not !" 
 
 " Kay, I mock thee not ! Wilt thou try my 
 experiment ?" 
 
 " And thy experiment is ' 
 
 " To win Michele back to thee." 
 
 "That I will try; but how ?" 
 
 " And thou must promise to take no heed of him 
 till he first notices thee." 
 
 " Kay, that is too hard ; Berta, ask me not that." 
 
 " I know these men better than thou know'st 
 them court them, they fly ; disdain them, they kneel 
 at thy feet." 
 
 "But will he ever come ; dost thou know that he 
 will return to me ?"
 
 154 TANCREDI. 
 
 "As surely as the summer follows winter; as sure 
 as the swallows homeward fly. If thou heed'st me I 
 promise his return to thee." 
 
 " Then I promise to get well ; and to remain quiet ; 
 but, oh, my Berta, that is hard, hard, hard 1" sobbed 
 the weak woman, as though even the promise of in- 
 action was an effort that summoned all the fortitude of 
 her disconsolate soul.
 
 TANCREDI. 155 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 " She walks in beauty like the night 
 
 Of cloudless climes and starry skies, 
 And all that's best of dark and bright 
 Meet in the aspect of her eyes." 
 
 THERE are people yet living in ISTew York who 
 will recollect very well the yellow cottage which stood 
 on a slight elevation a little back from the old Harlem 
 Road, in what was then called Yorkville, a suburb of 
 the city. The building and grounds were for many 
 years owned and occupied by an excentric Englishman 
 who was a mate, or, what was his chief duty, a pilot, 
 on one of the packets that plied between New York 
 and Liverpool. His name was William Orange ; his 
 neighbors call him William, Prince of Orange, and his 
 yellow cottage the Orange Box. He was laid at the 
 bottom of the sea long ago, the roadway has been 
 widened, graded and paved into the sweeping avenue, 
 and the ochery dwelling has given place to the stately 
 brown -stone front. 
 
 Rosetta occupied this cottage. Shade trees and 
 trellised vines in front made a pleasant retreat and
 
 15G TANCREDI. 
 
 half concealed the building from view. A commodi- 
 ous garden was situated in the rear of the house. 
 
 Rosetta's nearest neighbor was a widow named 
 Taplan, who, with her son, lived in the adjoining two 
 story brick. The son, John Taplan, was a brawny 
 young man of two and twenty, and a mate, or sea 
 pilot, by occupation. He had been a favorite of Wil- 
 liam Orange, who had interested the boy in the art of 
 navigation, and taught him so v/ell that he was now 
 mate on one of the packets with which his tutor had 
 been so long connected. He was frugal, and his earn- 
 ings not only kept himself and mother in comfort, 
 but overran their wants and were satisfactorily filling 
 the provident stocking the flattering neuclus of pros- 
 pective wealth. They owned the brick dwelling and 
 enclosed grounds, which was prima facia evidence of 
 well-doing people. 
 
 Many neighborly civilities had been exchanged 
 between the inmates of the two dwellings. During 
 the tedious illness of Kosetta, Mrs. Taplan had been 
 ever willing and ready to render any help in her 
 power. Of course she knew nothing of Rosetta's 
 antecedents, nor was she curious to know. Her neigh- 
 bor, since her advent into the neighborhood, had 
 behaved with decorum, and that was all that Mrs. 
 Taplan cared to know. 
 
 The topography about the two dwellings was such
 
 TANCKEDI. 157 
 
 that a full view could be had of the garden in the rear 
 of the cottage by any one looking out of the back 
 second story window of the brick. When Eosetta 
 grew able to walk out she passed much of her time in 
 lounging among the cozy shadows of the garden. It 
 was while thus occupied that John Taplan first saw 
 her from his bedroom window, while home on his brief 
 monthly visit. He was struck with her grace and 
 beauty ; he thought that never before had he seen so 
 neat a figure, and he stood gazing at her until the 
 stars came out and she went in. 
 
 The next morning he learned from his mother all 
 she could tell him of the beautiful neighbor, when he 
 went whistling away and steered his ship across and 
 back across the sea, thinking of the pretty woman of 
 the garden, and strangely blending her with the Polar 
 star. When next he came home he found his mother 
 prostrate with a dangerous illness, which compelled 
 him to give up his ocean trip. 
 
 When Kosetta learned of her neighbor's illness she 
 gratefully remembered the kindnesses the savory 
 stews, spices, jellies and kindred dainties of invalid 
 store, which the kind American housewife had pre- 
 pared and brought to her bedside, when she herself 
 was ill, and needed a friend. And now, when oppor- 
 tunity presented, she did not hesitate to repay in kind. 
 Besides her sense of gratitude it was a real treat to sit
 
 158 TANCREDI. 
 
 with some human being outside her own household. 
 
 She visited the sick Mrs. Taplan every day, often 
 twice a day; and sat for hours fanning the bedridden 
 neighbor, or soothing her with her sparkling prattle. 
 
 Bosetta Godardo was not a strong-minded woman ; 
 her thoughts were not usually deep thoughts, nor 
 her speech eloquent. It took passion to rouse strong- 
 thinking, and attune her speech to the key of elo- 
 quence. There was nothing stirring in a sick cham- 
 ber, nothing in an invalid to incite eloquence, but she 
 could and did cheer and amuse Mrs. Taplan with her 
 kind prattle and childlike ways. The face of the suf- 
 ferer would light np with gladness when the lively 
 little Italian came to her bedside. 
 
 One morning, when Kosetta made her accustomed 
 visit, she found a strange man seated holding the sick 
 woman by the hand. It was too late to retreat, and 
 she was introduced to John Taplan. 
 
 The son's leave of absence extended through many 
 weeks of vigil at his dying mother's side. Rosetta 
 was shy for a time, but she gradually became accus- 
 tomed to the presence of the brawny sailor, who 
 seemed to have about him the depth and the perfume 
 of the sea. She made her usual visits to Mrs. Taplan 
 with her wonted punctuality. Thus it came that, in 
 their common solicitude for the sufferer, the Italian 
 maid and the ocean pilot were daily thrown into each
 
 TANCREDI. 159 
 
 other's company. A quiet but pleasant acquaintance 
 sprung up between them. "With John Taplan, senti- 
 ment began at gratitude, and, with a rapid crescendo, 
 ran the gamut through respect, admiration, love, ten- 
 derness, devotion, up to the crowning key of adora- 
 tion for the dark-eyed beauty. 
 
 Taplan possessed one prominent trait in his charac- 
 ter budget that made him a remarkable person, that 
 was his earnestness. It is literally true to say that 
 there was nothing trivial in his sight. Everything at 
 all worthy of consideration was of serious import to 
 him. Everybody and all things that came within his 
 notice was estimated with seriousness. Straws pointed 
 leeward, and had significance as well as the needle that 
 pointed to the pole. Life to him was never a travesty, 
 but an awful reality the vitam impendere vero. He 
 possessed about as much appreciation of wit and 
 humor as a Hottentot of Beethoven's symphonies, or 
 the color blind of rainbow tints. He was good- 
 hearted, patient, cool, ready to help, and fond of quiet 
 society, but his conception of conviviality was rudi- 
 mentary. He went through life with few smiles, 
 looking at men and objects with earnest eyes in a 
 sober face. 
 
 With woman, he himself confessed he was a fail- 
 ure. He was too morose for female friendship, too 
 sedate for female gayeties, too cold for woman's flip
 
 160 TANCREDI. 
 
 pant love. Even as a boy, lie could not got 
 with the girls. He never could enter into the mud 
 pie industry with that spurious faith which is some- 
 times more gratifying than the genuine article. 
 " Make believe " was labor lost, and he withdrew from 
 childish sports in disgust. The screams of the girls 
 irritated him, and their hoydenish ways drove him 
 furious. They called him " crank," " Grandpap," or 
 the " Old Man," and treated him like a Dutch uncle, 
 or as they fancied that mythical kinsman deserved to 
 be treated. 
 
 When he grew up it was worse. He, who could 
 handle a ship, could not manage a woman. On the 
 darkest night, and amid the raging of the storm his 
 boat would obey her helm, but when he attempted to 
 direct a woman, she sheered away, perverse and 
 adverse to all approved principles of navigation. 
 John would tackle a ship when the waves ran moun- 
 tain high, and he would bring her into port, out he 
 would not tackle a female in the deadest calm that 
 ever lulled the upholstery 6f a drawing-room no, not 
 to be made master of the craft. 
 
 His mother, of course, had understood him better ; 
 all bashful boy's mothers do ; she trimmed her sails to 
 keep him company. He liked his mother the better 
 for that, and, up to the time when he met Kosetta, he
 
 TANCREDI. 161 
 
 liked his mother better than any woman he had ever 
 met. 
 
 This little black-eyed woman he soliloquized 
 this strange woman, who spoke his language so 
 quaintly, and yet to musically, seemed wondrously like 
 his mother in behavior and disposition. 
 
 Don't you see how he was already prejudiced in 
 her favor ? she seemed to sail on the same tack with 
 him, or lay alongside as though they had been life's 
 voyagers together. There was no mockery about her, 
 no sneering in her manner, none of the malapert in 
 her behavior. Even her beautiful face was sober and 
 earnest. 
 
 And to the lonely girl, suffering with a heartache 
 not assuaged, this strong, sedate man, seemed like a prop, 
 a tower, a secure refuge, which she had dreamed of, and 
 longed for, but knew not that such sanctuary could 
 be until he came with his force and will. His very 
 physical proportions the broad shoulders, deep chest, 
 and square face, lit up with earnest gray eyes, im- 
 pressed her with a sense of power and safety ; while 
 his direct manner, and unaffected, almost blunt, speech, 
 revealed to her the intensity and earnestness of his 
 character. She began, unconsciously and involun- 
 tarily, to lean over on his tack, and to sail along in his 
 company. 
 
 Of course it was not the beginning of a new love
 
 1G3 TANCREDI. 
 
 with her. It is to be regretted that it was not. Even 
 if she had reached no higher than respect for the 
 sailor, and remained there, it would have been better 
 than a ruby mine for both. 
 
 No ; it was not the beginning of a new love attach- 
 ment on her part. Such women as Rosetta Godardo 
 there are such love but once, and that with their 
 lives. She had loved that love. There was no new 
 germ for a new growth. Such women are like plants 
 that give out but a single fragrance, and die with the 
 perfume. 
 
 Kosetta's love was ground into a broken urn ; no 
 contiguous vase could imbibe the subtle fragrance.
 
 TANCREDI. 163 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 " Her precious pearl in sorrow's cup, 
 
 Unmelted at the bottom lay, 
 To shine again when all drunk up, 
 The bitterness should pass away." 
 
 " DON'T you think my mother is much better, to- 
 day ?" asked John Taplan of Rosetta, one evening in 
 the parlor, as she came from the sick chamber. 
 
 " Alas, no ! she no better !" she quietly answered. 
 
 "But, the color has come back to her face; isn't 
 that better?" 
 
 " It the burning that ; it the fever." 
 
 " Tell me, did you ever see any one die ?" he 
 inquired, after a brief silence. 
 
 " Yes ; my mother I saw ; my little sister, too. I 
 saw both die. My father and brother, they go sink in 
 the bay. I never saw. them no one ever saw them* 
 come to shore. The boat it come back." 
 
 " You mean they were drowned ?" 
 
 "My father and brother yes, they drowned. No 
 one see them. My mother and sister not ; they die 
 the fever made them to die. I see them when they 
 die."
 
 164 TANCREDI. 
 
 " Plave you no brother or sister left ?" 
 
 " None, Sir, none ; no one but me 1" 
 
 "You are alone; as lonely as as I am lonely!" 
 said he, after another interval of silence. 
 
 "More lone; much, more lone than you. Tou 
 your home have, your mother, your ship, your friends, 
 your country have. But me ! Alas, I nothing have !" 
 
 As she spoke her arms fell listless at her side, and 
 her head sunk on her breast. The sailor made a step 
 forward as if to catch her in his arms, but bashfulness 
 restrained him, and he tore open his collar, which felt 
 like an iron girdle around his throat. 
 
 They stood thus for a few moments with the 
 silence only broken by the hard breathing of the 
 sailor. 
 
 " Your name is Kosaetta ?" at length he asked. 
 
 " Nay, not so much ; only Eosetta," she replied, 
 looking up to him and smiling. 
 
 "May I call you Ilosa? That name is easier for 
 me ; besides I like it better." 
 
 "Call me Kosa? Yes, if it likes you," she said, 
 with a look of wonder and pleasure. 
 
 "Well, then, Rosa, will you let me be your 
 friend?" 
 
 "You are good! Same like your mother! You 
 my friend ? How glad ! How it sounds ! Your 
 friend ! And will you have it so ?"
 
 TANCREDL 165 
 
 " Do you ask if I mean it ?" 
 
 "Yes, the same it is." 
 
 "I more than mean it." 
 
 " It gladdens me that you will have it so ! And 
 you shall be my good friend, as is thy mother, and I 
 will be your good friend," she cried, and joyously 
 reached out her hand to him. 
 
 Ah, what an actress she was ! but here her acting 
 was true and real, for it was prompted by her heart. 
 
 The two new friends met daily beside the death 
 couch, until the mother closed her eyes to mundane 
 light. When John saw her lying before him, cold 
 and silent, he gave one great sob, as if told for the 
 first time what he knew before, that man loses his first 
 and best friend when his mother dies. 
 
 He was alone in the world, without a single blood 
 relative near or distant. One bright inspiration shone 
 through the gloom, it was the sympathy of the one 
 single being who came with words of condolence at 
 his bereavement. She came over in the soft twilight 
 and sat in the pensive gloom of the house of woe, talk- 
 ing like a child at the stricken man. She followed 
 the body of her late friend to its final abode, and that 
 was the last John saw of her for days. 
 
 But his ship was in port, it was almost ready for 
 the return voyage, and John reported for duty. 
 
 It was the evening before he was to sail. He had
 
 166 TANCREDI. 
 
 been ruminating and meditating all day, trying to 
 make out the answer to the half -formed and obscure 
 enigma that confused and bothered his mind. lie 
 knew not himself why it was or what it was, but 
 there it was an ill-defined disquiet he never felt 
 before. John Taplan was perplexed, but what at he 
 did not know. His own expression was that he didn't 
 know where to go, nor what to do after he got there. 
 This much he did know, that the enigma related in 
 some vagne way to the beautiful neighbor, but why, 
 he could not tell. He knew that without her there 
 would be no vague enigma to puzzle his brains. 
 Without her he would summarily dispose of his house 
 and effects and turn his whole attention to the glorious 
 sea. But with her in the case he hesitated about mak- 
 ing a radical change, and he compromised by bidding 
 the domestic in his employ keep the house in order 
 until his return. 
 
 That much of the enigma was cleared up ; but the 
 most perplexing part remained Rosetta, what of 
 her? 
 
 He had not seen her since his mother's funeral, 
 which already seemed an age ago. He must see her 
 before he went away he must see her that evening. 
 He entered her gate, her door ; he found himself, in 
 surprise to himself, in Rosetta's presence.
 
 TANCREDI. * 167 
 
 She took no trouble to conceal her pleasure at his 
 visit, and extended her hand in welcome. 
 
 " I start away to-morrow and came to thank you 
 for your kindness to my poor mother, and to say 
 good-by." 
 
 " So ? But you will corne back, and we will be 
 the neighbors ?" 
 
 " That is for you to say, Rosa." 
 
 " For me to say ? Then I say come back and be 
 my neighbor," she replied in a hearty, unaffected man- 
 ner. 
 
 "No; I don't mean that; or I mean that and 
 something more a great deal more. Will yon be 
 more than a neighbor to me, Rosa ?" 
 
 "That more is the friend? Is it that?" she 
 inquired, looking down and tapping the floor with her 
 foot. 
 
 " Will you be my wife ?" 
 
 "That is sudden!" she almost whispered, as she 
 glared around the room with a startled look, as though 
 dreading a lurking foe. 
 
 " Will you be my wife ?" again asked Taplan, 
 reaching out his strong hands to her. 
 
 " Signer is good ! Sir, you are kind, very kind ! 
 I the honor deserve not !" 
 
 " That is for me to judge, Rosa. You and I are 
 alike in many ways, and most like in being alone in
 
 1G8 TANCREDI. 
 
 the world. I have no one to care for me, if it is not 
 you ; none to call me friend, if it is not you ; I have 
 no one to love, if it is not you. I can give you a 
 home and my love, and we can give each other happi- 
 ness. Think of all that !" 
 
 " What if I the better like alone to be ? What if 
 it best pleases me to be by no one loved ?" 
 
 " Then it shall best please me also. Is this your 
 answer ?" 
 
 " When come you home again ?" 
 
 " In about forty days." 
 
 " Then I will answer you. Ask me not now. A 
 good voyage to you, and safe return, my friend. Till 
 then, good-by." 
 
 The next day the young mate went away to sea. 
 
 Berta wrote one of her fortnightly letters about 
 this time. Here is a translated extract : 
 
 " I wrote you of our neighbors, the American fam- 
 ily, and of the death of the mother, who left a son, a 
 young sailor. He has just gone to sea, the first trip 
 since his mother's death. 
 
 "Do you believe it? he is in love with our 
 Rosetta ! He proposed to her last evening. And 
 what said she ? I hear you ask. She told him to wait 
 a mouth for her reply ! To wait till his ship comes 
 back. What do you say to that ? All this she has
 
 TANCKEDI. 1UU 
 
 told me ; what she will do I know not. She wants ray 
 advice ; what shall it be ? She loves him not as she 
 once loved you." 
 
 When John Taplan left Eosetta Godardo a new 
 era seemed to burst on her life. The two conventional 
 angels that are appointed to hover in the circumam- 
 bient presence of mortals, had a fierce combat, which 
 ended in the Demon of Evil being driven howling 
 away, and its place occupied by the guardian angel of 
 Good. The benignant spirit overshadowed the woman 
 with peace and content. 
 
 As she sat alone in the gathering shadows of night, 
 after bidding her lover adieu, the drama of her life, 
 past and prospective, passed like a thrilling panorama 
 before her. She fancied she sat among the olives 
 where as a child she played ; she saw her father's 
 cottage, and she beheld his boat on the bay ; she again 
 looked on her mother bending over the spinning wheel 
 under the shade of the chestnut tree. 
 
 Then came the maiden with her beauty, her 
 innocence and her song, when, lo ! a dark shadow 
 crept over her form, and enveloped her in its foul 
 gloom ! It is the blight of the execrable, the false 
 Tancredi ! Scalding tears filled her eyes and blotted 
 out the hateful vision. 
 
 But, behold ! While she yet weeps, the hideous
 
 170 TANCREDI. 
 
 shadow fade?, and the form of Jolin Taplan stands 
 among the sunlit olives. He holds out his hands to 
 her; he points to a smiling valley, aureate with waving 
 grain, and musical with birds and bees. 
 
 The guardian angel looked on approvingly and 
 smiled applause. 
 
 It was not love that lured her toward Taplan, or 
 she could not have seen so clearly and reasoned so 
 correctly what she had been and what she might yet 
 become. Love would have blinded her. It was pride, 
 self-respect, the instinct of virtue, that inclined her 
 toward him. She looked to him as to the knight, 
 noble, brave and strong, under whose shield she might 
 find shelter, and in whose affection she might find 
 refuge from shame and sorrow. She looked to him as 
 an ark to bear her over the waves of passion and 
 despair. 
 
 The guardian angel whispered approval. 
 
 His was the first honorable love ever made to her ; 
 his was the only offer of marriage she had ever heard. 
 
 How different it all was from her experience with 
 Tancredi ! How striking the contrast between the 
 two men ! The nobleman had treated her as he would 
 a slave ; the sailor paid her the homage due a queen. 
 Under the sway of her old love passion ran riot, and 
 judgment sat appalled on its tottering seat. She had 
 indeed ruled on a gilded throne, but the hair-sus-
 
 TAKCREDI. 171 
 
 pended sword had fallen, and her false lover had walked 
 over her prostrate body to new conquest. The stout 
 sailor had reseated her on the throne, and had re- 
 moved the menacing sword. She was no longer 
 scorned and rejected, but was the queen, in royal robes, 
 and in her right mind. 
 
 Peace, content and security settled down on the 
 Italian maid like a benediction. Her sleep was no 
 longer disturbed by the spectre of unrest ; her dreams 
 were of her childhood. 
 
 Rosetta resolved that she would become the wife 
 of John Taplan. As was characteristic of her, the re- 
 solve was not weak with a cold hesitancy. She glo- 
 ried in the prospect before her, and, as the tedious 
 days went round, she longed for his return, impatient 
 to tell him how glad she was to become his wife. 
 She felt every joy that a pure woman feels when 
 about to enter into happy wedlock with the man she 
 loves. Under this contented frame of mind, and its 
 stimulating effect on her system, her vigor and beauty 
 returned with astonishing rapidity. With these hap- 
 py changes came back her girlish tastes and ambition. 
 She took again to song, hunted up her neglected 
 music, and the cottage rang with her melodious voice. 
 She especially loved to sing songs of the sea. 
 
 Berta stared with wide eyes at the change in her 
 young ward.
 
 172 TANCREDI. 
 
 " What has come over thee, my pretty one ? Thou 
 art as gay as the lark !" 
 
 " Say'st thou so, good Berta ? And why may I uot 
 be gay ? One cannot always be sad !" 
 
 " Heigh-ho ! Thou art ever thinking of the young 
 American sailor ! Ah me ! thou wilt soon desert thy 
 old friend Berta !" 
 
 "IN ay, thou shalt ever remain and be glad with 
 me." 
 
 "No, girl ; when thou go'st with, the sailor I shall 
 return to my master." 
 
 " Hush, Berta ! Let us not speak of evil ! It 
 makes me sad again." 
 
 " Is it evil to say I shall return to my master when 
 thou art married ?" 
 
 "Alas, yes, dear Berta, so it sounds to me." 
 
 " But it is natural that I should go to my best 
 friend when I part with thee." 
 
 " He may spurn thee, as he did me. He will spurn 
 thee when thon art in his way." 
 
 "Dio vi benedica f Think' st thou so evil of 
 him?" 
 
 " Caro mio, have I not good cause?" 
 
 "Ask me not to decide that. He loves thee? 
 Mark iny words, he will return to thee again. All the 
 fiends will not keep him from thee."
 
 TANCREDI. 173 
 
 " May the arch fiend sieze me if I give him wel- 
 come !" 
 
 " Puh ! how you talk ! We shall see !" 
 " We shall see !" echoed Rosetta mockingly, and 
 she broke off the dialogue by going to the piano and 
 singing, 
 
 " Like an eagle caged I pine, 
 On this dull unchanging shore ; 
 
 Oh ! give me the flashing brine, 
 The spray and the tempest roar." 
 
 Berta watched her with the expression of a patient, 
 waiting demon on her cunning face. 
 
 It was pleasant to contemplate Rosetta in her new 
 role. She got a new dress, together with several 
 articles of personal adornment, the first since coining 
 to America. She placed many inexpensive decorations 
 in and about the cottage, and did many things to beau- 
 tify herself and her home, adornments which none but 
 a woman's head could have contrived or a woman's 
 hand executed. Her acts and industry were not all 
 for John Taplan ; they were largely for the woman 
 redeemed from passion and disgrace. 
 
 Well, why stop to moralize ? Why not proceed 
 with the story ? 
 
 Ah, friend, is it not going too fast when you, gallop 
 rough shod over the hoping heart of a weak and 
 crushed woman ? And is it not really proceeding with
 
 174 TANCREDI. 
 
 the story when you linger to learn her anxious, almost 
 terrible, resolve, to redeem her life from pollution ? 
 The potentiality of a fallen woman's will is a brittle 
 texture when strongest ; why may we not tarry long 
 enough to strengthen it with our sympathy ? 
 
 And, Madam, you who are most clamorous for the 
 rapid turning of Ixion's wheel, may it not be that you 
 are too prone to pass by in disdain an erring sister, 
 when, perchance, encouragement from you would 
 redeem ? Here is a young creature possessed of every 
 quality that gives grace and charm to womanhood ; 
 she has been tempted as only a beautiful girl can be 
 tempted, and is even yet surrounded by the most 
 vicious and perilous circumstances. From the depths 
 of her danger and degradation she reaches out toward 
 the light, and hails with joy the prospect of standing 
 redeemed in that noblest of all stations the true wife 
 of a true man. For God's sake, don't trample her 
 back into the mire ! Let her rise again. There are 
 hellish temptations awaiting her ; help her overcome 
 them all.
 
 TANCREDI. 175 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 " Oh, how this tyrant, doubt, torments my breast I" 
 
 ON the morning of the day when her lover's ship 
 was expected to reach port she was early astir, and in 
 a carriage hired for the occasion drove down to the 
 pier to meet and welcome him home. 
 
 The ship was not in, but a vessel supposed to be 
 the packet had been signaled off Sandy Hook, and it 
 would be noon before she could reach her pier. The 
 time was long, but Hosetta waited. 
 
 The packet was at her mooring at last, and the 
 crew not on duty, was disembarking. Among the 
 members was the young mate, whom she hailed as lie 
 drew near. John was astonished and confused at 
 being accosted by a beautiful woman in the presence 
 of his ship-mates, but when he saw who it was, and 
 learned why she was there, he came as near smiling as 
 his temperament would permit. He was more than 
 pleased. 
 
 His companions, curious to learn who was this 
 charming female who so familiarly addressed their 
 comrade the woman-hater, and why he stood BO high
 
 176 TANCREDI. 
 
 in her favor, lingered near, waiting for him to rejoin 
 them. Their presence and behavior attracted her 
 attention. 
 
 "These are yonr friends?" she asked, nodding 
 toward the group of sailors. " You shall bring them 
 here and make me the introduction." 
 
 "This is my neighbor, and my mother's friend," 
 said Taplan, presenting his comrades to her. 
 
 She gave her hand in uneffected greeting to every 
 one, and by her modest and graceful manner made 
 her way to the good opinion of all. One of the 
 officers lived in the direction of Torkville, and she 
 insisted on his riding with them, when they started 
 off together. 
 
 In the evening John went over according to 
 appointment, and sat and talked with Eosetta, or 
 rather, listened to her, for he was a good listener, to 
 whom most people liked to talk. Taplan was better 
 informed than most persons in his vocation ; his 
 silence was not because of ignorance. He sat 
 enchanted under the spell of the musical speech and 
 charming ways of the Italian girl, feeling it almost 
 sacriligious to interrupt the harmony with his big 
 round voice. Besides he was in suspense. 
 
 "I came for the answer," he at length abruptly 
 exclaimed, after the evening had well advanced.
 
 TANCREDI. 177 
 
 " The answer ? Meeting you at the pier was the 
 answer." 
 
 " And the answer is " 
 
 " I your wife will gladly be," she replied, placing 
 both her hands in his. 
 
 The young sailor folded her in his arms, and kissed 
 her most daintily. 
 
 How did he acquire the art? He never had any 
 training ; it was the first embrace he ever bestowed on 
 a woman, his mother excepted, and yet he kissed his 
 affianced with the grace and delicacy of a Chester- 
 field ! If kissing goes by favor, it conies by heredity. 
 
 The four days he stayed on shore were gala days 
 to John Taplan, and their memory lived long as a 
 bright oasis in his life. He passed his time until late 
 in the evening by her side, and at night dreamed of 
 none but her. He was quiet, almost solemn, in her 
 presence ; but he was earnestly happy. Rosetta 
 whiled away the time with her unaffected, childlike 
 manner, and made him wish the day would never end. 
 
 They talked most of the future ; and soared away 
 to gossamer castles built by that volatile architect, 
 Hope. O Youth ! O Beauty I Why may not thy 
 ethereal days roll round forever. 
 
 The wedding day was fixed to come off in the glad 
 spring time in the following May, which, to the 
 8*
 
 178 TANCREDI. 
 
 young pilot, was a remote future, but still the millen- 
 nium worth the waiting for. 
 
 " Before you go away, I must tell you this which 
 most troubles me, my only trouble," she said to him 
 on the evening before he was to sail. 
 
 " What can trouble yon, Rosa i" 
 
 " Oh, my friend, it is the hard, hard story ! I tell 
 it all to you some day. It is the wicked story ; it 
 pains my heart when I think. You know not what 
 you have made for me. For all the good you make 
 for me, the good God will bless yon ! But one more 
 good you must make me, then I the happy woman 
 will be." 
 
 " Name it, Rosa," he said, taking her hand, and 
 encouraging her with his firm grasp. 
 
 " The person the one who here me bring, makes 
 this home for me. I like it not; I will not have it 
 so. I can no longer his bounty accept. It is your 
 wife that is to be who speaks this trouble." 
 
 " I am not sure I understand you, some friend 
 provides for your maintenance in this cottage, is that 
 your meaning ?" 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And you can no longer accept aid from him, now 
 that you are my promised wife? Do you mean 
 that ?"
 
 TANCREDI. 179 
 
 "Yes, yes; it is that. How kind you under- 
 stand." 
 
 " Then you are right, quite right ; my future wife 
 must look to me entirely for support. But, tell me, 
 Rosa, who this friend this person is? Tell me all 
 about it." 
 
 " Oh, no, no, no ! my good, kind friend, ask me 
 not that ! Some other time ! oh, please, some other 
 time ! It is the hard, wicked story, that makes me 
 wild, that makes me crazy when it I think. Some 
 other time, do, please me ! Before we married, I tell 
 you all. Let us be happy to-night. The great sor- 
 row is past ; let us not feel wicked any more." 
 
 While pleading, she knelt at his feet and clasped 
 his knees in the agony of her supplication. 
 
 " As it suits you," Taplan said coldly, as he 
 looked down in her upturned face and saw the wild 
 gleaming of her dark eyes. 
 
 Neither spoke for some time. The sailor wore a 
 troubled look on his face, which the observant woman 
 saw with consternation. She clung to his knees as 
 she had once clung to Tancredi, and looked up into 
 Taplan's face so beseechingly, so piteously, and so 
 alarmed. 
 
 He placed his great hands on her shoulders as if to 
 repulse, and said, earnestly, almost fiercely, " Tell me, 
 Rosa, is it a crime ?"
 
 180 TANCREDI. 
 
 " God pity me, yes ; but not my crime !" exclaimed 
 the dismayed woman, bowing her head in his lap, and 
 sobbing as if grief were breaking her heart. 
 
 He raised her up, lifted her as lovingly as the 
 angel of mercy lifts up the fallen. 
 
 " Rosa, that is all I wish to know, all I have the 
 right to know. You are innocent, tell me the rest or 
 not, as it best pleases you." 
 
 The distressed creature nestled close to his bosom, 
 and laid her head next his heart, like a troubled child 
 clinging to its dearest friend. She felt secure there ; 
 evil and distress could not reach her in that asylum. 
 She looked up in his face and smiled through her tears. 
 
 That woman was pure in the sight of her lover ; 
 she stood redeemed in the eyes of a merciful power. 
 
 Was it the Magdalene to whom the resurrection 
 first appeared? 
 
 Rosetta Godardo met there the Resurrection of a 
 New Life. 
 
 On the next day John Tappan hunted up the 
 agent of the cottage and to him prepaid the rent for 
 the ensuing quarter. He left positive orders with 
 Rosetta to accept no pecuniary help from any one but 
 himself. On that day she saw him off on his voyage. 
 
 Two more translated extracts from the Italian let- 
 ters are here given. The first is Tancredi's reply to 
 Berta's letter already given.
 
 TANCREDI. 181 
 
 " It is impossible for her to love him or any one as 
 she did me. She loved me too well, better a thousand 
 times than a woman should love any man. But, poor 
 girl, she couldn't help that; it is her nature! Her too 
 ardent love for me was the cause of all the trouble ; 
 but for that, she might be happy this day. 
 
 " I am glad her beauty has returned, as you state ; 
 but still I trust she will marry the sailor I think you 
 say he is a sailor. 
 
 " It is uncertain when we shall return to America. 
 It all depends on Madam, who is so capricious as to be 
 no two days alike. 
 
 " Has Eosetta's voice come back with her beauty ? 
 Tell her that I would like to hear her sing one of the 
 old songs we used to sing together. Tell her, also, 
 that Signora Lucia, with whom she quarrelled at 
 Madrid, is become the rage of Europe, and is now the 
 queen of the lyric stage. Lucia and Rosetta were 
 rivals, but our Rosetta would have distanced her were 
 it not for her foolish resolve to quit the stage. 
 
 "If she asks my advice, tell her I say to marry the 
 American sailor." 
 
 Berta wrote in reply : 
 
 " Our Rosetta has accepted the sailor. They are to 
 be married next May. I don't think she loves him,
 
 182 TANCREDI. 
 
 and yet she cares a great deal for him. She acts more 
 like a woman moved by gratitude than love. The 
 sailor (he is a sailor) will give her an honest name, a 
 home and protection ; for all of which she feels 
 grateful. 
 
 "She was furious when she heard of Lucia's 
 success. Til triumph over her yet!' she muttered, 
 with gleaming eyes. What she meant I know not. 
 When I had finished reading to her your letter, she 
 sighed, and went to the mirror, where she adjusted a 
 scarlet ribbon in her hair. You always told her how 
 well scarlet became her. 
 
 " She is now in the parlor singing * The Harp in the 
 Air.' Why does she always sing that song when 
 troubled about you ? She sings better than ever 
 before. The sailor is gone to sea, but she is not 
 impatient at his absence as she used to be when you 
 were away." 
 
 John Taplan was seated in the officer's cabin of 
 the outward bound packet talking to a comrade. 
 
 " Taplan, do you recollect the Italian nobleman and 
 the singing woman who came over with us in this 
 ship from Europe to America more than a year ago ? 
 The woman, don't you remember, who charmed every 
 body on board with her singing? Don't you recol- 
 lect ?"
 
 TANCREDI. 183 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Oh, of course not ! Why ask such a question of 
 a woman hater? You never go into the grand saloon, 
 especially if a lady is there." 
 
 " Why do you ask if I recollect the Italian and the 
 singing woman ?" 
 
 " Oh, do you know, that the woman you introduced 
 me to, looks like that opera singer." 
 
 "What! Kosa? Impossible! Why do you think 
 that ?" 
 
 " Because, as I said, your sweetheart resembles the 
 Italian lady, because your friend is an Italian, and, you 
 eay, sings like an angel." 
 
 " You astonish me ! And yet I can see no wrong, 
 even if Rosa should turn out to be the woman you 
 speak of." 
 
 " Wrong ? Certainly not ! But everybody seemed 
 to think that she was the Italian's wife. Is your 
 sweetheart a widow ?" 
 
 " Damnation ! What are you driving at ? I never 
 asked her such a question ; I never thought of such a 
 question. She may be a widow for all I know or 
 care, and still I maintain there is nothing wrong. 
 Why, in the name of the furies, do you talk so ? She 
 is to be my wife ; what do you mean ?" 
 
 " I mean nothing bad ; I know nothing bad, nor 
 do I think anything wrong ; only it is a matter for
 
 184 TANCREDL 
 
 remark that the woman who crossed in this packet 
 should bear so close a resemblance to your wife, that is 
 to be. That is all, old fellow. That is all. No 
 offense, I hope." 
 
 " We'll let the matter drop." 
 
 " As you choose. I have nothing more to say on 
 the subject ; it's none of my business." 
 
 " No ; it's none of your business." 
 
 Although Taplan controlled his tongue he did not 
 his thoughts. The subject was continually uppermost 
 in his mind. It troubled him deeply, as does all 
 mystery connected with one's sweetheart. And yet, 
 he reasoned, that, when the mystery came to be cleared 
 up, as it would be some day, it would then be no 
 longer a mystery, but probably a very simple and 
 innocent affair. He would trust Rosetta, as he said he 
 would, until she herself voluntarily explained the 
 mystery, as she promised she would, and as she would 
 in due time. 
 
 He recalled her words on the subject, and analyzed 
 them. 
 
 "It is the only thing that troubles me," she had 
 said. She meant it troubled her, as it should the pru- 
 dent woman and affianced wife, to accept pecuniary 
 aid of another. That was highly commendable ; but 
 who was the person alluded to? Doubtless some
 
 TANCREDI. 185 
 
 relative who reluctantly gave her that support pro- 
 vided for her by contract. 
 
 Was this person, could he be the Italian nobleman 
 of whom his mate had spoken ? Or was she his 
 widow, and provided for in his will ? 
 
 " It is the hard, wicked story that makes me wild 
 when I think of it," she had also said. Then it must 
 be a story intimately connected with her life a hard, 
 wicked story. But she had said that it was a crtrne ; 
 but not her crime. That is to say, others had done 
 the wrong, had wronged her, and were perhaps even 
 now wronging her. Certainly no reasonable man who 
 pretended to love a woman could have any misgivings 
 after so direct and emphatic a statement as Rosetta 
 had made to him. He would think no more of the 
 case ; such thoughts implied doubt, and he would not 
 wrong Rosa by doubting her word. He would wait 
 for her story. 
 
 But it is to be feared that he did not succeed in 
 dismissing the distracting subject from his mind.
 
 186 TANCREDI. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 "Still panting o'er a crowd to reign, 
 More joy it gives to woman's breast, 
 To make ten frigid coxcombs vain, 
 Than one true, manly lover blest." 
 
 THE Tancredi made a very brief stay in Naples. 
 The fastidious Madam found only stupid natives, two- 
 thirds of whom were lazy or ill-bred, the other third 
 guides or beggars. She saw no society that came up 
 to her standard of excellence. Even the strangers 
 came and went like wanderers, seeking only pleasure 
 or health. This was Naples as she viewed it, and 
 after a sail on the bay, and a ride in a rough diligence, 
 she shook the dust from her feet and turned back to 
 Rome. 
 
 There it was even worse. To her eyes the popu- 
 lace was made up of mendicants, banditti, and a 
 sprinkling of artists, antiquarians and church dignita- 
 ries. The industries of the city were divided into 
 begging, seeking curiosities, rambling among ruins, or 
 holding conclaves. She soon tired of Rome, and 
 started with her obliging husband to Venice. 
 
 That place suited her better, mainly, no doubt,
 
 TANCRED1. 187 
 
 because she was committed favorably beforehand. 
 She had pined for the City of the Sea, and now that 
 she was there she was bound to affect delight, even 
 though she did not feel that way. She was entitled to 
 some praise for her consistency in this, for at heart she 
 waa disappointed. To her Venice was a city washed 
 by the sea, and yet filthy and odorous of fish. The 
 gondolas and gondoliers, at least, from their proximity 
 to water, might have kept themselves clean ; but the 
 former were not only rank with dirt but were infested 
 with vermin that held Venetian carnivals among their 
 napless cushions, and the boatmen looked like coal- 
 heavers of the Thames. One of the gondoliers, whom 
 she said was tipsy, paddled her about with a broken 
 oar. She saw no gondolier of romance, unless dirt, 
 rags and insolence are picturesque and romantic. 
 
 Their stay in Venice was protracted to a fortnight, 
 apparently for no other reason than that Signer Tan- 
 credi wanted to get away to the cool air of the Alps. 
 
 Thus far Madam Alice was disappointed. She had 
 not met with nobility, had not tasted the sweets of dis- 
 tinguished society, and she began to suspect that her 
 husband's marriage was looked upon as a mesalliance 
 by his kindred, and that polite Italy, on that account, 
 was bent on excluding his wife from the privilege of 
 her husband's class and station. 
 
 He protested that society in cities was out of
 
 188 TAXCREDI. 
 
 season in that latitude, and that fashionable Italy was 
 taking its accustomed airing on the lakes and among 
 the passes of the cool mountains. This statement 
 cnlj partially re-assured her. She was fast becoming a 
 suspicious, exacting and capricious wife, bent on lead- 
 ing her husband a Gilpin gallop over the domestic 
 course. 
 
 He submitted to her whims and tyrannies with a 
 tameness surprising in so spirited a man. He yielded 
 to her every wish, regardless of how unreasonable or 
 unjust it might be, for no other reason than that he 
 really and truly loved her better than any woman he 
 had ever met. Her proud beauty and haughty spirit 
 held him spellbound. Her course, probably, was the 
 very best she could have taken to secure his affection 
 and constancy. Had she been the yielding, tender 
 and humble wife, she would most likely have met 
 with coldness and neglect instead of love and homage. 
 She took the role of the arrogant monarch and main- 
 tained her sovereignty with an iron hand and gratify- 
 ing success. Signor Tancredi possessed the very wife 
 he required, and she got the husband she deserved. 
 Objectively and subjectively the Tancredi -Banne- 
 mead alliance was a success. 
 
 How often it occurs that the Sabyrite, who made 
 every one bend to his will while a bachelor, is 
 metamorphosed into the meekest and most amiable of
 
 TANCREDI. 189 
 
 husbands ! The contemplation of such a man's career 
 is an argument against future punishment. A 
 reformed rake makes a good husband, is the proverbial 
 outgrowth of this rather common experience. The 
 saying, however, has the ear-marks of a woman, with 
 whom " meekness " and " goodness " in a husband are 
 convertible terms. This kind of a good husband 
 engenders small respect in the wife, if she happens to 
 be high-minded. Taneredi came very near being 
 classed as a " good " husband. 
 
 They passed the remainder of the summer in the 
 north of Lombardy, at the town of Isola, situated on 
 the mountain river Lira, among the Rhaetian Alps. 
 This place, although somewhat out of the route of 
 continental travel, is an exceedingly picturesque and 
 delightful locality, much frequented by the Italians 
 and the visitors at lake Como. The idle life of the 
 lake dwellers was often varied by visits among the 
 Ehaetian and Leopontine ranges, which stood like 
 huge, gray-hooded monks frowning at each other 
 across the Spliigen Pass. 
 
 A distinguished coterie of the Signer's friends 
 were already quartered at the Spliigen hotel, the 
 principal hostelry in Isola, when he and his wife 
 arrived. Among the number was his sister, Signora 
 Adelaide Cyrello and her husband, the latter an 
 official high in favor at the Italian court.
 
 190 TANCREDI. 
 
 Signora Adelaide was very like her brother in 
 appearance, and was a most intelligent and estimable 
 woman. She had been taught the English language, 
 but did not speak it as fluently as her brother, not 
 having had his opportunities for practising the speech. 
 Her willingness to learn, and her sweet, musical voice, 
 so like her brother's, compensated for her slips of 
 grammar and faulty pronunciation. She thought well 
 of her brother, but not always well of his doings, 
 among which latter was his marriage with the Ameri- 
 can. In a letter, in answer to his, bearing to her the 
 announcement of his marriage, she had freely 
 expressed her adverse opinion of that transaction, 
 which she felt must be irregular, if not disgraceful. 
 She shared in the general opinion then prevailing in 
 Europe that Americans were semi-barbarian democrats, 
 among whom the social scale was kept level by lower- 
 ing rank down to the vulgar strata. As a member of 
 an ancient and noble house she could not realize how 
 her brother could affiliate with Americans, 'without 
 relinquishing his social status at home. However, she 
 was not so bound by prejudice that she was unwilling 
 to hear his side of the story. Besides, he was her 
 brother, her only brother, and the head of the Tan- 
 credi house. 
 
 Up to the time of the arrival of her brother and 
 his wife, Signora Cyrello was in a state of uncertainty
 
 TANCREDI. 191 
 
 in regard to the question of etiquette proper on the 
 occasion of the reception. 
 
 Signora Adelaide and Madam Tancredi met for 
 the first time in the salon of the Spliigen hotel. 
 When the former was brought face to face with her 
 brother's wife, she drew back in surprise, and, bestow- 
 ing a frown on Michele, swept from the room tower- 
 ing with indignation. 
 
 The guests were, of course, painfully embarrassed at 
 this episode, but the American maintained her self- 
 poise with the equanimity of one receiving an ovation 
 instead of contumely. Before the awkward silence 
 was broken, Tancredi came in leading his sister, whom 
 ho had followed in the wake of her exit. 
 
 "My dear wife," said he, " my sister made a pain- 
 ful mistake ; she mistook you for another person. 
 She hastens to repair the wrong, and crave your par- 
 don." 
 
 " Tell your sister that it is a matter of indifference 
 to me what or whom she mistook me for. If her opin- 
 ion, made up by a glance, is unfavorable, I beg her not 
 to alter it." 
 
 " Oh, say not that ! you, who deserve so well !" 
 
 " I was not trained to accept politeness as a beggar 
 does alms, nor will I." 
 
 u But, my dear wife, yon will not permit my sister 
 to explain ; that much is due her."
 
 192 TAKCREDI. 
 
 " And how much is due me, pray ? Insolence and 
 insult?" 
 
 " .Nay, believe me ; that was a mistake ; a mistake 
 that you yourself might have made." 
 
 This conversation was carried on in a low voice, 
 and aside from the company. 
 
 " If Madam will but bear my unfortunate blunder 
 for one little minute, I think she will not so unkindly 
 judge me," interrupted Signora Adelaide in her sweet 
 voice. 
 
 " I bear with your blunder because I choose, and 
 not to please any person." 
 
 " I not quite understand ; you forgive me ?" 
 
 " You have not asked that." 
 
 " But I will. I do ask you to pardon my mistake. 
 I was mistaken ; I was wrong ; I am sorry. I mistook 
 you for another woman. My brother my mistake 
 inform me, and now I see my painful mistake." 
 
 " My sister mistook you for the Godardo," whis- 
 pered Tancredi, in his wife's ear, prompted by the 
 necessity for a full and immediate explanation. 
 
 "I forgive you with all my heart," she eagerly 
 exclaimed, extending her hand in a hearty manner. 
 
 The candor with which she forgave impressed her 
 sister-in-law very favorably ; she was led to believe 
 that Madam Alice was possessed of a generous and
 
 TANCREDI. 193 
 
 amiable disposition. The husband saw in his wife's 
 behavior delicate malignity. 
 
 In a tete a tete between the two women, a full 
 explanation was had of how the error came to be made. 
 The Italian woman would have avoided further discus- 
 sion of the unpleasant subject after she had said 
 enough to vindicate herself in the ej r es of her sister- 
 in-law, but the latter was irrepressible until her curi- 
 osity in that direction was satisfied. 
 
 The Signora spoke of her brother's liaison with 
 forbearance and palliation. She had seen the canta- 
 trice only twice, once on the stage, and on another 
 occasion in a carriage. 
 
 "When I met you," she said, "I was confident 
 that you were the cantatrice. I felt very bitter 
 toward my brother for what I believed to be his base 
 deception, and for bringing shame and disgrace on 
 his family. I left the room, sick at heart, angered 
 and mortified. He followed and gave me his word of 
 honor that I was deceived, and that you are worthy of 
 my esteem. And you do resemble the singing woman 
 as I remember her. But you cannot know my joy at 
 finding it is you and not her." 
 
 Madam Tancredi was also full of joy was over- 
 joyed. What at ? 
 
 - First, the implied rebuke to her husband ; second, 
 the compliment paid to herself.
 
 164 TANGRED1. 
 
 The Godardo, though an Italian, would not have 
 been received into the proud Tancredi family, while 
 she, the American, was welcomed to full membership. 
 She took much comfort out of her success. 
 
 Sometimes, in choosing the lesser evil, we forget 
 that it is still an evil. It is probable that the revul- 
 sion of feeling in Signora Adelaide's case blinded her 
 to the fact, that although the American was not a pro- 
 fessional singer, she was still plebeian. 
 
 Madam Alice at one bound established herself in 
 the good graces of the distinguished company at Isola. 
 It was a real enjoyment to see this beautiful woman, 
 almost without effort, breathe in the savoir vivre as 
 she did the Alpine air. Her inborn grace, and her 
 intuitive ambition of elegance, attracted all to her 
 side, and before two weeks had gone by she was as 
 completely the reigning queen of that circle as she 
 ever was in her native city. 
 
 The company had talked much of her before her 
 expected arrival. They had promised themselves 
 much amusement at the backwoods bizarrie of the 
 western barbarian, as they had named her. They 
 were astonished to find, instead of the uncouth barba- 
 rian, the lady of fashion, grace and refinement, and a 
 woman who outranked them all in beauty. 
 
 With the gentlemen especially she was first favor- 
 ite; indeed was so popular that her distinguished
 
 TANCREDI. - 195 
 
 husband was scarcely permitted to pay her the most 
 common conjugal courtesies. Even in their more 
 secluded moments he experienced small share of that 
 wedded bliss of which the young so fondly dream, so 
 many sigh for, and but few realize. He began to sus- 
 pect that he had found one woman who did not wor- 
 ship him, and that woman his wife ; the person of all 
 others who should pay him tribute. The conqueror 
 of hearts was daily acquiring new and unpleasant 
 experiences in his relations with the proud American 
 beauty. 
 
 His egotism waned, but, strange to say, his love 
 for his wife increased in like proportion. He caught 
 himself thinking, saying and doing things which he 
 formerly held beneath the dignity of a Tancredi. Did 
 she slight him, he fawned the more ; was she indiffer- 
 ent, he became more adject, and even her insolence 
 humbled the proud man in the dust. He was un- 
 happy, his observant friends saw it, and lowered their 
 estimation of the once audacious Lothario. 
 
 The almost daily excursions by the guests were 
 usually shared by Madam Alice, nor was she concerned 
 about her husband's consent to go and come as she 
 willed. A bevy of gallants were always ready to 
 attend her every step or accompany her on her ram- 
 bles am^ng the mountains, or assist in her adventures, 
 some of which startled the discreet Adelaide. The
 
 196 TANCREDI. 
 
 latter would sometimes remonstrate in a sweet, sisterly 
 way ; but such appeals generally ended in a kiss, and in 
 Madam having her own way. The two women became 
 greatly attached. Madam Tancredi was sagacious 
 enough to discern the true nobility of Adelaide, and 
 that on her more than any one else she was dependent 
 for her exalted place in society ; while the Signora saw 
 beneath the frivolity of the American a pure and good 
 heart, ruled, it was true, by a brain a little bit turned 
 by her sudden success in securing an exalted position 
 in society. Besides she was the adored wife of her 
 brother, and the promise of a better life for him. 
 
 Madam Alice had come to Europe to have a 
 " good time," as expressed in her western vernacular, 
 and she was bent on having it in her own way. Her 
 marriage was for a peculiar object the real bride- 
 groom was European Aristocracy, to which her hus- 
 band was a little closer than the priest who officiated 
 at the marriage altar. She therefore paid her principal 
 homage to the real object of the union society, for- 
 got the priest, and ignored the husband. She was 
 filled with ambition, and, as two bodies cannot occupy 
 the same space, she had no room for conjugal love. 
 The old passion for conquest relit the fires on 
 her altar, and she longed for the incense of singed 
 moths. 
 
 It is scarcely necessary to protest that this is not a
 
 TANCREDI. 197 
 
 homily on coquettes or against coquettry. Let that 
 mnliebrous pastime continue; it is woman's dearest 
 sport, where she draws her keenest weapon, and the 
 victims her proudest trophies. Men will come and go, 
 but coquettry goes forever. 
 
 Keep it up, ye gallant dames ! You will never 
 lack for pupils or victims. The Fool's school must 
 not and will not languish! But beware of two con- 
 tingencies, and one of which is bound to overtake you 
 at last you will singe the wrong moth, or your lamp 
 will go out for want of oil. No homily is needed 
 against an evil that carries with it its own punish- 
 in ent. 
 
 Madam Tancredi singed the wrong moth. 
 
 Among the guests of the Spliigen hotel was one 
 Baron Sebastian von Waldland, a German nobleman 
 from one of the Rhinish provinces, unt der beste 
 Freund von Herr Tancredi. The two men had 
 become acquainted in Paris, and the Signer had spent 
 two months of the previous summer at the Baron's 
 home. They fell into each other's ways, and the 
 friendship was so strong that "Waldland had come all 
 the way from Germany to Isola to congratulate 
 Tancredi on his marriage. 
 
 The Baron was short in stature, rather overweight, 
 had a rosy complexion, blue eyes and flaxen hair, and 
 was us jolly and good n attired a fellow as could be
 
 198 TANCREDI. 
 
 found anywhere. Madam Alice thought he was the 
 queerest looking and queerest acting man she ever 
 met. He reminded her of pictures of Santa Clans, 
 and she called him Kriss Kingle. She was moved to 
 laugh in his face, but the gravity of his rank kept 
 down her risibilities, and she compromised by smiling 
 on him. 
 
 Baron Sebastian was not young, he was not even 
 passibly handsome, he had an affected style, acquired 
 by long association with stylish people, he did not talk 
 well, or dress in good taste, but he was good-natured, 
 and always beaming with kindness and politeness, at 
 least as he understood what kindness and politeness 
 should be. Above everything else was his devotion 
 to Madam Tancredi. Her service was his, her pleasure 
 his charge, her words his commands. Her smiles 
 captivated him. 
 
 What happens when a homely man lays earnest 
 siege to a lovely woman's heart ? 
 
 It generally comes to pass that his suit is more 
 favorably received than that of a more pretentious 
 suitor. 
 
 If a lover is devoted to his mistress, without being 
 too servile and obtrusive, it is small consequence what 
 his exterior may be, or whether or not he is rich, 
 noble, or stylishly dressed. Indeed, as the lovers of 
 the latter class presume on their personal attractions,
 
 TANCREDI. 199 
 
 rather than on their do voted ness, the chances are very 
 much in favor of the plain suitor. Ben Jonson pre- 
 ferred a cripple for a sweetheart; probably because 
 she had small temptation to share her charms with 
 others. A homely man, being little in demand, is not 
 likely to divide his attentions among many charmers. 
 It is the plain, unpretentious dove that perches on 
 the leafy bough and coos in love's lament, while the 
 valiant eagle soars high and far, and looks down on a 
 hundred admirers. Baron Sebastian was a social 
 dove. 
 
 On one occasion a hastily made up party was 
 making ready for a run down to lake Como, and a 
 dance ; the diligences were at the door, some were 
 already off, and others only waited on the life and 
 queen of the circle Madam Tancredi. She was 
 brought in from one of her rambles. 
 
 Make haste, and get ready. It was time to be off. 
 "Was she not going along? 
 
 The time was too short ; the notification so sudden ; 
 why had they not told her sooner? 
 
 She knew it almost as soon as any one. Signora 
 Adelaide was one of the leaders who had got the 
 impromptu affair up, and she was even now well on 
 her way with her husband to lake Como. The 
 Signora fully expected Madam to be one of the party.
 
 200 TANCREDI. 
 
 But the Signer, Madam's husband, was ont on the 
 mountains, and would not be home till dark. 
 
 There was the Baron ; why not press him into her 
 service ! He would willingly superintend the trans- 
 portation of her valise. 
 
 Yes, she would go, and away they went to Cemo, 
 distant ten miles. 
 
 Signora Adelaide was a little displeased because 
 her sister-in-law come on without her husband, and 
 she expressed her regret thereat. 
 
 " What possible harm, my dear Adelaide, is there 
 in my presence here without the Signor?" 
 
 " The harm is only in appearance, dear." 
 
 " Who will judge it wrong, even in appearance ? 
 Are we not friends, coming and going carte blanche f 
 The very informality of our associations ought to 
 prevent such hypercriticism." 
 
 " Well, sister, we will not call it wrong." 
 
 " And, besides, have I not the purest and most 
 discreet of sisters for my chaperon ? Both of us have 
 that zealous protector, Signor Cyrello. Then there's 
 my lackey, Kriss Kingle." 
 
 " I wish the Baron had not come with yon." 
 
 " What 1 Not jealous of the Baron ! Why, he's 
 the most inoffensive creature in the world ! He 
 prefers wine to women, and would prefer capon before 
 talking love, even to me."
 
 TANCREDI. 201 
 
 "And yet he does not pine all his time eating and 
 drinking, for see, he comes ! and I'll wager he seeks 
 you for the waltz." 
 
 " Done ! Baron, we were speaking of yon. Tell 
 us, do you prefer wine to our society ? " 
 
 "Ah ! you honor me, ladies, by making so much 
 notice for me ! My friends will row on the lake, and 
 sent me to ask you two ladies to join us. Will you 
 go?" 
 
 " Don't you prefer a waltz to a sail on the lake ? 
 Hear the superb music !" said Madam Alice. 
 
 "Ach Gott ! The diligence make me tired all 
 over ! The boat is better as the dance." 
 
 Signora Adelaide declined the Baron's invitation, 
 but urged Madam Alice to accept. The latter went 
 with the Baron. 
 
 The German had posted a band of musicians a 
 harpist, violinist, and a performer on the guitar, with 
 a quartette of singers, on one of the islets near. The 
 soft, sweet strains of the music came floating over the 
 drowsy waters like mystic melodies from isles en- 
 chanted. 
 
 The night was Italian. The moon hung like a 
 burnished shield of silver in that gorgeous ether seen 
 in no other sky. The dreamy lake lay like a steel 
 mirror in the mellow light, while islands and castles 
 cast grotesque shadows on the polished surface.
 
 203 TANCREDI. 
 
 Far away in the northwest the solemn mountains 
 lifted up their spectre peaks against the azure; on tho 
 southern shore the broken hills stretched along like 
 giants asleep, and from their gloomy dells an occasional 
 convent bell rang out on the still night. 
 
 Madam Tancredi, beware of where thou art 
 drifting ! 
 
 She heeds not ! She is entranced ! She dreams 
 on the drowsy waters ; she hears *you not small voice! 
 Call louder ! 
 
 Float on, lotus-lulled woman, nor dream that thou 
 art drifting from husband, and peace and good name ! 
 
 At midnight, Tancredi, haggard and excited, en- 
 tered the place of revelry. 
 
 "Where is my wife?" he asked his sister, as soon as 
 he could catch her private ear. 
 
 " She is here. How troubled you look, Michele 
 What is the matter ?" 
 
 " But, take me to my wife; I must and will see her 
 immediately." 
 
 " Now, I think me, she is out on the lake ; it is 
 time for her return. Sit down while I order refresh- 
 ments; you look tired and hungry." 
 
 " On the lake ? Who is with her? 
 
 " A party of friends ; the Baron is one." 
 
 " Damnation !" 
 
 { ' Michele ! My brother ! Now I see ; now J
 
 TANCREDI. 203 
 
 understand all ! Do not speak it ; let me not name it ! 
 Let me appeal to thee, thus, and as thy better angel, 
 implore thee to banish the fiend from thy thoughts." 
 
 While speaking, she drew her arm around his 
 neck. 
 
 " But her conduct, my sister." 
 
 " She is sometimes imprudent, never false. She is 
 too proud to be else than true." 
 
 " Believ'st thou s^ 'my sister?" asked the miserable 
 husband, pleased to meet with doubt and opposition to 
 his suspicions. 
 
 " I am sure it is as I say ; I cannot be deceived in 
 her. And now, let thy sister advise thee ; show not 
 thyself to the company to-night, but retire at once. 
 Seem not to suspect thy wife, for if she detects thee 
 in that, thy happiness will be marred forever. 'Tis 
 thy sister that pleads with thee, thy sister, who is as 
 jealous of thy good name as thou cans't be. Go ; and 
 remember that thy wife is here by my request, and 
 that with my knowledge and consent she is now enjoy- 
 ing a harmless sail on the lake. Good- night !" 
 
 The next morning, to the astonishment of the 
 guests, the Signer put in an appearance at breakfast. 
 He showed by his demeanor that he was acting on his 
 sister's advice. 
 
 But, in spite of re-assuring remonstrances from 
 Signora Adelaide, in spite of his own reasoning and
 
 204 TANCREDI. 
 
 his sense of honor, the green-eyed monster took up its 
 residence as his skeleton-in-closet. It grinned at him 
 with fanged jaws, and by times beat at the door as if 
 about to burst forth and scandalize the world with its 
 hideousness. He succeeded in suppressing every 
 revolt, and keeping it locked up in the dark. 
 
 Early in autumn Signor Tancredi and wife crossed 
 the Spliigen Pass, traveled through Switzerland to the 
 Rhine, and down that stream to Holland, and on to 
 Paris, where they arrived in October.
 
 TANCREDI. 205 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 " Lie in the lap of Sin and not mean harm ? 
 It is hypocrisy against the devil." 
 
 AMONG the persons whom Tancredi first met in 
 Paris was the stolid and irrepressible German, Baron 
 Sebastian von Waldland. If that nobleman had been 
 endowed with the minimum sal Atticum he would 
 have instantly seen that the Signer, his late friend, 
 was anything but pleased to meet him. But either he 
 did not, or pretended not to feel the cold shoulder. 
 
 " I was looking for you everywhere, and I think 
 you was make lost, my friend," he said, as he shook 
 the Signer by the unwilling hand. 
 
 " I thought you were in Madrid by this time," 
 replied the Italian, coldly. 
 
 " I changed my mind." 
 
 Tancredi attempted to pass on, but the obtuse fel- 
 low would not be shaken. 
 
 " I am glad you come ;" said he, standing in the 
 way of the impatient Signer. "I wouldn't rent 
 rooms till I got your opinion. Will you look at them 
 to-day, and shall we go to them new ?"
 
 208 TANCREDI. 
 
 " Not to-day. I am bnt just arrived myself, and 
 not settled down. It is impossible for me to look at 
 them now." 
 
 "Well, then, to-morrow. Shall I expect you 
 to-morrow ?" 
 
 On the morrow forenoon the two men inspected 
 the rooms referred to, situated on the Rue Lafitte, and 
 as they were pronounced fit to shelter a prince, the 
 Baron closed the bargain with the petit hostess, who 
 carried enough keys at her girdle to open all the colls 
 in the Bastile itself. 
 
 In the afternoon, Tancredi rented an establishment 
 for himself and wife on the South Boulevart St. Ger- 
 main, as far removed from his evil genius as was con- 
 sistent with living in fashionable Paris. 
 
 But go where he would, he met the Baron. He 
 did not wish to quarrel with the fellow, for that would 
 require explanations which his sense of dignity could 
 not tolerate. The dullard would not take the broad 
 hints offered him. If he would only commit some 
 overt act which would serve as an ostensible excuse for 
 cutting his acquaintance ; but no, each day found him 
 more and more complaisant. 
 
 lie had, notwithstanding his stupidity, a cunning 
 force about him which inveigled the Signer into din- 
 ing with him. 
 
 " My rooms must be christened, you know," he
 
 TAXCREDI. 207 
 
 said, and, in spite of himself, Tancredi found himself 
 seated at the Baron's board, with the spirits of a monu- 
 mental urn at a funeral repast. 
 
 It was next to impossible to evade the suave but 
 pig-headed Sebastian. His stolidity was proof against 
 excuse or argument. Indeed, with him, argumentation 
 was an organic blank, as is the musical faculty in a 
 mule. He never argued, scarcely knew the meaning 
 of the term. All the indignant Signer could do was 
 to grin and bear with him, and in a measure return his 
 civilities. Before ten days had elapsed, the Baron had 
 resumed his familiar footing in the Tancredi family, 
 which had been abruptly broken off in the valley 
 of the Lira. 
 
 Madam Alice had not the slightest suspicion of 
 her husband's jealousy of the Baron, or that his 
 friendship for that person had cooled. She was really 
 gratified at the renewal of the acquaintance with the 
 droll fellow, and said so. She was a stranger in Paris, 
 and trusted that he might serve in driving away the 
 ennui which already threatened her. Her husband's 
 friends were not to appear in Paris until after Christ- 
 inas, and until they did come, it would be convenient 
 and agreeable to have near her one of the old Alpine 
 companions to talk over the exploits of the past sum- 
 mer. Besides, the Baron had the entree of good
 
 208 TANCREDI. 
 
 society, and was therefore capable of rendering her 
 good service. 
 
 She had not a spark of feeling for him that could 
 be construed into love. She had no more thought of 
 flirting with him, than she had of eloping with Signer 
 Cyrello, her brother-in-law. A feeling equally well 
 defined alike by honor and pride would have kept her 
 clear of indiscretion, even if she had been tempted to 
 flirt with the Baron ; but she was not even tempted. 
 
 And yet she liked the German nobleman in a way. 
 That way carried with it its own interpretation to her 
 conscience, but it would have been remarkable if her 
 husband and the Baron did not misinterpret her 
 behavior. 
 
 Her husband saw in her actions the occult but 
 significant encouragement of the Baron's almost open 
 passion for her. Jealousy lent him her spectacles. 
 
 The German was attracted by her smiles. Her 
 apathy for her husband confirmed him in the belief 
 that she was partial to his suit. His hope was carried 
 along by stages, until he finally believed that by devo- 
 tion and patience he was sure of his coveted prize. 
 Devotion and patience constituted his stock in trade, 
 and he settled down in earnest to the siege. 
 
 It has already been shown how Madam Tancredi 
 viewed the affair, or rather how she did not view it, 
 for as an affair it had no existence in her mind.
 
 TANCREDI. 200 
 
 She was so accustomed to flattering attentions from 
 the men that she had come to hold their homage as her 
 due, and hence she received the devotions of the Baron 
 as her right to a claim established by custom and usage. 
 She respected his title, was flattered by his keen inter- 
 est in her welfare, and grateful for his generosity ; but 
 she never dreamed of him as a lover, and least of all as 
 her lover. He was to her an unassuming, harmless, 
 good-natured fellow, too platonic for romance, and too 
 epicurean for so ethereal a passion as love. Yet she 
 did flatter herself that, next to eating and drinking, he 
 liked her better than he did any one else, just as many 
 other men of her acquaintance admired her. Thus she 
 came to monopolize his attentions, and finally to elect 
 him a kind of knight errant, for which service she paid 
 him in smiles and gracious words. 
 
 Had a friend said to her, " Beware of the Baron ! " 
 she would have laughed, and mockingly replied, beware 
 my hairdresser, the butler, the valet de chamlre, or be- 
 ware any man who serves me. Baron Sebastian is my 
 factotum, not my lover. 
 
 Thus this single and simple affair, which should 
 have been plainly intelligible to every unbiased mind, 
 was warped and colored by the three minds, weighted 
 with vanity, jealousy, and lust. 
 
 It is not a question of which passion is the more 
 blameworthy, since each one put out the eyes of reason
 
 210 TANCKEDI. 
 
 and led the victim into folly. Mischief is the inevit- 
 able sequence when a coquettish wife, a jealous hus- 
 band and a voluptuary are thrown together. The story 
 of the eating of forbidden fruit may be a fable, but it 
 contains the triune elements which make it possible. 
 
 It was about this time that Tancredi received 
 Berta's letter. 
 
 The Signer began to feel, with Othello, that his 
 occupation was gone, when he learned how readily 
 Eosetta turned from him to another. He was no longer 
 in demand among females ; even Rosetta had forgotten 
 him. The coldness of his wife surprised and pained 
 him, but he was dumbfounded at the behavior of the 
 cantatrice. If he had ever felt secure of any woman's 
 love, it was that of Rosetta's ; and, behold, it was gone ! 
 He could believe anything after that, even the incon- 
 stancy of his wife. He was prepared for any new 
 humiliation. 
 
 If Rosetta had played him false, what could he 
 expect of his wife ? The latter had never loved him 
 with the tithe of the passion felt by the former, and 
 therefore it would require less temptation to deflect 
 her from the straight line of honor and duty. He dis- 
 trusted his wife more and more after hearing of 
 Rosetta's desertion, and saw every day what were to 
 him flagrant proofs of her inconstancy. 
 
 Apart from the fact that the Baron was playing
 
 TANCREDI. 211 
 
 with fire over a powder magazine, it was amusing to 
 watch his actions in the role of a Lothario. He exhib- 
 ited three sides to view, the philosophic, the tragic and 
 the humorous. He started a problem in race physi- 
 ology. What effect has race on a lover? 
 
 The North American savage courts his dusky 
 squaw by prowess and strategy. He is fleet of foot 
 and long-winded. 
 
 The Englishman is mated by primordial stipulation 
 his matrimonial fate is provided for by decree. 
 Leisure, beef and conservatism take the place of pas- 
 sion and adventure. 
 
 The Frenchman wins his way to woman's smiles by 
 blandishment he bows and gyrates, he is agile, witty 
 and polite. 
 
 The American courts, as he does everything, in a 
 sweat. He is restless and lean, daring and ambitious. 
 
 The German Baron was lusty and healthy, stolid 
 and conceited. He had ever paid his court to woman 
 as to an inferior being a being educated to receive 
 his caresses as his light and her duty, not to be ques- 
 tioned. 
 
 But now he was paying his court to a woman grad- 
 uated in a different school. Her love was to be won, 
 not commanded ; he therefore changed his tactics. 
 His change of methods included a change in the man 
 also. He began to sweat and lose flesh. He grew
 
 212 TANCREDI. 
 
 restless, lost his appetite, drank less wine, slept less 
 soundly he went to work on the American plan. 
 
 He became more lavish and exquisite in dress and 
 jewelry, had his towy hair dyed a smoky black, drank 
 cocktails, and even went BO far as to come out a rad- 
 ical Whig, and violently assailed the administration of 
 Jackson. The Baron sank his nationality, sacrificed 
 his class prerogative, and assumed a character which, 
 although ridiculous, would have been creditable had 
 his motives been patriotic and his love honorable. 
 
 Of course Madam Tancredi's head was turned with 
 the beautiful, the voluptuous Paris, where pleasure is 
 reduced to a science, and practised as the first of all 
 fine arts. She was about to enter into its exquisite 
 mysteries, and drink of its famed enchantments. She 
 was wealthy in her own right, was young, beautiful 
 and accomplished, and wedded into a noble and influ- 
 ential family. No society was too patrician for her. 
 Her conceit began at i\\Q faubourg du beau monde, and 
 stopped in the centre of le grand cerde de Tuilleries. 
 
 Her first step was to secure an establishment in a 
 fashionable quarter, and in keeping with her rank and 
 station. She summarily vetoed the selection made by 
 her husband, and prevailed on him to secure a man- 
 sion on the handsome Boulevart des Italians, which 
 was not then filled with shops as now. 
 
 The external wonders of the city, its boulevards,
 
 TANCREDI. , 218 
 
 public bnildings, picture galleries and theatres, oc- 
 cupied her time, and afforded her passable amusement 
 until after Christmas, when the Cyrellos joined them. 
 
 Madam Alice gave a ball in honor of the arrival of 
 her sister-in-law. It was a fair success, most a success 
 as the initial of a round of merry-making in which 
 Madam played a conspicuous part, and all through 
 which, to the very close, she maintained her reputation 
 for beauty, grace and grandeur, with as much ease as 
 when she ruled queen of the more sober assemblages 
 of the American republic. 
 
 But she had her worry. With her, ambition was not 
 quite satiated. She could not forget that her position 
 in European society was due to the influential family 
 into which she had married. Every acquaintance sho 
 had made, and every pleasure enjoyed by her, were 
 owing to the patronage of her husband and his family. 
 She keenly felt the abasement. In spite of her inde- 
 pendence she was dependent. This proud, self-willed 
 American, imbued from her cradle up with the 
 doctrine of equal rights that seductive slogan of 
 republics could no more brook social kings than 
 political kings. She felt herself the equal of any 
 Tancredi that ever wore a coronet. 
 
 This subjection, so galling to her pride, was one 
 reason why she treated her husband so disdainfully. 
 She could not shake off the Italian guiding reins, but
 
 214 TANCREDI. 
 
 she took the bit in her teeth and run away with tho 
 proprieties. She was exacting, tyrannical, imprudent 
 and headstrong. She selected the Paris residence, and 
 she claimed proprietorship over Baron Sebastian. 
 
 At a soiree given by Madam Milon, a friend and 
 schoolmate of Signora Adelaide, she met, for the first, 
 time since her marriage, the Yicompte Bertrand, the 
 attache of the French Legation at Washington, and 
 spoken of in a former chapter of this book. 
 
 Here was one acquaintance she did not owe to her 
 husband or his family. He was her own friend, and, 
 compared with those about her, an old familiar friend. 
 She had met him in the long ago, during the romantic 
 days of maidenhood, in America, at home. 
 
 Those who, on distant shores, have met persons 
 from home, from the same loved home, will appreciate 
 Madam's feelings at meeting the Count under such 
 circumstances as surrounded her. The heart almost 
 leaps out to meet our acquaintances on such occasions. 
 Long and bitter feuds have been forgotten and for- 
 given by an accidental meeting among Alpine solitudes, 
 and the coldness of a formal acquaintance has melted 
 into the warmest friendship by a toilsome companion- 
 ship among the snows of Jung Frau, or the glaciers of 
 Mont Blanc, 
 
 The stately atmosphere surrounding Madam was 
 quickened by the warm presence of her friend, Count
 
 TANCREDI. 215 
 
 Bertrand. The sight of him awakened memories of 
 home and country. He was at her side in a moment, 
 pouring into her willing ear congratulations at her 
 marriage, and his pleasure at meeting her in his native 
 land. 
 
 " Welcome to Paris, my dear Madam, welcome ! 
 If you will permit one to greet you, who is himself 
 but just arrived after an absence of three years.'' 
 
 " Thank you, Count Bertrand. But are you just 
 come from America ? And what news do you bring 
 from there ? Pray sit down beside me and tell me, for 
 I am starving to hear from home." 
 
 " But just arrived, Madam, and the news I bring 
 is, your countrymen are preparing for the coup 
 d'etat ; what do you call him ?" 
 
 " Change of administration ?" 
 
 " Yes ; the inauguration of President Van Buren. 
 What a mistake your General Jacksong make ! 
 What opportunities ! What a destiny he throw away ! 
 He like the Grand Emperor in everything but that. 
 Bonaparte not act the infant, the imbecile, like that ! 
 The Grand Bank! The Grand Armee 1 Tour infant 
 Jacksong he fling zem all away ! The imbecile !" 
 
 " You don't understand. My countrymen are all 
 sovereigns, and jealous of other rulers, even of Jackson, 
 the man of whom they are proud. The people ore 
 wary of bestowing patronage and power in the hands
 
 210 TANCREDI. 
 
 of their officials, and they are right. Were the people 
 of the United States to give their President the Bank, 
 it would be giving him vast patronage and power, 
 which would be the source of danger in the hands of 
 the unscrupulous. All honor to Jackson for refusing 
 it ! We might as well give our President a crown as a 
 National Bank." 
 
 " Ah ! Bien Dieu ! That the mistake, the grand 
 mistake of America ! The ignorant, the demagogue, 
 the irresponsible to rule ; that the grand mistake ! It 
 can' t last forever." 
 
 " No government lasts that long, not even France, 
 that has experimented with all forms of government 
 from imperialism to anarchism, and back again, and 
 yet contented herself with none. But tell me some- 
 thing outside of politics, for it is plain that you and I 
 will not agree on that topic. Tell me of American 
 society, what it says and does." 
 
 " It misses the charming Miss Bannemead." 
 
 " Ah, I see you have not forgotten how to flatter ! 
 I should think that after three years sojourn among 
 plain dealing republicans you would have learned 
 what candor means. You are the true Parisian still !" 
 
 "Shall I tell you, candid, what I learned in 
 America ?" 
 
 Yes, pray." 
 
 " I learned that you are the most charming woman
 
 TANCREDI. 217 
 
 in the world. You deserve Paris, and Paris deserves 
 you." 
 
 " There you go, again ! Worse, and more of it ! 
 You don't believe the half you say." 
 
 " Not believe ! Ah, it is you who doubts ! You 
 will never know how I worship you !" 
 
 " I shall put your devotion to a severe test, nay, to 
 many severe trials, ere I leave Paris, iny friend. But 
 before the ordeal of battle, I give you one more chance 
 to renounce your hasty declaration." 
 
 " Learn then that I am your slave. See, my ship's 
 burning !" 
 
 " There, that will do, Count Bertrand. I will not 
 allow you to compromise your freedom in so forlorn a 
 cause. Kepentance will follow your rashness, and you 
 will desert me at last. Beware !" 
 
 " Put me to the test, Madam ; I am ready to 
 obey your every command." 
 
 " Well, I am here to enjoy Paris ; you can help 
 me. Can I count on your knightship ?" 
 
 " I pledge my glove to lift lance in no cause but 
 thine." 
 
 This conversation was only the badinage of temper- 
 ament, seasoned with the hyperbole of polite license, 
 and as harmless as the sparks struck from flint and 
 steel. At least it was harmless while it remained the 
 confidential by-play of two wits, as were Madam and
 
 218 TANCREDI. 
 
 the Count. But unfortunately such jeu de mots are 
 too often followed by conduct correspondingly free 
 and easy, when it is no longer simple pleasantry 
 between two friends. 
 
 The flirtations carried on between Madam Alice 
 and Count Bertrand were not concealed, nor was there 
 attempt at concealment, since they were only meant as 
 innocent pastime of two dashing people. But society, 
 and especially the observant and suspicious husband, 
 was not so charitable as to view their conduct as 
 they meant it should he viewed. 
 
 The Baron, too, saw and formed his opinion. He 
 took pains to impress the Count with his competitive 
 presence, and the two men tacitly agreed to hold each 
 other as enemies. The Baron was inclined to show his 
 teeth, but the gay Count treated him with the disdain 
 he would a menial, which only exasperated the Ger- 
 man that much the more. 
 
 Madam Alice looked on and smiled at the rivalry. 
 To her it had no serious aspect, and was only a stir- 
 ring compliment to her. Not many ladies could 
 boast of having two noblemen at dagger's point on 
 their account. It required the most skillful finessing 
 to maintain her supremacy with both lovers. Partial- 
 ity shown either would offend the other, and possibly 
 precipitate a discreditable scene. The Baron was the 
 more stubborn and troublesome, while the less impor-
 
 TANCKEDL 219 
 
 tunate Frenchman was disposed to yield rather than 
 endure the presence of his despicable rival. 
 
 Let not the behavior of these two gentlemen be 
 misunderstood. It was not flagrant, it was scarcely 
 indiscreet, and is equalled every day by society men, 
 who are not supposed to infringe on the rules of deco- 
 rum. Their conduct was reprehensible, chiefly be- 
 cause of its exclusiveness toward a married woman 
 with a jealous husband. 
 
 The truth is, Madam Alice, although not always 
 circumspect, was sagacious, and firm as a rock ; it was 
 no effort for her to permit passion's wave to rise so 
 far, but no farther. While her speech and manner 
 had in thorn the banter of invitation, yet there was a 
 proud haughtiness in her demeanor that restrained her 
 admirers, and kept them within the bounds of respect- 
 ful moderation. 
 
 The Baron, too, was cautious, and ye-tbis sneaking, 
 underhand ways, indicated the degree of his infatua- 
 tion and determination. The attentions of the viva- 
 cious Frenchman were open, and, in a way, manly. 
 His bonhomie gave him license ; she laughed at his 
 compliments, and treated his vows as the empty gal- 
 lantries of a privileged courtier.
 
 22C TANCREDI. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 " High minds of native pride and force, 
 Most deeply feel thy pting's, remorse." 
 
 FIFTY years ago ! If any one lives who knew 
 Paris that long ago, they will surely recollect the cafe 
 restaurant, Cadran Bleu, at that time, and for many 
 years the most famous establishment of its kind in 
 that city, and, for that matter, in the world. It was 
 situated fronting on the Boulevard du Temple. On 
 the first floor front, was a cozy alcove, formed by a 
 partition built to conceal an unused stairway. This 
 retreat, named trou dans le mur, contained a small 
 table and two chairs, and was the favorite lounging 
 place for the idler who was fortunate to find it vacant. 
 In addition to its seclusion it afforded its occupant 
 opportunity for seeing all that went on in the main 
 saloon without himself being seen. 
 
 It was two days after the court ball, given by the 
 King, Louis Phillipe, that Yicornpte Bertrand was seated 
 in this alcove, leisurely sipping wine and smoking a 
 cigar. He gazed abstractedly out the front window 
 at the throng on the street, while his thoughts ran on 
 the king's ball and the people he had met there.
 
 TANCREDI. 221 
 
 Among them, and now uppermost in his thoughts, 
 was Madam Tancredi, who rivaled the proudest 
 beauties of the brilliant French court. Her dress, 
 worn on the occasion, was a marvel of gorgeous 
 beauty, and never was her loveliness more bewitching 
 or her wit more sparkling than when she stood among 
 the illustrious throng that filled the salons of the 
 Tuilleries. The praise of Le Belle Americaine was on 
 every tongue ; the Citizen King himself honored her 
 with flattering notice. 
 
 The gratified husband forgot his heart-burnings as 
 he watched his prond wife. Her triumph, to his 
 mind, was the deserved tribute paid the most admira- 
 ble woman in the world. As she swept past him lean- 
 ing on the arm of a prince, his heart swelled with joy 
 and pride. She filled the measure of his ideal woman, 
 for whom no sacrifice was too great if repaid by her 
 smiles. 
 
 But her smiles that evening were not for him. He 
 was consoled, however, when he saw that she had no 
 smiles for her usual satellites, the Count and the 
 Baron. 
 
 The persevering Baron, by rare fortune, or by his 
 impudence, did manage to secure her for a brief waltz. 
 With this exception, the two rivals were baffled at 
 every turn by more distinguished suitors, and they
 
 222 TANCREDI. 
 
 expressed their common chagrin by scowling at each 
 other. 
 
 All this was running through the Count's mii.d as 
 he lounged in the hole-in-the-wall at the Cadran Bleu. 
 He had not met Madam Tancredi since the ball; and 
 he regretted the rash vow he had made to never see 
 her again. He sighed, and poured out another glass 
 of wine. 
 
 He now became conscious of the presence of a loud- 
 talking party of gentlemen in the main saloon, where 
 they sat around a table drinking. A remark made by 
 one of them, struck his ear as a familiar voice, and on 
 looking through the small opening in the wall he saw 
 that the speaker was Baron Sebastian von Waldland. 
 
 "And you, too, Baron, are one of the favored 
 friends of the beautiful American ; how lucky !" 
 
 " I have that distinguished honor," replied tho 
 Baron, with affected modesty. 
 
 " You even danced with her at the Tuilleries Ball ! 
 Lucky fellow ! Where did you make her acquaint- 
 ance ?" 
 
 " In Lombardy. I passed the summer with her 
 and her husband." 
 
 " What sort of a person is he ? The Signor looks 
 distinguished, and, I am told, is an Italian nobleman." 
 
 " Oh, he's so, so ! He is an Italian nobleman ; but
 
 TAKCREDI. 223 
 
 what of that ? I don't think his wife cares ranch for 
 him," answered Sebastian in a contemptuous tone. 
 
 " Indeed ! Why, he appears very fond of, and 
 devoted to her. How's that?" 
 
 " Oh, very watchful and jealous, you mean," 
 exclaimed Waldland. 
 
 " Jealous? Of whom should he be jealous, pray ?" 
 
 " That is a leading question ; do you think it would 
 be just the square thing to give that person away ?" 
 asked the Baron, with a wink, and a leer around the 
 table. 
 
 " O, Lord ! Not jealous of you, Sebastian !" 
 exclaimed one of the party. 
 
 They all laughed at the contemplation of Tancre- 
 di's endangered honor, and the vanity of the Baron in 
 the invidious inuendo which made him out the intri- 
 guer. 
 
 The laugh was interpreted aright, for he attempted 
 to look savage. 
 
 " Why, didn't you know that the Baron is a lady- 
 killer 3" asked one of the gentlemen, who appeared to 
 be but slightly impressed with the ridiculous bravado 
 of his companion. 
 
 " No ! you don't tell me ! I have heard him 
 spoken of as one who has killed his man, but never as 
 a lady-killer," replied another, with the evident intent 
 of ridiculing the statement made by the Baron,
 
 324 TANCREDI. 
 
 " Well, I suppose we may look for a duel one of 
 these mornings before breakfast. What say you, 
 Sebastian ; is there a prospect for a fight between you 
 and the Italian ?" 
 
 "Amuse yourselves, gentlemen," replied the 
 Baron, goaded into showing his mettle. " Your talk 
 may have a more serious meaning than you intend." 
 
 " What ! has it gone so far as that 2" 
 
 "It has gone so far that the Signer, who was my 
 best friend, is now my worst foe. What can be his 
 grudge if it is not his wife's partiality for me, and 
 mine for her ?" 
 
 " Do you really think that she is partial to you, or 
 that the Signer's coldness for you is caused by the sus- 
 picion that you are her lover ?" 
 
 " What else ? But what care I ? Is she not worth 
 risking a life for? For her I would fight a duel any 
 day. Say, you who have seen her, is she not worth 
 fighting for ?" 
 
 " Her beauty and grace are unquestionable ; but 
 will fighting win her ? For my part I do not think so. 
 She is not the style of women that get mixed up in 
 our too common liaisons," said a pale youth, who 
 spoke for the first time. 
 
 " Ah, Clarence ; child. You are always looking 
 at women as you do at your paintings beauty and 
 virtue, one and inseparable. All beautiful women are
 
 TANCREDI. 235 
 
 not Madonnas, my friend," said the Baron in a patron- 
 izing manner. 
 
 " And you are always placing a base construction 
 on the acts of every woman who may be polite to you. 
 A chaste woman might as well sleep under a Upas as 
 look kindly on you. Now, I believe that this beauti- 
 ful American has been polite to you and nothing 
 more," retorted the young artist, with a rising flush of 
 anger on his pale face. 
 
 "I'll wager you a thousand francs and the supper 
 that before next May, Madam Tancredi will be with 
 me in Madrid," exclaimed the Baron, rising to his 
 feet. 
 
 " I accept the wager," defiantly cried the artist, 
 throwing down his purse on the table. 
 
 Count Bertrand sprang from the alcove with the 
 agility of a cat and dashed a glass of wine in the sur- 
 prised Baron's face. 
 
 " Scoundrel ! Tou shall answer for this ! You 
 know where to find me," exclaimed Bertrand, and was 
 gone before the party could fully realize what was 
 done. 
 
 As the Count anticipated, he was that evening 
 waited on by a friend of the Baron with a challenge 
 to fight. 
 
 ''I name the Grand Cascade, Bois de Boulogne, 
 10*
 
 226 TANCREDI. 
 
 the place; sunrise to-morrow, the time; the rapier, the 
 weapon," was the answer. 
 
 It is not necessary to accompany the duellos to the 
 sanguinary field. By staying away the battle can be 
 waged to suit the more or less martial disposition of 
 the individual reader, and fancy can have full play in 
 the field drama, accordingly as it shall endow the rival 
 swordsmen with skill, bravery, or good fortune. Of 
 course it is probable that all will sympathize with the 
 gallant Frenchman, who has undertaken the perilous 
 task of punishing the traducer of a lovely woman's 
 character ; but history must be inexorable if worthy of 
 credence, even if patriots bleed in vain, traitors trail 
 freedom in the dust, or woman's tarnished honor goes 
 unredressed. The Count was disabled by receiving an 
 ugly but not mortal thrust in his sword arm. The 
 Baron immediately fled. 
 
 Too many persons knew of the affair, besides it 
 was too fond a sensation, to remain a secret from the 
 gossipy Parisians, and before twenty-four hours the 
 duel was the talk of the town. 
 
 Tancredi and wife were seated at breakfast when 
 he first learned of the affair by reading the account in 
 a newspaper. 
 
 " So, Madam, your penchant for surrounding your- 
 self with profligate adventurers is beginning to bear 
 fruit! Read that!"
 
 TANCREDT. 237 
 
 The alarmed woman seized the paper and read 
 what is given here as a translation. 
 
 " Two gentlemen, well known in tlie fashionable 
 circles of Paris, have just terminated a sanguinary 
 conflict with rapiers in the Bois du Boulogne. 
 Yicompte Bertrand Tridensat is the victim, having 
 been transfixed by the weapon of his rival, Baron 
 Sebastian von Waldland, and it is thought cannot 
 recover. The Baron has fled from France. It is the 
 more pity, since the quarrel grew out of the jealous 
 rivalry between the two noblemen for the favors of 
 the woman called the Belle Americaine, who so 
 recently flashed like a comet on society. It is said 
 that she tried the experiment of dividing her charms 
 among three men her husband, and the two lovers. 
 The result is the duel, which proves what has been 
 proven so often before, that such an amorous feat is 
 impossible. She was foolish, but the greater fools 
 they. She may, now that she is likely to have leisure, 
 profit by looking up the precepts of Monsieur 
 Franklin, her illustrious countryman." 
 
 As she finished reading, the paper fell from her 
 hands, and she turned in consternation to meet her 
 husband's anger. He was gone ! She rang for her 
 maid, who assisted her to her room. 
 
 Servants were sent in search of the Signer, and
 
 228 TANCliEDI. 
 
 others dispatched to summon Signora Adelaide. The 
 husband could not be found ; the sister-in-law hurried 
 to the Boulevart des Italiens, where she was immedi- 
 ately shown into the presence of Madam Tancredi. 
 
 " You have heard ! I see by your face you have 
 heard !" exclaimed Madam Alice, hastening forward 
 to meet the Signora. 
 
 " Alas ! yes, my sister I have heard !" 
 
 " But the cruel newspapers the heartless account 
 they give have you seen them ? And do you think 
 me the guilty thing they make me ?" 
 
 "No, sister; no. I shall believe that much I 
 know ; that much and nothing more." 
 
 " Oh ! tell me what you do believe what you 
 have seen in my conduct deserving of blame. Tell 
 me help me to conclude, for I cannot think for my- 
 self. As God is my judge I never meant to do 
 
 " Ah, my sister, we sometimes do wrong when we 
 mean it not. Your wrong is that, nothing more, noth- 
 ing worse. That is what I think of your conduct." 
 
 " Thank you for that ! Oh, I thank you for that, 
 my kindest and best of sisters," cried the distressed 
 woman, putting her arms around her sister's neck. 
 
 The two women talked the matter over until they 
 came to understand, trust and love each other, as they 
 never had before. The American was contrite and
 
 TANCKEDI. 329 
 
 humble, the Italian forbearing and tender. Madam 
 bogged the Signora to intercede with Signer Tancredi 
 on her behalf. 
 
 " Had I heeded your sisterly admonitions, my best 
 of friends, had I patterned after your discreet exam- 
 ple, I would not now be suffering from shame and 
 remorse. I must set about repairing my errors at 
 once, and I wish to begin by asking my husband to 
 forgive and restore me to his confidence." 
 
 Taucredi could not be found. It was two days 
 before he returned to his house. 
 
 On leaving his wife reading the account of the 
 duel, he went straightway to the prefecture de police, 
 where he learned that the department had no official 
 knowledge of the combat or the whereabouts of the 
 combatants. He next visited the lodgings of the 
 principals, but their servants knew nothing, or affected 
 to know nothing, of their masters' movements. He 
 made a trip to the spot where the duel was said to 
 have taken place. From a keeper of the Bois he 
 learned that a person supposed to be one of the duelists 
 was seen on the morning of the fight hurriedly cross- 
 ing the bridge that leads to the Versailles highway. 
 He followed to that city to learn that the fugitive had 
 fled toward Tours. Arrived there he lost all trace of 
 the Baron, for the description suited that person ; when 
 he returned to Paris. He revisited the lodgings of
 
 230 TANCREDI. 
 
 Count Bertrand, wliere lie found that nobleman, and 
 to whose presence lie was admitted. 
 
 lie learned from the Count the full particulars of 
 the cause which led to the encounter, and, of course, 
 how Madam Tancredi became implicated in the scan- 
 dal. 
 
 Throughout the interview the Signor acted in the 
 most dignified and honorable manner. It is true he 
 did not, he could not, condone the scandal by extend- 
 ing his hand in fellowship to the poor Count who 
 craved it, but lie thanked him for his intentions, 
 which he thought were possibly honorable. 
 
 " You should have remembered that I am the only 
 custodian of my wife's honor. Yon should also have 
 foreseen that any attempt on your part to vindicate 
 my wife's reputation would result in misunderstand- 
 ing and misrepresentation by the public, even as it is 
 misunderstood and misrepresented. Your act places 
 me in a delicate and mortifying position, and you 
 must see and agree that henceforth our hitherto 
 friendly relations must terminate." 
 
 The information obtained at the interview with 
 Count Bertrand modified and mollified his indignation 
 toward his wife. He now saw that, although she had 
 been indiscreet, she was innocent of any direct com- 
 plicity in the disgraceful affair. He blamed her for 
 encouraging the presence of such a debauchee as the
 
 TANCREDI. 231 
 
 Baron had proved himself to be, but lie cleared her of 
 any flagrant wrong-doing. His entrance into her 
 presence was, therefore, marked by the most praise- 
 worthy tenderness and forbearance on his part. She 
 clung to him imploring his forgiveness, and manifest- 
 ing more hearty consideration for him than ever 
 before. She saw and appreciated the delicate though 
 spirited indignation that prompted him to terminate 
 the friendship between her and the Count ; while he, 
 on the other hand, was re-assured by her humble peni- 
 tence. 
 
 The storm that shook the domestic sky, lulled into 
 quietude, and vanishing clouds let in more and more 
 beautiful sunlight than ever shone on them before. 
 They began to entertain for each other, if not love, 
 respect, a passion more reliable, more reasonable and 
 more enduring. 
 
 It was agreed, for reasons that are apparent, that 
 they should leave Paris forthwith. Tancredi was 
 joined by his sister in favor of !Maples, but Madam, 
 was so tired of society, so broken by the scandal, and 
 so homesick, that a compromise was made on Phila- 
 delphia. Inside a week, Signor Tancredi and wife 
 were on their way to America.
 
 TANCREDI. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 " And you, my friend ! how shall I thank you ? 
 What shall I do to show my grateful heart ?" 
 
 THESE few more last words connected with the 
 subject of the duel, may seem chronologically out of 
 place ; but some reparation seems due the gallant 
 Count Bertrand, who risked his life to vindicate a 
 lady's good name, and who, after receiving a wound 
 in her cause, was summarily excluded from the society 
 and friendship of the family he had so disinterestedly 
 served, and whose gratitude he deserved. If repara- 
 tion is to be made, it must be made here. 
 
 Besides, the historian has recently come into pos- 
 session of additional and later testimony in the case, 
 testimony which is sufficiently important to open up 
 the case, repair the injustice done the Count, and vin- 
 dicate the honor of the family of Tancredi. 
 
 The two very brief letters referred to as new testi- 
 mony, came into our possession lately, through the 
 kindness of a renowned tenor singer, who spent 
 some time in Paris, where he became acquainted with 
 and warmly attached to Count Bertrand. 
 
 It will be seen that the author of the first letter
 
 TANCREDL 238 
 
 was the son of Madam Tancredi. It will also be seen 
 that he, happily, knew absolutely nothing of his 
 mother's reputation as a coquette, but only knew that 
 Count Bertrand had once performed for her a gallant 
 deed, in that he attempted to punish the traducer of 
 her character. 
 
 And that was all he should have known of that 
 transaction. Had he, unfortunately, known all, it is 
 probable that his filial piety would have suffered a 
 severe strain, and it is almost certain that shame would 
 have prevented him from doing justice to the brave 
 Count. 
 
 Oblivion, after all, is kind, if not just. It does 
 seem sad and cruel to see noble deeds the heroism 
 and romance of the past, prostrated and broken by that 
 insatiable iconoclast, Oblivion ! But there is in it all, 
 a beautiful compensating mercy in the burial of the 
 ugliness and wickedness which marred the symmetry 
 of the lost creation. 
 
 Young Castlerank has been engaged for the past 
 three years in sowing wild oats. He fled from home 
 and country the other night to escape an appalling 
 harvest. 
 
 What a much larger crop he would have sown had 
 he known of his father's youthful labors in the same 
 field ! Pretty girls and wild oats are not modern 
 products, nor their cultivation modern industries.
 
 234 TANCREDL 
 
 Old men charge young men with being the wick- 
 edest of all times. The accusation is a libel on youth 
 and the present age. Morals are older, immorals 
 fresher ; morality lingers with the aged, and is the last 
 glimmering spark of virtue that goes out with the 
 dying heart, while immorality runs riot in young 
 blood and gambols with the lambs. That is a great 
 difference, and why they are so easily distinguished 
 from each other. 
 
 Oblivion covers np the dens and ravages of the old 
 foxes; the ancient reynards forget what cunning 
 cubs they were among their neighbors pullets. They 
 were right in giving up their youthful follies, even 
 in memory, but wrong in expecting the young to give 
 them up. If blood will tell, and it will, then fathers 
 should expect their boys to sow wild oats. 
 
 But, the letters. 
 
 Philadelphia, Sept. 30, 18. 
 To Count BERTRAND TEIDENSAT. 
 My Dear old Friend. 
 
 I hasten to write you a note on the heels of 
 my letter of yesterday. 
 
 I meet with surprises every hour. At this rate 
 I shall be compelled to write you every day, or lose 
 my identity altogether. Sometimes, even now, I 
 pinch myself to see if it is myself.
 
 TANCREDI. 235 
 
 Learn what I have fresh discovered ! 
 
 I incidentally mentioned your name and title to 
 Madam, who is now my mother, no longer ago than 
 last night. She was greatly moved when I informed 
 her that you and I are as bosom friends. 
 
 What, think you, she did ? 
 
 No less than take me to her boudoir, where, after 
 having locked the door, she proceeded to narrate the 
 account of a duel which was fought on her account, 
 and in which a certain gentleman of my acquaintance 
 was severely wounded. 
 
 So, mon vieux. you had your wise secret from me 
 all the time we have known each other ! What a sly 
 old comrade it was not to disclose its romance to me ! 
 But you see how cleverly a woman has exposed you ! 
 And I bless you more for good than ever ! Protector 
 of my mother's good name, I thank you everything. 
 Adieu, 
 
 C. TANCEEDI. 
 
 PABIS, Nov. 4th, 18. 
 C!ABL TANCEEDI. 
 
 Mon cher Garcon : 
 
 What do you think happened ? The little fille 
 de "boutique^ Fanchon, came tripping into my room 
 just as I sat down to enjoy your letters, and I think is 
 now my enemy, because I would not allow her to read
 
 238 TANCREDI. 
 
 them. She affects to believe that you have another 
 sweetheart in America; but I understood her ruse. 
 We compromised by allowing her to furnish the papier 
 a lettre for my reply. Her message to you is the per- 
 fume on the paper, jessamine, it is not, and exquisite ? 
 
 Say nothing of thanks, my dear boy, for what you 
 are kind enough to consider a deed of valor on my 
 part. You know very little about it. It was not con- 
 sidered valorous at the time, I painfully remember, 
 now nearly a quarter of a century ago ; at least one of 
 the persons most interested did not applaud my action 
 in the matter. But times are changed, and opinions 
 also. 
 
 I proceed to tell you something never told before ; 
 and which no one but I can tell. 
 
 Baron Sebastian von Waldland fled to Madrid, I 
 think to escape the vengeance of your father, the Sig- 
 nor. Six months after the duel I heard of his where- 
 abouts and followed him there, determined to renew 
 the combat ; for, you see, it was an accident that dis- 
 abled me, and not his skill, my foot rolled on a loose 
 stick. 
 
 When I reached Madrid he was dead stabbed by 
 a stiletto in the hands of an outraged husband. I 
 stood on his grave. 
 
 In haste, yours, as ever, 
 
 B. TRIDENSAT.
 
 TANCREDI. 237 
 
 CHAPTER XXIY. 
 
 " Thy words convince me ; all my doubts vanish." 
 
 WHEN Rosetta Godardo returned to her fireside, 
 after having seen her lover off on his voyage, she sat 
 down alone and meditated over her new environments. 
 Joy was the dominant emotion in her breast joy at 
 having been rescued from the toils which Tancredi 
 had woven about her. But a short time since her 
 every thought was how to win him back ; now her joy 
 was at her escape from his thralldom. 
 
 And yet, there was a lurking disquiet in her mind ; 
 a disquiet which was akin to dread and remorse. She 
 strove to banish the feeling, but it asserted itself more 
 and more strongly, until it became the cruel absorbing 
 thought. 
 
 This disquiet was because she had not told John 
 Taplan fully and candidly all there was to tell of her 
 history before she consented to become his wife. She 
 had presumed on his clemency in advance of the claim 
 on which his forgiveness was predicated. Next to the 
 doubtful honesty of withholding the statement due him, 
 and which he must know sooner or later, was the pain-
 
 238 TANCREDI 
 
 ful thought that explanations and statements would 
 not now come with the same spontaneous grace, nor 
 be received by him with the same respect, as they 
 would had she made a clean breast of it at the start. 
 
 John Taplan was her accepted lover ; and what a 
 lover ! How delicate, how considerate of her feelings, 
 how concerned for her welfare! And what a trust he 
 had confided in her! " You are innocent : that is all I 
 have the right to know, all I wish to know," were his 
 very words. Was her candor equal to this trust? 
 Was her innocence equal to his confidence? And his 
 considerate kindness in providing for her welfare 
 during his absence ! " My future wife must look to 
 me alone for support," he had said. She was no 
 longer dependent on the bounty of a false lover the 
 wages of shame ! She was provided for by the purest 
 and noblest of men ! How should she, how could 
 she repay him for his generosity ? How, indeed ! 
 
 By making him a true, devoted wife ; by helping 
 him. Helping him ! How could she help him, as she 
 understood help ! Her mother had helped her father 
 by spinning while he was absent on the bay of Naples. 
 She could not spin, but she could sing. 
 
 Happy thought 1 She would return to the stage ! 
 While John was looking out on the dark ocean for a 
 pathway for his ship, she would sing into fame and
 
 TANCREDI. 239 
 
 fortune, all for liini. He should leave the wild and 
 perilous sea, and stay with her forever. 
 
 She fell asleep in her chair and dreamed that she 
 stood before the footlights and received the plaudits 
 of a house packed with people enraptured at her sing- 
 ing. Flowers covered the stage and rolled at her feet. 
 She looked for John Taplan in the vast audience, 
 when she was startled by Tancredi, who came on the 
 stage and placed a glittering necklace of diamonds 
 around her throat. She shrieked at his touch, and 
 awoke to find that the mischievous Berta had stolen 
 into the room and touched her throat with a ball of 
 the first snow of the young winter. 
 
 " Mio Dio ! How you frighten one ! naughty 
 Berta ! It was you, then, who spoiled my beautiful 
 drearn !" 
 
 " Of what wert thou dreaming, pretty one?" 
 
 " Of the stage, and singing thereon. O Berta, the 
 crowds of people that clapped their hands and filled 
 the stage with flowers ! It was at my singing." 
 
 "Yes, I am sure of that! When sang'st thou that 
 thou wert not smothered with flowers and applause ?" 
 
 "Never, indeed, kind Berta ! Why, oh, why did 
 I ever quit the glorious stage ?" 
 
 " Better ask thyself, why not return to the stage. 
 Thou sing'st better than ever before ; triumph awaits 
 thee if thou wilt return to thy profession."
 
 240 TANCREDI. 
 
 " Believ'st tliou so, sweet Berta ? I am almost 
 persuaded thou art right, and that I should go back 
 where I ever triumphed. But I have no one to aid 
 me in this cold country." 
 
 " Send for Michele ; he will fly to thy aid." 
 
 " God's curses on you for saying that !" exclaimed 
 Kosetta, in a tumultuous burst of fury, as she sprang 
 from her seat and confronted the frightened maid. 
 
 " The Madonna preserve me ! What have I done 
 that thou should'st speak so fiercely, and look so 
 terrible ?" 
 
 " Done ! I'll tell you what you have done. You 
 have roused up a fiend. If I thought that you are 
 scheming to re-instate your master in the unholy 
 alliance which once disgraced me, I would take this 
 dagger and hew your false heart into pieces so small 
 that Eternal Wrath would not find it when he came 
 to reckon with your treacherous soul !" 
 
 Berta sank on a seat, thoroughly cowed and 
 frightened. 
 
 " Send for Michele ! Let me speak it once for all, 
 and heed you well what I now say, that, rather than 
 accept favor from Tancredi, I would breathe in the 
 foul vapors to destroy speech, attaint my blood with 
 leprosy to blot out beauty, and work my fingers down 
 to the bone earning my daily bread. I would creep 
 into a reeking charnel house and make famine food
 
 TANCREDI. 241 
 
 of carrion corpse rather than accept one penny of his 
 prostituted bounty !" 
 
 She paused in her rage, while she caught the 
 terrified Berta firmly by the shoulder, as if she would 
 drag her from her seat. 
 
 " And if ever I descend to pander to his baseness 
 again, ma} r the Great God, in his deep wrath, drive me 
 forth a maniac wanderer over the earth, to die at last 
 among strangers and fill an unknown pauper's grave !" 
 
 Berta put her hands to her ears and shrieked in 
 terror, while the Godardo, exhausted by the violence 
 of her raving, fell prostrate on the floor. Lying there, 
 panting and writhing for a few awful moments, she at 
 length reached out her hands toward the horror stricken 
 Berta, who tremblingly seized them and raised the 
 poor girl from the floor. 
 
 " The Great Father have mercy on us and pardon 
 our sins ! But. what has come over thee, my poor 
 child ?" 
 
 " Hush, Berta !" she said in a hoarse whisper, 
 while tears filled her eyes, and she sobbed aloud. 
 " Why wilt thou persist in talking of that wicked 
 man ! Thou know'st that it drives me mad, mad, 
 mad ! Let us banish him from our thoughts, for 
 ever." 
 
 Kosetta turned to the window and looked out on 
 the night. The ground was covered with snow, or as
 
 243 TANCREDI. 
 
 it seemed to her, with a mantle of peace and purity. 
 She thought of the young sailor, watching far out at 
 sea the cold sea, that suffered no mantle of snow to 
 cover its restless and unpityiug bosom. God's emblem 
 of peace and purity was falling all around John Tap- 
 Ian, but the wrathful winds swept it into the absorbing 
 sea. 
 
 John Taplan's distraction all banished when he 
 landed at the pier and met Kosetta with her hearty 
 welcome. The impetuous woman at once introduced 
 the subject uppermost in her thoughts, and the first 
 thing done when they reached the cottage, was to tell 
 John the full and true story of her life. She told the 
 whole of it without evasion, prevarication or reserva- 
 tion ; told it so thoroughly and plainly that her lover 
 understood it better than she did herself, or, which 
 more clearly expresses the situation, saw better than 
 she what part of her life to condemn, how much to 
 regret, and how far pity and charity might excuse or 
 pardon her in it all. To his mental vision she was 
 more sinned against than sinning. 
 
 Perhaps he saw aright. It is well to keep in mind 
 how his love for her may have blinded him to her 
 frailties ; but who has the heart to condemn his clem- 
 ency condemn him for taking the side on which 
 Mercy stands ? 
 
 Society is not prepared to acquit John Taplan of
 
 TANCREDI. 243 
 
 blame for espousing a fallen woman ; it certainly is not 
 ready to applaud his action. Prudery, if it says noth- 
 ing more bitter, will say that he was a fool. 
 
 Why a fool? 
 ***** 
 
 Bah ! Who can tolerate such nauseating inconsis- 
 tency ? 
 
 Where the inconsistency ? 
 
 The inconsistency of giving welcome hands to fast 
 men and tramping fast women back into the mire. 
 
 A chaste, respectable woman can marry without 
 question or comment a Don Juan whose intrigues are 
 notorious. Keverse the conditions, and what a howl 
 goes up from Christian throats ! 
 
 If the popular rule now applied to females were 
 applied to males with the same unrelenting and mer- 
 ciless stringency, the Malthus theory would no longer 
 be a stumbling block to political economists. 
 
 The most prudent marriage between two persons 
 of approved chastity may turn out calamitous. Fidel- 
 ity after marriage is of more importance than chastity 
 before marriage, important as is the latter. And now, 
 if the marriage contract meditated between Taplan 
 and the Godardo turns out bad, this history will see 
 to it that the blame shall not be laid on the former 
 misfortune of the woman. 
 
 Eosetta made one serious blunder at this time she
 
 244 TANCREDI. 
 
 concealed from her lover her determination to return 
 to the operatic stage. Her motive for this secresy 
 was emotional, and therefore pardonable in a woman. 
 Her motive was to give him an agreeable surprise. 
 Her heart leaped with joy in anticipation of her tri- 
 umph and his astonishment. Some time on his return 
 from his cruise, he would find her famous, with the 
 New World at her feet. He would hear her name 
 sounded on praising lips, he would see her name in 
 great flaming red posters, he would read flattering 
 accounts of her in the newspapers. And the wealth 
 she would bring ! She would empty the gold, the 
 wages of her triumph, into his lap, and say, it is 
 thine, as I am thine ! 
 
 The little woman chuckled with delight at the 
 prospective glory which awaited her scheme, the 
 sweetest part of which would be the sly way she 
 would bring it about, and the sudden glare with which 
 it would burst on her lover. It would dazzle him ! 
 
 She never once thought that he might aid her, or, 
 possibly object to her going on the stage. John was 
 a sailor, with meagre knowledge of music or the the- 
 atrical profession. Besides he had no time away from 
 his ship. Why bother him with a scheme he could 
 not aid? 
 
 As soon as he was gone on his voyage she set about 
 the prosecution of her enterprise. She sought an
 
 TANCREDI. 245 
 
 interview with the maestro who had brought her to 
 America. He was absent on a tour with his opera 
 troupe, but was expected to return to New York at 
 a fixed date. 
 
 This was the first professional disappointment of 
 her life ; the sanguine woman had not counted on 
 impediment or delay. In her professional career she 
 had never known what effort was in securing an 
 engagement ; the proposals had ever come unsolicited, 
 and the trouble had been to get her on the stage. The 
 difficulty now was to get the stage for the willing 
 actress. Besides she had always depended on Tancrcdi 
 to manage her theatrical business, who had always 
 attended to all details without inconvenience or annoy- 
 ance to her. 
 
 She sighed as she felt how lonely and helpless she 
 was. 
 
 Alas, for that sigh, and alas for its cause. Mrs. 
 Browning says : 
 
 **.-. This passionate sigh . . , . 
 May reach and stir the plumes 
 Of God's calm angel standing in the sun." 
 
 But her sigh was not for Tancredi nor his patron- 
 age. But it was a sigh for what she missed through 
 him. It was the sigh of danger. 
 
 Taplan had come again and gone before she heard
 
 246 TANCREDI. 
 
 from the maestro. He made an appointment which 
 she kept. 
 
 ' ' I wish to return to the stage, and came to yon 
 for advice and assistance." 
 
 " Do you forget that you once did me the injustice 
 of disappointing me, to my great loss ? I am not will- 
 ing to repeat that experience." 
 
 " But 1 was ill ; I lost my voice, my health, my 
 beauty. Now they are all restored, and I am ready to 
 make amends to you for the past." 
 
 "It is impossible. Besides the season is too far 
 advanced to organize a new combination. I tell you 
 it is impossible !" 
 
 "You dishearten me. What am I to do? Surely 
 the public will be glad to hear me sing, even in con- 
 certed pieces." 
 
 " The public knows nothing of you. You have no 
 reputation in this country, and you would not draw 
 anything like paying houses. You desire to return to 
 the stage, and on that point you seek my advice?" 
 
 "That is my desire." 
 
 " Well, heed this advice: Don't sell your talents 
 cheaply, and make no effort to build a reputation in 
 concerts. If you had a reputation, you could afford to 
 sing concerted pieces ; but no singer ever made a great 
 reputation except in opera. Prepare yourself for a 
 grand debut, such as was once prepared for you in this
 
 TANCREDI. 247 
 
 city. Ah, Signora, you missed the opportunity of 
 your life when you threw up that engagement. Pre- 
 pare yourself for appearance in grand opera, where, it' 
 you make a hit, it will be a grand success. If you would 
 soar high and I have all confidence in your ability 
 you must take wing from the mountain top, and not 
 from the molehill. Opera is the mountain, concert 
 the molehill." 
 
 "When can I nppear in opera?" 
 " Not before next season." 
 " And will you engage me for next season ?" 
 " That depends. I shall be glad to do so, provided 
 you furnish me with acceptable security for the faith- 
 ful performance of your engagement. 1 cannot afford 
 to make a contract with you on other terms." 
 
 11 But I have no friend in this country who will 
 become my securit}'." 
 
 " Then our interview is at an end. I wish you a 
 good day." 
 
 Kosetta left the presence of the pompous musical 
 autocrat with such a chill at her heart as she never 
 had before. The revulsion against her profession was 
 so strong that she almost hated her art that art 
 which she had always held higher than money, 
 more sacred than barter. She learned that she and 
 her gifts were only valuable to the maestro as the 
 representatives of so much money. She possessed an
 
 248 TANCREDI. 
 
 ocean of melody en resorvoir, ready to be poured out 
 in a deluge of song, but she had no means to regrlate 
 the flow to suit the demands of the market. Her 
 wealth, all told, was a thousand dollars, a few jewels, 
 and an excellent wardrobe, the earnings of three years 
 work on the operatic stage in Europe. 
 
 Who could she get to stand sponsor for her faith- 
 ful performance of the contract ? John Taplan ? He 
 was her only friend, and first in her thoughts. Should 
 she ask him 2 If eo she must reveal her cherished 
 scheme of secrecy, and by that destroy its' romance. 
 Besides, was he rich enough to go on her bond ? She 
 had neglected to ask the amount of bail required. On 
 inquiry she found that it would be twenty thousand 
 dollars. 
 
 The amount appalled her. 
 
 When John came home she learned by indirect 
 inquiries that the brick house and grounds would 
 probably sell for five thousand dollars. 
 
 Her heart beat low at the low figures one-fourth 
 the sum required. John Taplan, as bondsman, was out 
 of the question, and it was therefore unnecessary to 
 tell him of her scheme. Foolish woman ! 
 
 This was in the month of February. What should 
 be her next move 2 
 
 Kosetta had more business pluck in her than she 
 dreamed of.
 
 TAKCREDI. 249 
 
 In her present drifting life, some aim or aspiration 
 was absolutely necessary to prevent her from falling 
 into utter despondency. Action, busy, thrilling, 
 absorbing action, was as indispensable to her tempera- 
 ment as phosphorus to her brain, fibrin to her muscles, 
 or oxygen to her blood. Her passion for the stage 
 was constitutional and irrepressible, and it became an 
 all absorbing necessity, a necessity that would brook 
 no hindrance, or stop at any obstacle. 
 
 She was honest in her desire to return to the stage. 
 
 She was justifiable in having honest desire, woman 
 though she was. 
 
 But she was a woman. 
 
 She had the same right as a man to bo ambitious. 
 But she was a woman. If she were a man would she 
 have fared better ? 
 
 A man, possessing a voice equal in power, compass, 
 sweetness and culture to that of Rosetta Godtirdo 
 would have encountered no difficulty in finding a mar- 
 ket for his rare gifts, and the price commanded by him 
 would rate in accordance with the degree of his merit. 
 
 In the case of a woman it is different. When she 
 applies for a public place her personal charms are con- 
 sidered and included in the estimate placed on her 
 worth ; and her art, whatever that art may be, will 
 bring more or less as her personal attractions are great 
 or small. Art has a commercial as well as a literal 
 11*
 
 250 TANCREDI. 
 
 meaning, and there is male art and female art. Male 
 art has its value based on art alone ; female art has its 
 value based on art and beauty, and like the Circassian 
 maiden, woman's price rises or falls with beauty of 
 person. 
 
 Expose thy youth and thy beauty for sale with thy 
 art, maid of song ; perchance some Turk may bid high 
 for the pair. 
 
 She did not think of this dernier resort then, but 
 the time came, when, despondent with effort and fail- 
 ure, she was driven to surrender the collateral of 
 female art to secure a price for her gifts. 
 
 She asked for and obtained another interview with 
 the operatic manager. He was as exacting as ever. 
 
 " If you furnish me with security for the faithful 
 performance of your engagement, you can come to me 
 and I will hire you. If I find a patron willing to 
 endorse you, I will send for you. In the meantime, 
 it is useless for you to bother me. This is my ultima- 
 tum." 
 
 She went home and formed a resolution. She 
 would appear in public in spite of the repulses of the 
 flint-hearted maestro. She resolved to appear in con- 
 cert in some music hall. She would show the mer- 
 cenary tyrant that she could secure recognition with- 
 out paying tribute to him. 
 
 She rented the hall, had posters put up on walls to
 
 TANCREDI. 251 
 
 be covered by more glaring ones, and had the perform- 
 ance billed. She was compelled to pay for the hall, 
 printing, for everything, in advance. On the opening 
 night about a dozen indifferent-looking people strag- 
 gled in, one at a time, wearing a scared look, as though 
 they had lost their way and had come to the wrong 
 place to find it. There were no " dead heads," but 
 plenty of space for them she had neglected to com- 
 pliment the press. The prospect was so slim that the 
 money was refunded, when the miserable-looking 
 stragglers went elsewhere to find their lost way. 
 
 Rosetta went home and flung herself on the floor, 
 where she cried like a child that does not know why 
 it cries, only that it should cry on general principles, 
 leaving others to find out the exact cause of its dis- 
 tress. 
 
 Berta was the philosopher on the occasion. 
 
 " Don't cry, my poor Rosa ! don't cry ! Why 
 should'st thou cry ? Sure the public lost more than 
 we. See what we have learned ! We have learned 
 that there is art and the art. Thou hast art, the 
 maestro has the art. Separate, they are valueless ; 
 together, tbey are priceless. Without thy art he is 
 nobody, without his art thou art less than nobody." 
 
 " Yes, Berta, about five hundred dollars less than 
 nobody, for that is what the lesson cost us." 
 
 " Fuh J What is five hundred dollars to thee, I
 
 252 TAKCREDI. 
 
 ask ? Why, with the maestro, them shalt make the 
 loss up in -one night ! Despair no more ; I shall speak 
 to the maestro." 
 
 " What, thou ! Thou speak with him ? Foolish 
 Borta, how you talk ! He will not so much as look at 
 thee, much less talk with thee. Besides, what can'st 
 thou offer which I have not already offered ?" 
 
 " Leave Berta alone for that ! I am older than 
 thou." 
 
 It was now late in March, and John Taplan was at 
 home once more. The day on which he landed was 
 wet and dismal. A misty rain fell all day long and 
 lillecl the streets with slush. The buildings looked 
 like glazed prisons. A dense fog hung over the city, 
 and reached out on the bay like a spectre shroud, 
 through which the packet loomed like a phantom-ship 
 bursting from a phantom world. Rosetta was at the 
 pier in a close carriage waiting for her lover, and 
 watching the people disembark. There comes Tap- 
 lan ; but who is it that glides in his wake and crosses 
 over to the baggage-room ? 
 
 " Great God ! It is the traitor !" she gasped, as 
 she crouched among the cushions. 
 
 John sprang inside and held her in his arms, as 
 they were rapidly driven away. 
 
 " Take me away ! Oh, hasten ! Tell the driver to
 
 TANCREDI. 253 
 
 fly !" she cried, clinging to him as if to escape some 
 impending evil. 
 
 " You saw him, Eosa ?" was all he said ; but 
 there was consolation in his strong voice, there was 
 assurance in his encircling arm. 
 
 The historian often, and doubtless the novelist also, 
 lays down the pen in despair when he encounters 
 scenes too beautiful for words, too pathetic for speech. 
 At such times inspiration soars beyond language and 
 beats its wings in impotent desperation. Trooping 
 fancies swarm in the brain, dressed in forms of match- 
 less beauty, but the very grandeur of conception para- 
 lyzes volition, and the pen falls in despair. 
 
 This pen has been idle for days ; it is now taken 
 up to write its own impotence, and to beg of the 
 reader to imagine for himself the beauty, the tender- 
 ness and the sadness which marked the companionship 
 of those two lovers during those four days in March. 
 
 Do you remember the last time you sat with your 
 friend? Neither of you dreamed that the parting was 
 to be final, and yet it was. 
 
 The weather continued stormy and capricious ; it 
 froze and thawed, rained and sleeted, shone and shad- 
 owed, by treacherous turns, compelling those who had 
 homes and loved them, to stay there. 
 
 John Taplan remained in the cottage all day long 
 during his stay on shore. At first, Rosetta was
 
 254 TANCKEDI. 
 
 reserved and pensive, which aroused the anxiety of 
 Taplan, and prompted him to affect a joviality unu- 
 sual with him, in order that he might dispel her sad- 
 ness and bring back her smiles. 
 
 JRosetta appreciated his kind strategy, and shook 
 off the shadows, to his intense gratification. The 
 bitterness of her late fiasco gradually passed from her 
 mind, and hope once again fired her breast with prom- 
 ise. When the hour of parting came not a shadow lay 
 between them. 
 
 O Maiden of Song ! Would thou had'st clung to 
 thy sailor lover, even as the Christian clings to the 
 cross ! 
 
 O sailor on the sea! Better thou had'st gone 
 down with thy gallant bark, than come back to a port 
 of despair.
 
 TANCREDI. 255, 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 " That virgin in CEchalia, yoked to no bridal bed, till then 
 unwedded, and who knew no husband, having taken from her 
 home a wanderer impelled by the oar, her, like some Bachenal 
 of Pluto, with blood, with smoke, and murderous hymenials did 
 Venus give nuptials." EURIPIDES. 
 
 TANCKEDI and wife took up their residence in Phila- 
 delphia, where they settled down to proy domestic 
 life. The shock which Madam Alice suffered from 
 the Paris scandal, was likely to influence her whole 
 future life. She razed the altar, demolished the lamp, 
 and tried to forget that she had been a coquette. She 
 shrank from society, refused to take her familiar 
 place among her friends, and declined all invitations 
 except a few of a very exclusive character. She re- 
 mained at home intensely occupied in learning that 
 noblest of all arts, the art of housekeeping. The grat- 
 ified husband was rejoiced to see his honeymoon risen 
 at last. Madam was certainly greatly altered in de- 
 meanor toward him, while he gave promise of becom- 
 ing an exemplary husband. 
 
 But where the domestic Eden without a trailing 
 serpent winding its slimy folds among the sequestered 
 bowers ?
 
 256 TANCREDI. 
 
 The serpent that crept into the Tancredi bower 
 was in the guise of a letter from Berta to her master. 
 Imitating its primogenitor it appealed to the subtlest 
 vanities of the human heart. 
 
 Here is the abstract poison : 
 
 "You should see our Kosetta! How handsome! 
 More beautiful than ever before. And her singing I 
 You should hear her sing ! It thrills one ! And she 
 has got back all her old ambition for the stage. I 
 knew her love for the sailor would not last; it was not 
 exciting enough, and she turns from him to scenes of 
 her former triumph as naturally as the duck to water. 
 But she has no one to help her." 
 
 Berta here gave a graphic account of Eosetta's 
 struggles and failures to get back into her profession. 
 
 " It is a pity to let her pine away with disappoint- 
 ment, just from the lack of a friend. Why may not 
 my good, kind master, help her as he once helped 
 her?" 
 
 Apparently this letter had feeble effect on Tan- 
 credi. He flung it aside. 
 
 He turned to his own life and felt that it ought 
 to content him. 
 
 But will it as he would, his old life of gay adven- 
 ture involuntarily and persistently thrust itself into
 
 TANCREDI. 257 
 
 his thoughts, and he caught himself revelling in the 
 memories of his old free days their sparkle and 
 pleasant experiences. He reread the letter. 
 
 No, it must not, should not be. He loved his 
 wife, and felt secure of her attachment to him ; what 
 more could be added to his happiness? An indis- 
 cretion might ruin him. If his wife were to discover 
 any attempt at intriguing on his part, especially with 
 the cantatrice, she would make short work of his 
 present domestic tranquility. No ; the Godardo must 
 henceforth be a stranger to him. She had joined her 
 destiny with that of the sailor ; she was welcome, and 
 had his best wishes for a bright career. 
 
 But he beguiled himself into believing that the 
 subject had an aesthetic side which was proper and 
 prudent for him to consider. 
 
 The woman, Rosetta Godardo, was an artist, en- 
 dowed with talents almost if not quite reaching to the 
 height of genius, and her musical culture was of a 
 very high order of merit. If opportunity were 
 afforded her ehe bid fair to rival the most renowned 
 singers that ever thrilled the world. "Was it right, 
 viewed from its artistic side, that she should be kept 
 in obscurity from the beggarly want of a patron ? Was 
 it right to rob the world of her great talents ? 
 
 Yiewing the subject in this light, he saw strong 
 reasons in favor, and none against lending her assist-
 
 258 TANCREDI. 
 
 ance. As a patron of music, and especially operatic 
 music, ho granted that he was particularly fitted to 
 render her aid, and that, too, without the risk of being 
 charged with improper motives. Even if the woman 
 were an entire stranger to him, still he felt that ifc 
 would be right and proper to help her, because help- 
 ing her would be giving legitimate aid to musical 
 culture in America. 
 
 These were reasons of a general character ; but 
 there were special reasons why he, before any one else, 
 should assist her. She had been his protege, encour- 
 aged and assisted by him in studying and adopting that 
 profession for which she was so eminently fitted. He 
 had shared in her triumphs in Europe, and, on his 
 promise of protection, she had come to America to 
 fulfill a flattering engagement as prima donna of an 
 opera company. He acknowledged that he had not 
 kept faith with her, but, on the contrary, had pre- 
 vented her from fulfilling her engagement, and finally 
 had deserted her. She was a penniless orphan, bereft 
 of home, country, profession and honor, all through 
 his bad faith. 
 
 Did he owe her restitution ? 
 
 He persuaded himself that he did. 
 
 He took the letter up and read it the third time. 
 
 He could assist her without resuming his former 
 familiarity with her. He was now married, she would
 
 TANCREDI. 259 
 
 be in May, and temptation and opportunity would be 
 removed. His patronage could be managed so dis- 
 creetly that his wife would not hear of it or be dxs- 
 satisfied if she did. Even Rosetta Godardo need not 
 know who was her benefactor. His patronage could 
 be and would be secret, gesthetic, paternal, Platonic. 
 
 He threw the letter on the fire and its flames 
 wreathed fantastic forms of burning ships. 
 
 Tancredi went to New York. 
 
 He held a conference with his friend, the maestro, 
 which resulted in a message being sent to the cantatrice 
 summoning her to the office of the musical director. 
 She was offered the position as prima donna of an 
 opera troupe which was being organized for the 
 ensuing season. Tancredi kept out of the way. 
 
 The contract stipulated that she was not to marry 
 for one year. She demurred at this provision and got 
 three days to consider. During those three days 
 ambition was ever present, urging its claims, while her 
 lover was absent, and ambition won. She signed the 
 articles of agreement. 
 
 She signed the contract with no wish or intent to 
 wrong John Taplan. It never crossed her mind that 
 he might possibly object, nor had she the slightest 
 wish to cancel her marriage engagement. She only 
 saw in the offer of the maestro the golden opportunity 
 to regain a foothold in her loved profession, an offer
 
 260 TANCREDI. 
 
 coupled, it was true, with a disagreeable proviso, and 
 which she accepted under protest on John's account. 
 She doubted not that her lover would gracefully sub- 
 mit to the years delay, when he came to know the issue 
 at stake. True, she would have preferred to consult 
 with him about the postponement of their marriage ; 
 but that would have spoiled her plans ; besides he was 
 absent. She decided without his advice or consent, 
 feeling confident that all would be well. 
 
 Her gratification at the glorious prospect before 
 her was so absorbing that she had never thought of 
 the possible cause why the manager had so suddenly 
 relented from his former hard terms. She now began 
 to think, and among other things she thought of that. 
 During her late efforts before him he had said that if 
 he found a friend willing to go her bail, he would send 
 for her. He had sent for her, had engaged her, and, 
 inferentially, had found the willing patron. How else 
 account for her engagement on such liberal terms? 
 Her curiosity was aroused to learn more of the inside 
 workings of the office of the musical director. Was 
 it likely that some lover of art, familiar with her gifts 
 and European fame, had volunteered to come forward 
 as her patron ? Some person who acted from genuine 
 regard for opera in America ? If such a person existed, 
 she longed to know him and demonstrate to him her 
 profound gratitude.
 
 TANCREDI. 261 
 
 At her next meeting with the maestro she inquired 
 concerning the cause which led to her good fortune. 
 
 " Because I know that you can sing and act," said 
 the manager, with a laugh. 
 
 " You knew that long ago ; you knew that when 
 you refused to aid rne a few weeks ago. There is 
 another reason ; what is it-?" 
 
 "How will this knowledge benefit you, Signorina? 
 Is it not enough to know of your good fortune, and 
 accept and adorn it without question of how it was 
 obtained ? You have gained what you desired honor- 
 ably ; rest satisfied." 
 
 " But I want to know why you relented from your 
 former hard terms. You say it was obtained for me ; 
 surely one has the right to show gratitude for a favor 
 such as is shown me !" 
 
 "It is right to be grateful, yes; I accept your 
 thanks, if that is what yon wish." 
 
 " It was you, then ; you are my friend and 
 patron ?" 
 
 ." No, Signorina." 
 
 " Then some one else, who ?" 
 
 " The particular person desires to remain unknown. 
 I represent him." 
 
 " Ah, then you did find a patron 2" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " What was his motive ?"
 
 202 TANCREDI. 
 
 " A sense of duty to you." 
 
 <l A sense of duty to me ! Indeed, you make me 
 more solicitous than ever to know who this patron 
 may be. Will you tell me P 
 
 " No ; I cannot. The knowledge can do you no 
 possible good. If I tell, I betray a trust. I will not 
 tell." 
 
 " Allow me to be the judge of whether this knowl- 
 edge will do me good or harm. Some one who acts 
 from a sense of duty to me?" 
 
 "Yes, Signorina." 
 
 " There is but one who could feel or talk that way ; 
 I don't want to believe that it is he." 
 
 " Believe what you please." 
 
 " Sir, it now becomes my duty to demand the name 
 of this person. The affair can go no further until I 
 know." 
 
 "Well, of all the whimsical, vaccilating women I 
 ever knew, you bear the palm !" 
 
 " You refuse to tell me P 
 
 " I have not the authority to tell you." 
 
 " Then our engagement ends here, and I bid you 
 good day !" 
 
 " Stay, Signorina ! You act in bad faith very 
 bad faith, not only toward me, but your patron." 
 
 " I will have no secret patron. You will not tell 
 me?"
 
 TANCREDI. 203 
 
 " Give me a day ; allow me time to consult with 
 tins generous man, that I may tell him how fickle and 
 ungrateful you are. Perhaps he may authorize me to 
 Bpeak his name to you." 
 
 " Very well, I will wait," she replied, and went 
 away. 
 
 After two days she returned. 
 
 " I came for the answer," she said. " Who is this 
 patron ?" 
 
 " Signor Michele Tancredi !" 
 
 " Grando Cielo ! I feared it ! I feared it ! Gra- 
 cious God, why dost thou follow me with the Shadow 
 of Death !" 
 
 She sat quite still, with her great black eyes staring 
 into vacancy, while the maestro was gesticulating, and 
 explaining the situation apologizing, flattering 
 praising Tancredi his delicacy, his generosity, his 
 great honor, his sense of obligation to her. Without 
 so much as looking at him, she abruptly arose and 
 departed like a person in a trance. 
 
 When Taplan returned, Rosetta was confined to 
 her room with a headache. At first she refused to see 
 him, but he persisted so earnestly in his entreaty that 
 she reluctantly relented, and allowed him to visit her. 
 When he entered the room she was crouched on the 
 hearth rug shivering with a chill. 
 
 He was frightened at her haggard appearance.
 
 264 TANCRED1. 
 
 Her symptoms indicated a return of her peculiar 
 attacks of nervous fever, called by her, " crazy spells," 
 and not ill-named. The bare mention of Tancredi's 
 name was sufficient to arouse her rage, but never had 
 she felt toward him the same loathing and malignancy 
 as when she learned of his attempt to resume his office 
 of patron and friend. 
 
 When she reached home, she locked herself in her 
 room, refused to see any one, and quarreled with 
 Berta, although the bolted door was between them. 
 She charged the maid with duplicity and treachery. 
 Of course she was in the humor to resent even the 
 friendly intrusion of Taplan. She thought that he, at 
 least, might have allowed her the seclusion she craved. 
 She took no pains to conceal her displeasure at his 
 presence. 
 
 " You have no kind word for me, Rosa !" he ven- 
 tured to say, after he had stood sometime without any 
 kind of recognition. 
 
 " Why did you come ?" she said, petulantly. 
 
 "Why did I come? Because because why, 
 Rosa, what a question for you to ask me ! I came 
 here because I have no other place to go no other 
 place I want to go." 
 
 " But, you know I wish to be alone." 
 
 "Rosa, what is the matter ? Why do you treat me 
 so ? Are you ill ? What have I done ? God knows,
 
 TANCREDI. 205 
 
 my little darling, that I never had it in my heart to 
 give you a moment's pain." 
 
 "OJi, don't ask me so many questions! I don't 
 want to be bothered ! I want to be let alone ! Go 
 away, do !" 
 
 The amazed sailor stood for a moment looking 
 pleadingly at her, when, without a word, but with a 
 deep sigh, he left the room, looking like a man that 
 had jnst come from an interview with death. 
 
 Berta intercepted him and told him of Rosetta's 
 determination to go on the stage. 
 
 "But, she must not," he earnestly exclaimed. 
 "Tell her I forbid it." 
 
 " Me tell her ! I would as soon face a hungry tiger 
 as tell her that ! No, no, John Taplau ; tell her your- 
 self." 
 
 John did not tell her then, but on the following 
 evening, which was the evening before he was to sail, 
 he obtained another interview with Rosetta, when he 
 found her less irritable than on the day previous. 
 
 " Is it true, Kosa, that you think of going on the 
 stage ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Then, I forbid it." 
 
 " Is it you who gives me this order ?" 
 
 " Yes, Kosa ; I don't want my wife to be an 
 actress." 
 
 12
 
 2C6 TANCREDI. 
 
 " But I am not your wife and I am an actress. I 
 was wedded to my profession before I promised' to wed 
 you." 
 
 " But you must give it up for me." 
 
 " Must you give up your ship for me ?" 
 
 " Yes, if necessary ; but that is different; I am to 
 make our living by my work." 
 
 " I can make more money on the stage in one night 
 than you can in five months." 
 
 " For all that you must give it up for me." 
 
 " What if I will not." 
 
 " I hope you will, since I wish it." 
 
 " But your wish is unreasonable. Besides you have 
 no right or authority to dictate to me in anything, and 
 I will not obey you in this." 
 
 "Does that mean that our engagement is can- 
 celed?" 
 
 "As you choose, Sir." 
 
 " Ah, Kosa, you can't mean that !" 
 
 " I mean that I will go on the stage if I choose ; if 
 you think that sufficient provocation to break off our 
 engagement, you are welcome." 
 
 " But I claim the right to say what your life shall 
 be as my future wife." 
 
 " Since you are so domineering over what you call 
 your future wife, know then that I will return to the
 
 TANCREDI. 207 
 
 stage, and you and all the fiends shall not prevent 
 me." 
 
 As she spoke she stood up before him defiant, 
 and looking not unlike a fury called up by her invoca- 
 tion. 
 
 A glow of pain, or anger, or both, instantly 
 mounted to Taplan's face, and as suddenly faded, leav- 
 ing his cheeks as blanched as a corpse. 
 
 He reached out his hands to her, but she affected 
 not to see them. 
 
 "You will think better when I am gone. 
 Good-by, my darling, good-by ! and may Heaven keep 
 you from harm !" 
 
 He was gone. 
 
 A great, stifling, despairing cry arose in the woman's 
 throat when she saw her wounded lover vanish 
 through the door, which he so gently closed after him. 
 It was a cry for mercy, a cry for pardon, for his love, 
 for his return. She fell on the floor, where she lay 
 unconscious. 
 
 Eeturning consciousness brought with it not 
 remorse, but anger ; anger at her lover for his heartless 
 desertion. She meant for him to stay ; she had meant 
 to oppose him that her yielding might please him all 
 the more, for all along it was her intention to tease 
 and yield at last. She had meant to call him back, 
 and tell him how repentant she was; and, in her
 
 268 TANCREDI. 
 
 frenzy, she would have sworn that she did call him 
 back, but that, instead of heeding her cry, he had pur- 
 posely and basely deserted her. She began to believe 
 that he intentionally sought a pretext to quarrel in 
 order to get rid of her. She began to despise him for 
 what she believed to be his baseness. Where, then, 
 would she find a friend in all the cruel world, now that 
 John Taplan had deserted her ? 
 
 There was one who remained faithful through all. 
 
 Michcle Tancredi ! 
 
 Proclaim it aloud, ye brazen fiends of evil ! 
 Speak it with such clamor that the gentler voice of the 
 guardian angel will not be heard ! Sieze the trumpet 
 and drown the humble name of Taplan with the cry 
 of Tancredi. 
 
 The circumambient contra spirits re-exchanged 
 places about the presence of Rosetta Godardo. The 
 shadow of evil fell like a pall over the form of the 
 doomed woman ; while the bright angel fled sorrowing 
 away, to return, alas, nevermore. 
 
 On the following day she went to the maestro and 
 sealed her fate. 
 
 On the next, Tancredi began a series of artistic, 
 paternal, and Platonic visits to the Yellow Cottage. 
 
 The longest, or what to John Taplan seemed the 
 longest voyage of his life, came to an end at last, when 
 he once again landed in New York, and for the second
 
 TANCREDI. 2G9 
 
 time missed Rosetta's welcome at the pier. Tin's 
 betokened evil ; bat he sought her at the cottage where 
 he was met b} 7 Berta and informed that the Godardo 
 was absent, and would be absent for a long time, per- 
 haps had gone away for good. The maid handed him 
 a letter which he carried home, and read what fol- 
 lows : 
 
 JOHN TAPLAN. 
 
 Respected Sir : Since yon have stated so plainly 
 and decidedly what are your wishes regarding the con- 
 duct- of the wife of your choice, and since, after delib- 
 eration, I find it impossible to accept the terms you 
 demand, I therefore and hereby terminate our engage- 
 ment. All intercourse between you and me must 
 cease at once and forever. Spare yourself any attempt 
 to write or visit me, for I positively shall refuse to 
 notice you in any way whatever. I hope you will be 
 happy, and forget, ROSETTA GODARDO. 
 
 " She didn't write it ! She couldn't write such a 
 letter as that !" exclaimed John, pressing his great 
 palms to his throbbing temples. 
 
 Taplan was not endowed with a demonstrative dis- 
 position. He showed outwardly little of what was 
 going on within. He was abundantly supplied with 
 that class of nerves called afferent, or carry ing- in 
 nerves, which reach out and gather in external impres-
 
 270 TANCREDI. 
 
 sions, but he was poorly supplied with efferent nerves 
 the reflex system, by which internal impressions are 
 outwardly manifested. His tentative perceptions were 
 all for himself, as was his digestion. The impressions 
 he received, good and bad, were digested and assimil- 
 ated within, while very little bubbled over in smiles 
 and tears. No one ever saw him weep ; no one ever 
 heard him laugh. Such men bear adversity badly, 
 probably because their pent up anguish expends its 
 frenzy within, instead of escaping in outward tumult. 
 
 To watch the great, silent anguish of the strong 
 man, you would wish to see the safety valves opened, 
 that the overcharged feelings might be lighted by a 
 gush of tears. He did not weep, but sat with a far- 
 away look in his lustreless eyes. 
 
 Within three days he visited the cottage many 
 times, only to hear the phrase, " Not at home." 
 
 He read and reread the cruel letter many times 
 every day, but he could not believe but what the letter 
 was a forgery. 
 
 " She can't write English, and she wouldn't write 
 such English if she could," he kept saying to himself. 
 
 He believed that if he could only see her alone, 
 just for a minute, he could explain away every obstacle 
 in the way of reconciliation. He had heard that all 
 lovers quarrel once, at least, and happily make up 
 again ; this, he thought, was a lover's quarrel, and
 
 TANCREDI. 271 
 
 would have the usual happy termination. If he could 
 only see her! 
 
 He wrote her note after note, hoping in that way 
 to attract her attention and arouse her interest. Occa- 
 sionally, during their happy days, he had composed 
 fugitive verses, which she had set to music and sung to 
 him. He did not pretend to write poetry, only 
 " verses to his mistress' eyebrows," an industry 
 common enough with lovers at an early stage of the 
 fever. He now composed and sent to her the follow- 
 ing lines : 
 
 ' O can you forget ! 
 
 Or do you regret 
 How fondly we loved in the past ? 
 
 On that sweet autumn day, 
 
 How the hours flew away I 
 Too bright and beautiful to last ! 
 
 Though fortune ill-starred 
 
 Our voyage has marred, 
 And storms drive us wider apart ; 
 
 From the hurricane's track 
 
 Our love will turn back, 
 And hope cast anchor in the heart. 
 
 There's a haven of Rest 
 'Mong the isles of the blest ; 
 My darling, we'll make that our goal, 
 And in patience await 
 At the crystal barred gate 
 That swings for th' pilgrim's weary soul."
 
 273 TANCREDI. 
 
 His letter and his verses were returned with the 
 verbal reply that the separation was final was forever. 
 
 John Taplan's ship went to sea without him. 
 
 What cared he for his ship now, since the bonniest 
 bark that ever sailed had gone down with all on board? 
 How could he ever again guide a ship through the 
 waves, now that he himself was storm driven, without 
 helm or compass, scudding over an unknown sea where 
 the only lights were pirate signals portending danger 
 and disaster ? 
 
 Let the winds howl ! Let the ships sail out on the 
 boiling sea ! A ship had sailed away from port that 
 would never be signalled again. Let Neptune shake 
 the ocean with his wrath, that other men might wail 
 with him for lost ships ! Let Erebus ope its sulphur- 
 ous caverns and vomit a deluge of fiends to overrun 
 the earth with crime and hate and havoc ! There was 
 no more right, or justice, or love, or heaven, but a 
 world turned into a reeking lazar-honee, teeming with 
 demons damned. 
 
 John Taplan closed his heart against his fellow- 
 sufferer, man ; he shut his soul against hope. 
 
 The cup of Punic Faith was filled to overflowing ; 
 who shall drink the envenomed contents down to the 
 last bitter dregs ?
 
 PAET TPIIRD. 
 DIES IRAK 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 " Let us rise up and part ; she will not know ; 
 
 Let us go seaward as the great winds go 
 Full of blown sand and foam ; what help is here ? 
 
 There is no help, for all these things are so, 
 And all the world's as bitter as a tear. 
 And how these things are ye strove to show, 
 She would not know." 
 
 THE occupants of the cottage saw that John Tap- 
 Ian meant mischief, and they kept Rosetta Godardo 
 out of the way, trusting that he would become recon- 
 ciled with his fate, or go away to sea. 
 
 But his vigilance abated not, neither did he go to 
 sea. He haunted the cottage for weeks, and often in 
 the night did Berta peep out at a haggard figure 
 standing sentinel, like a wan ghost before some ancient 
 castle stained with blood-marks of a long-forgotten 
 crime. 
 
 12* [2731
 
 274 TANCKEDI 
 
 Suddenly and unaccountably he quit his post, 
 much to the relief of the inmates of the cottage, who 
 felt anything but easy at the menacing proximity of 
 the huge man with the bloodshot eyes. 
 
 He knocked at the door of a tavern near by, where 
 he was hospitably admitted. He took to the flowing 
 bowl and drowned his sorrow in rum. He would sit 
 quietly for hours in the chimney-corner of the rum- 
 shop, swallowing great draughts of grog and nodding 
 by turns, when he would abruptly stagger to his feet, 
 as if impelled by the recollection of some urgent duty 
 which could no longer be delayed, and go reeling 
 homeward, muttering to himself in an earnest, inco- 
 herent manner. When he reached the point in the 
 road, opposite the cottage gate, he would halt and 
 face the entrance, as though on the move to enter. 
 Changing his mind, he would slowly turn with bowed 
 head and enter his own house, where he would sleep 
 off the potations of the day. 
 
 One evening as he went staggering along the road 
 on his way home, a carriage passed him, and drew up 
 at the cottage gate. Tancrecli alighted and entered 
 the dwelling. The drunken man came reeling along 
 with head sunk on breast arid hat slouched over . his 
 half closed eyes, apparently oblivious to all about him. 
 He also entered that gate, shambled up to the door, 
 which he opened, and strode past Berta into the hall,
 
 TANCREDI. 275 
 
 a:id onward to the familiar sitting-room. A moment 
 later, a crash was heard, and Tancredi was seen flying 
 through the front window, carrying sash and havoc 
 with him. Before another minute, John was floun- 
 dering down the path on his way home as stupidly 
 unconcerned as if he had done nothing but drink and 
 doze for a week. 
 
 The next day the domestic, who did little else 
 than extricate Taplan from his drunken boots, was 
 instructed to advertise the brick house for sale. 
 
 " I shall go to pieces in this calm," he said. " I 
 must weigh anchor and steer for another port." 
 
 As a compliment to his metaphors the servant 
 painted on a board, in picturesque letters, " For Sail," 
 ?.n<l hung it on the house front. The result was a sale 
 within a week. 
 
 When his household was broken he drifted into 
 the city and established himself among the sailors in 
 the neighborhood of the Five Points, where he con- 
 tinued to keep himself saturated with rum, and where 
 he shared his store with his impecunious comrades as 
 long as his money lasted. At length mania potu gave 
 notice that his health was bankrupt, and the bank gave 
 notice that his credit was in like insolvent condition. 
 In two years time John Taplan was become one of the 
 most abject of the vagrant brood that infested that 
 squalid locality.
 
 276 TANCREDI. 
 
 There were two friends, and only two, who clung 
 to him through his degradation ; one was an old ship- 
 mate, named Haley, and the other was Mr. Wallace, 
 an officer connected with the western terminus of the 
 packet company. These two friends remonstrated 
 with the besotted wretch, who, with all his abasement, 
 still maintained his character as a harmless and peace- 
 able fellow. He wronged himself, and that was the 
 sum total of his offense. They offered to intercede 
 for him and get him restored to his old berth on the 
 packet, if he would reform ; and he was always ready 
 to promise. But, alas ! what is the promise of 
 an unfortunate being brutalized by chronic alco- 
 holism ? 
 
 John would promise anything they asked, and, on 
 the strength of his vows, would borrow a dollar " to 
 make it more bindin'," as he expressed it. With the 
 money thus obtained he would lay in a supply of 
 cheap rum to brace his nerves up to the work of 
 reformation. 
 
 But the good work soon languished, and presently 
 subsided altogether the rum did not hold out long 
 enough to thoroughly establish reform. His nerves 
 gave out with the rum, and he fell back into his old 
 habits and the customary jobs by which he gained a 
 precarious livelihood. Thus did he become fixed in 
 the ways of a vagrant, lost to all sense of shame, reck-
 
 TANCREDI. 277 
 
 less of the present, indifferent of the future. And 
 thus the disgraceful years rolled round with him. 
 
 When it became known, that Taplan had left 
 Yorkville, Tlosetta Godardo returned to the cottage, 
 where her restored paramour, Tancredi, passed much 
 of his time. 
 
 It seems like paying tribute to immorality to say 
 that she was happy ; and yet it is true, she was 
 intensely, acutely happy. Of course, it was not that 
 calm, equable and secure content which she experi- 
 enced while betrothed to the sailor, but rather the 
 happiness of moral intoxication. She was peculiarly 
 adapted to lead a vicious life, provided the vice and 
 the life lead were of her own choosing. Her attach- 
 ment to Tancredi was so all absorbing, and her moral 
 sense so abnormally dulled by his contact, that all 
 other impressions were swept away or disregarded. 
 Her passion for him returned with all its former aban- 
 don and intensity, and she had no place or time for 
 shame, anxiety or remorse. 
 
 Fate, however, was against her appearing in opera 
 in America. The wages of sin was the salary she 
 drew, and which cancelled the engagement with the 
 manager. A male heir was born to the house of Tan- 
 credi in Philadelphia in January, and in the following 
 March a male child was born in the Yellow Cottage in 
 Yorkville.
 
 W8 TANC11EOI. 
 
 The Yorkville child was called Carlo Godardo. 
 TJie Philadelphia boy was christened Charles Tancredi. 
 Both children grew in strength and loveliness, and the 
 father, Michele Tancredi, should have been proud of 
 them both. He discreetly suppressed that half of the 
 joy he felt for the child at the Yellow Cottage. He 
 succeeded in concealing from his wife all knowledge 
 of his pseudo family ; more than a score of years passed 
 before Madam Tancredi knew of such a being as Carlo 
 Godardo. 
 
 It would be tedious, unprofitable and falsely deli- 
 cate to moralize on the evil lives led by Tancredi and 
 the Godardo. It would be still worse to apologize for 
 the narration of the story of their shame. Besides, 
 there should be no attempted vindication of the cohe- 
 rence, the candor, and the fidelity of history. History 
 must vindicate itself, must evolve and determine its 
 own moralization. This history deals with the con- 
 crete, not the abstract ; with flesh and blood, not with 
 dry bones. This story follows individuals, not ethical 
 theories. It narrates the actions of persons, what they 
 actually did, not what they should have done ; it fol- 
 lows them into vice and crime, as well as into virtuous 
 ways, to find who rises or falls on the seething tide of 
 passion. This is its aim ; let it not be loaded down 
 with the dead weight of prudery. 
 
 Evil, however cunning and secret, has a myriad
 
 TANCREDI. 279 
 
 spies and as many betrayers. The husband of the 
 Tancred i stripe must learn to assume the stupidity of 
 the opium eater, and wear a mask as cold as the 
 Sphynx. To hoodwink an observant wife, especially 
 a loving wife, the more need of an impenetrable mask. 
 
 Since Madam Tancredi had given up fashionable 
 dissipation she had turned her whole attention to her 
 husband and her household. But, strange to tell, her 
 praiseworthy deportment, instead of establishing cor- 
 respondingly commendable habits in her husband, 
 only tended to encourage his vanity, and drive him 
 back into his old roving adventures. So long as he 
 was uncertain of his wife's affection so long was he 
 circumspect in his behavior, and so long did he dance 
 attendance on her whims and wishes ; but now, when 
 lie felt secure of her devotion, and especially since she 
 had become a mother, his loyalty began to wane and 
 he gradually drifted back into his old Bohemian life, 
 and bestowed his gallantries away from home. 
 
 Wives are much, very much, to blame for such 
 husbands as was Tancredi, and most to blame for their 
 maudlin idolatry. 
 
 You have in your mind's eye a certain gentleman 
 of your acquaintance who is possessed of an angel 
 wife, whose only fault is her too slavish and zealous 
 love for her husband. She guards his buttons and 
 small clothes, stands sentry over his slippers and coffee.
 
 230 TANCREDI. 
 
 and lines bis home life with velvet in brief, idolizes 
 him ; and yet well, you know his reputation. 
 
 How would you manage him if you were bis wife? 
 for you could manage him, you know you could. 
 How often your fingers ache just to put him through 
 his paces once. It is evident that his wife cannot 
 manage him ; she is so slavishly devoted to him, is so 
 jealous, so persistently hanging around him, and so 
 easily cajoled by him, that she could not carry ont a 
 rational plan of management to save her. 
 
 Poor woman ! she is in love with him, while you 
 are not. 
 
 And that is the advantage you would have over 
 her, and over him, if you were to try your hand at 
 breaking him in. 
 
 The philosophy belonging to this subject must be 
 supplied or not by the reader. But after all, it is as it 
 is, loving, doting, self-sacrificing wives, will go on 
 spoiling otherwise good husbands. 
 
 There is nothing will drive men of the Tancredi 
 pattern (there are such husbands) away from home 
 and duty so effectually as that obtrusive and over zeal- 
 ous adoration practiced by some wives; nothing will 
 keep them steady in the line of duty so effectually as 
 a little indifference, or even neglect. A little streak 
 of green jealousy is a healthy shade in the domestic 
 rainbow in such cases.
 
 TANCREDI. 281 
 
 Madam Tancredi marked her husband's wavering 
 devotion with painful solicitude. He was much from 
 home, and the excuses he gave for his absence were 
 often contradictory and always unsatisfactory. Her 
 hope that the child would attract him to his family 
 turned out to be a bitter disappointment. 
 
 She redoubled her efforts to make home attractive, 
 and tried a hundred arts to lure him back to duty, but 
 in vain ; the pampered man grew more and more 
 negligent of his marital obligations. He would remain 
 away for days, where, she knew not ; and when he 
 did pnss an hour at home he was uneasy, and mani- 
 fested but little affection for wife or child. 
 
 More than two years had passed in sorrow away, 
 and Madam Alice despaired of ever being a happy 
 wife again. She began to seek consolation and recrea- 
 tion outside the pale of her husband's society. Her 
 health was broken, and she was ordered by her physi- 
 cian to the seashore, where she spent the summer with 
 her cousin, Mrs. Wallace, of New York. About the 
 first of September she went home with her relative, 
 intending to remain for a two weeks visit, before re- 
 turning to Philadelphia. 
 
 This cousin was the wife of Mr. Wallace, already 
 introduced as one of the friends of John Taplan. The 
 latter was often employed by Mr. Wallace to go on 
 errands, or perform odd jobs about the packet's
 
 282 TANCREDI. 
 
 V 
 
 office. Thus it happened that John Taplan was the 
 very man hired to assist in delivering the luggage of 
 the two ladies from the steamboat to the Wallace 
 residence. Madam Tancredi made some remarks 
 about his haggard appearance. 
 
 "There is quite a romance connected with the 
 poor man, as I have often heard my husband tell," 
 said Mrs. Wallace. " When he comes home this even- 
 ing he shall relate it to you." 
 
 That evening Mr. Wallace told Madam Tancredi 
 the story of John Taplan, the sea pilot, a story with 
 which he was tolerably familiar. 
 
 He told her of Taplan's vocation, his worthiness, 
 his promise of a good life, how he had fallen in love 
 with an opera singer who proved false after promising 
 to marry him ; that an Italian nobleman, who had 
 brought the singing woman to this country, and who 
 had married an American lady, had cut Taplan out, 
 and that the latter, broken by their treachery, had 
 taken to drink and become the miserable sot she had 
 seen. 
 
 " What is the matter, my dear Alice?" exclaimed 
 Mrs. Wallace, in alarm. " You are as pale as a 
 ghost!" 
 
 "It is the story! My nerves are not much 
 improved, I find. Don't you see I am still very 
 nervous ? But the story your story ; it affects me
 
 TANCREDI. 283 
 
 greatl}'. Don't be distressed ; I shall be better soon. 
 There, now ; I'm over it, already, see ! Do you know 
 the name of the singing woman?" 
 
 " I do not. I know nothing more than I have 
 told yon ; but Taplan knows, and I'll ask him to tell 
 me the name." 
 
 "No, I beg of you not; please do not ask him 
 do not speak of the matter to him ; I ask this as a 
 personal favor. Pardon me for not stating my reason 
 at present for this urgent request. Let me ask him, 
 for I am interested in the story of his life, and may 
 be of use to him. Will you kindly send him to me, 
 to-morrow ?" 
 
 On the following day she had a long interview 
 with John Taplan, who gave her names, dates and 
 facts readily enough. She made it worth his while to 
 maintain a strict secrecy, a not difficult task, for to 
 his naturally reticent disposition, was added the 
 stupefaction induced by long continued dram drinking. 
 He agreed to discover whether or not the woman, 
 Godardo, still occupied the Yellow Cottage, and if 
 Tancredi still visited her. 
 
 Taplan's greatly altered appearance served as a 
 complete disguise while scouting about his former 
 haunts in Yorkville. He hung around the place for 
 two days before he was rewarded with a discovery. 
 He then saw Tancredi, in company with the Godardo,
 
 284 TANCREDI. 
 
 drive from the cottage in a carriage, and he saw them 
 return. He learned from the inmates of the tavern 
 that the gentleman regularly visited the cottage every 
 Tuesday and Friday. The visit he witnessed was on 
 Friday. He reported to Madam. 
 
 On the following Tuesday, piloted by Taplan, 
 Madam Tancredi drove out the road to Yorkville, 
 where she met and passed Michele Tancredi and 
 Rosetta Godardo taking a drive in an open carriage. 
 On her return she saw the pair enter the cottage. 
 
 Madam Tancredi drove back to the city and dis- 
 missed John Taplan, leaving a liberal reward on 
 deposit with Mr. Wallace. 
 
 On the following day, leaving her son with Mrs. 
 "Wallace, she returned to Philadelphia, where she met 
 her husband. 
 
 Her interview with him on that occasion was the 
 most serious and painful transaction of her life. All 
 respect, all love, all regard for the man she had vowed 
 to honor and obey, was gone, while pride and anger 
 took their place and sustained her through the reckon- 
 ing with her betrayer. 
 
 " ( I wish to speak to you on a very serious matter," 
 she quietly said, as soon as they were alone. 
 
 The Signor came and stood beside her, ready to 
 hear what she might say. 
 
 " For a long time you have regularly made visits
 
 TANCREDI 285 
 
 to New York. Yon go there on Tuesdays and Fri- 
 days ; may I ask what business calls you there so fre- 
 quently and so regularly ?" 
 
 " You may, certainly, my dear wife ; I have many 
 times told you, as I do now, that I go there on business 
 connected with my Italian estates." 
 
 " Nothing else ?" 
 
 " No ; why do you ask ?" 
 
 " To satisfy myself of your utter disregard for 
 truth and honor !" 
 
 " Your speech is unintelligible to me." 
 
 " Listen, while I make it plain to you. I was in 
 New York on last Friday." 
 
 " I believe you were, since you say so." 
 
 " I was also there on yesterday, Tuesday." 
 
 "I admit you were; and I also was there yester- 
 day." 
 
 " What part of the city did you visit ?" 
 
 " I don't remember all the places I did visit. I 
 was at my agents on Beekman Street, at my bankers 
 on Wall Street, at my hotel on Broadway." 
 
 " You visited one other place which you neglect to 
 mention." 
 
 The husband was silent. He sat down. 
 
 The wife resumed : 
 
 " I was driven out the Harlem road on yesterday. 
 I was in the neighborhood of a yellow cottage in
 
 286 TANCREDI. 
 
 Yorkville. I was guided to that spot by a sailor 
 called John Taplan, the discarded lover of Rosctta 
 Godardo, who now occupies that cottage. I passed 
 you as you rode out with her ; on your return, I saw 
 you enter her dwelling in her company. You drove 
 out with her on last Friday. You visit her every 
 Tuesday and Friday, and have done so for the last 
 three years. You prevented her from marrying an 
 honest man to whom she was engaged, this John Tap- 
 lan, who would have given her a home and an honest 
 name but for your perfidy, and who, because of your 
 infamy and her treachery, has become a drunken vaga- 
 bond !" 
 
 She paused, and for a solemn minute nought was 
 heard but her husband's rapid breathing. 
 
 " The blood of the sailor and the singing woman 
 be on your head !" 
 
 While the injured wife went on with her terrible 
 reckoning, the husband bent like a trembling reed 
 before the storm, and when she concluded with her 
 awful imprecation, he buried his face in his hands and 
 sobbed like a frightened child. 
 
 " Listen to me 1" continued Madam Tancredi, ris- 
 ing and standing over the culprit. " I wish to avoid 
 scandal. I wish to shield my family from the dis- 
 grace of a public exposure of your deeds. I want to
 
 TANCREDI. 237 
 
 guard my son from his father's shame. He must 
 remember you as one dead. 
 
 " By the laws of this land you are a criminal, and 
 the prison your place. There is but one way by 
 which you may escape the penalty of your crime, and 
 that is flight. This one chance of escape I grant you. 
 You must leave this roof, leave me within this hour, 
 and you must quit this country at once and forever. 
 Go! There is nothing more to be said. Go !" 
 
 " Let me first embrace my child." 
 
 " You shall never again behold his face. I have 
 taken the precaution to place him safe beyond your 
 reach. You shall never, never embrace my child, 
 never !" 
 
 " Surely you cannot, will not, refuse me this one 
 last poor request ?" 
 
 "I refuse you everything but the freedom to fly 
 from me and mine forever. I renounce you as a 
 traitor and a felon, unfit to live, and unworthy the 
 favor of a dog ! Begone !" 
 
 The crushed man went staggering from her pres- 
 ence and the house.
 
 TANCREDI. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 " Oh offspring of the earth, whom Mars once sowed, having 
 denuded of its teeth the savage jaw of the dragon, will yc not 
 uplift your staffs, the support of your right hands, and make 
 hloody the impious head of this man, who, not being a Cadman, 
 rules over these youths the basest of Aliens ?" EURIPIDES. 
 
 ROSETTA GODAKDO loved her child, madly and 
 tuinultuously, as was characteristic of all she felt or 
 did. 
 
 She had no emotion which did not run over into 
 passion, and no passion which was not akin to madness. 
 "With her it was never simple like or dislike, it was 
 adoration or malignant hate. Her nervous system was 
 ever attuned to the very highest pitch of the living 
 sentient diapason. 
 
 She was jealous even of the caresses Berta bestowed 
 on little Carl, and furious if he manifested preference 
 for his nurse. She mapped out his future career, 
 which was to be great and glorious, and gave Tancredi 
 no peace until he pledged to do for her boy what he 
 would do for his own lawful child. The father was 
 really fond of his son, Carl Godardo. 
 
 Tancredi, justly, was more worthy than his deeds,
 
 TANCREDI. 289 
 
 and deserved better than his fate. It is not meant 
 that his wrong-doings were excusable, or that he was 
 in the smallest degree irresponsible, it is not even 
 meant that his punishment was too severe ; but it is 
 meant that he did not fully appreciate the heinousness 
 of his acts, or rather that his motives were less wicked 
 than his acts, and that he did not know he was so bad 
 until he came to view himself and his past from the 
 standpoint of an exiled husband and father. He was 
 naturally endowed with a keen sense of honor, and 
 was brave and generous to a fault ; but he was also 
 vain and sensual, the outgrowths of wealth, indolence 
 and flattery. He had been so long accustomed to a 
 luxurious and voluptuous life, that marriage to him was 
 a mere conventional canon, to be strictly enforced as to 
 the wife, but loosely applied as to the husband. So 
 long as he was discreet and did not shock public 
 decency, and so long as he kept his intrigues from his 
 wife's knowledge, he felt no npbraidings of conscience. 
 Ignorance in the wife was his key of safety and his 
 maxim of wedded bliss. 
 
 But his wife's detection of his secret amour, 
 followed by her tierce denunciation, aroused his moral 
 supineness, and brought him to contemplate the sub- 
 ject of marital obligation as he never had viewed it 
 before. He went from her presence guilt-stricken and 
 overwhelmed with remorse. Before he left the city 
 13
 
 290 TANCREDI. 
 
 he made one more urgent appeal for clemency. Find* 
 ing her inexorable he sullenly submitted to the inevit- 
 able and went to New York. 
 
 He now turned his attention to his quasi family in 
 Yorkville. 
 
 The humiliating blow fell so suddenly and crush- 
 ingly that he thought of little else than his shame and 
 the means of escaping from it. He was anxious to 
 depart at once from a country in which he had suffered 
 so much misfortune. 
 
 Bitter as were his thoughts, and vengeful as were 
 his feelings against the whole world, there was still 
 one left, he fondly believed, who would give him 
 shelter and welcome the Godardo. She would love 
 him the more, now that others spurned him. He 
 would go to her. 
 
 The Godardo ! Was she not the silver-tongued 
 siren who seduced him from home, country, and honor ? 
 "Was not his whole trouble before and since marriage 
 caused by her ? Why should he go to her ? 
 
 The poinum Adamii stuck in his throat ; it choked 
 him ; it would not go down, it would not come up. 
 It was the woman who tempted him ; it was she who 
 lured him to his ruin ; on her he turned all his wrath. 
 
 Lived there ever a fallen man, who, in the hour of 
 his humiliation, did not screen himself behind " The 
 woman thou gav'st me ?"
 
 TANCREDI. 291 
 
 Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa, is nowhere found 
 in the liturgy of heroes. A man may be proud, and 
 strong, and brave, and great, on the field or in the 
 forum, but when he falls in the snare of his own mak- 
 ing he is weak, and cowardly and small. 
 
 Let some ambitious romancer, by way of change 
 and a challenge to credulity, picture a godlike hero, 
 sunken in crime and shaken by remorse, and let this 
 unnatural author put words in that culprit's mouth 
 words never spoken before the sublime words of 
 self accusation : " 1 am what I am because I am, and 
 not because of a woman !" When such a hero is 
 found the gods will make room in the heavens for one 
 more constellation to be filled by him. 
 
 Tancredi attributed all his misfortune to Rosetta 
 Godardo, and, while he stood self-confessed with hav- 
 ing played the fool, he determined that she should 
 bear with him one half the punishment. She had 
 wrecked his life, and her life must also be wrecked. 
 He determined to avoid her forever. 
 
 He set about at once winding up his affairs in 
 America, preparatory to secretly leaving for Italy. He 
 sent a trusty messenger to summon Berta to his hotel, 
 and to come unobserved. 
 
 The dutiful maid, ignorant of her master's disaster, 
 escaped, ostensibly for a walk with Carl, and reported 
 herself to Tancredi. The poor child, unconscious of
 
 292 TANCREDI. 
 
 its father's feelings, ran forward, as was its wont, with 
 a cry of joy and attempted to climb on its father's 
 kr.ee. He shook it off with a frown and a curse 
 spurned it as he would a reptile, when the amazed 
 little fellow, with bewildered step.-, slunk back to 
 Berta, who gathered him in her arms. 
 
 " Why, Master ! what ails thee, that thou should'st 
 spurn from thee thy Carl ?" 
 
 " I am ruined, and the boy's mother is the cause. 
 I wish the devil had them both ! Why did you bring 
 him here ? I meant you should come alone. I don't 
 want either of them to come near me." 
 
 " Grando Cielo ! What has happened thee, my 
 good Master, that thou should'st talk of ruin ?" 
 
 u My wife has discovered my visits to the cottage. 
 She followed me there under the guidance of that 
 cursed sailor, John Taplan. She gave me the choice 
 between prison and exile. I chose the latter." 
 
 " And thou go'st to Italy ?" 
 
 " Immediately. I sent for you to accompany me 
 thither." 
 
 " And Rosetta ?" 
 
 " Her ? I care not what becomes of her, so that 
 I never see her or hear of her again. I am quit of 
 her forever !" 
 
 " Alas, poor woman ! And Carl, what is to become 
 of him?"
 
 TANCREDI. 293 
 
 " His mother's fate !" 
 
 " Dio Mio ! Not that, good Master, oh say not 
 that ! Speak not so cruelly of thy own flesh and 
 blood. See us on our knees at thy feet ! For the 
 holy Madonna's sake, drire him not away from thee ! 
 He is thy image, my own darling boy thy boy, and, 
 whatever his mother, he is innocent. Oh, how can 
 yon, good Master !" 
 
 The woman and child knelt before the scowling 
 man, who bit his lip, determined not to yield to sen- 
 timent, or listen to argument. 
 
 " We sail to-morrow morning," said he, disregarding 
 her entreaty. " You must be ready to accompany me. 
 I shall leave a sum sufficient to maintain the woman 
 and her boy, but I never want you to speak of them 
 after we leave these wretched shores." 
 
 Berta fell prostrate on the floor, and gave way to 
 noisy grief. The child looked on in wide-eyed dismay 
 at the tumult of its nurse, when it flung itself on her 
 body and joined in her wailing. The Signer went to 
 the window and turned his back on the distracting 
 scene. 
 
 The woman hushed her own cries to soothe the 
 child, whom she took on her lap and hugged to her 
 breast, consoling him with the most endearing words. 
 
 "Master," said Berta, softly and sorrowfully, after
 
 294 TANCREDI. 
 
 she had succeeded in assuaging the grief of the 
 terrified boy. 
 
 " "Well, Berta, you speak ; what is it you would 
 say?" exclaimed the Signor, without turning from the 
 window. 
 
 " I will stay with Car!." 
 
 "As you will ; but know well what ifc is you do ; 
 you desert forever the house which has ever been 
 your home." 
 
 " God pity me ! I will not desert thy child !" 
 
 Tancredi had steeled his bosom against pity, he 
 had spurned all ties of blood, but when the simple 
 Berta braved his displeasure by defiantly standing up 
 for the innocent child his own child his heart was 
 reached through the stubborn armor. He turned 
 from the window to the grouping on the floor with 
 more of shame than anger. 
 
 The Italians seem endowed with the intuition of 
 art. The attitude of maid and child, with bodies bent 
 forward and hands stretched out in mute supplication, 
 presented a touching tableau, to which the Signor 
 yielded, and he gathered the boy in his arms. 
 
 " Go, get thee back to the cottage, mad Berta ; I 
 must bring you all back to Italy. But not a word to 
 Rosetta, not a word. Do not tell her I am here, or 
 that you have seen me to-day. Not a word to her, if 
 you regard me, and do you steal away with the boy
 
 TANCREDI. 295 
 
 by daylight to-morrow morning, and come to me. 
 Remember, not a word to Rosetta ; leave her to me." 
 
 Berta promised obedience, and, with Carl, went 
 home. 
 
 The next morning, Tancredi, Carl, and Berta 
 were taken on board the ship, from where they did 
 not stir till noon, when the anchor was weighed and 
 the}' were off to sea. Once again, as before, Michele 
 Tancredi was flying from Rosetta Godardo. 
 
 When Rosetta came down to breakfast on the 
 morning on which the ship sailed she missed Carl 
 and Berta, but thought little of the fact, believing 
 that they had gone out to take their morning walk. 
 But as the day wore away and the evening came on 
 without news of them she grew impatient, and when 
 the dark night fell on the uncertainty, she became 
 alarmed and distressed. She walked the floor the 
 whole night through, startled at every sound, hop- 
 ing that each noise betokened the return of the 
 wanderers. 
 
 "When morning dawned she started the one remain- 
 ing servant out to make inquiries ; he returned at 
 noon without having found the slightest trace of the 
 missing members. In the afternoon she went to the 
 mayor's office in the city, where she set on foot an 
 organized search for the lost maid and child. 
 
 She kept up her search by day and her vigils by
 
 296 TANCREDI. 
 
 night, and as each day and night came and went with- 
 out tidings of the lost, she became more and more 
 distressed and excited. The loss of sleep, abstinence 
 from food, and bereavement, began to make their 
 impress on her peculiar nervous system, and the wild 
 demoniac look again gleamed from her eyes, presaging 
 another attack of acute mania. 
 
 Her mind was so absorbed by the mysterious dis- 
 appearance and the vain search, that she thought of 
 little else, and did not even particularly mark the fail- 
 ure of Tancredi in making his usual bi-weekly visits. 
 Still, when a whole week passed without his appear- 
 ance, his unprecedented absence struck her as remark- 
 able, and she wondered at the circumstance. She 
 believed that he could aid her, besides she felt that it 
 was her duty to acquaint him of the loss. She started 
 immediately to Philadelphia. 
 
 When Madam Tancredi became convinced of her 
 husband's infidelity, she rapidly mapped out the 
 course proper to be pursued. She made confidents of 
 the Wallaces, and prevailed on them to keep her child 
 until after the brewing storm had blown over, and 
 Tancredi had departed for Europe. Kidnapping was 
 entertained as a contingency, and to remove such dire 
 possibility it was determined that Charles Tancredi 
 should remain concealed until all danger was past. 
 
 When more than a week had elapsed without news
 
 TAXCREDI. 207 
 
 of her banished husband, she concluded that lie had 
 sailed, that the danger was over, and she wrote her 
 cousin to send Charles and his nurse home at once. 
 
 By one of those coincidences which seem like inex- 
 orable doom, and from which dire issues sometimes 
 flow, Charles Tancredi and his nurse were on the 
 same train and in the same car which carried Kosetta 
 Godardo to Philadelphia. 
 
 The two children, Charles Tancredi and Carl 
 Godardo, resembled each other ; they were nearly of 
 the same age, and both were dark skinned. Rosetta, 
 whose keen eyes were ever on the watch, saw the 
 handsome child on the seat next immediately in front 
 of her, and was startled at his resemblance to her own 
 lost child. She was not long in making the acquaint- 
 ance of the spry young nurse, and quickly established 
 the most friendly relations with the child. 
 
 The nurse was young and attractive looking, was 
 giddj-, fond of being noticed, and easily cajoled. It 
 was easy for Kosetta to pump from her all she knew. 
 ^Nothing is more astonishing than the acuteness of the 
 average servant in detecting family secrets. This 
 domestic could have furnished material for a long 
 chapter of the secret history of Tancredi's domestic 
 life, and her facts would have been fairly authentic, 
 llosetta gathered from her enough information to 
 13*
 
 298 TANCREDI. 
 
 learn that Tailored! had separated from his wife, and 
 that he had gone back to Italy. 
 
 The true state of affairs flashed through her 
 irritable brain like a blaze of inspiration, and she could 
 scarcely suppress a cry of anguish. Tancredi had 
 quarrelled with his wife on her, Kosetta's, account, he 
 had gone home to Italy never to return, he had 
 deserted her and had taken away with him her own 
 child, Carl, along with Berta. Tancredi, the Betrayer ! 
 Berta, tho Child Stealer ! 
 
 Her first impulse was to turn back and hunt the 
 traitors down ; her next thought was to slay this child 
 now reposing in her lap this, his own child kill 
 him, and be revenged ! 
 
 The pleased child twined its dimpled arms about 
 her neck and toyed with the necklace at her throat ; it 
 looked up in her face in smiles, as would her own 
 darling, were he nestling on her bosom. Kill thee ? 
 Sweet one ! No I Thou art not thy perfidious 
 father ! 
 
 She had been robbed of her child, why not rob 
 Madam Tancredi of her child? Why not steal him. 
 and square the account with Tancredi who had stolen 
 her child ? Why not carry this child away where it 
 would learn to love her, and console her for her loss ? 
 
 Revenge incited and opportunity pointed out the 
 road.
 
 TANCREDL 299 
 
 The caution and cunning, sometimes so marked in 
 the insane, guided her in the sudden project and 
 muffled the storm raging in her breast. 
 
 She applied herself to the task of pleasing the child 
 and cajoling the maid. The former took kindly to the 
 woman with the musical voice and the glittering jewel 
 at her throat, while the nurse willingly surrendered 
 her charge to the clever fellow passenger, and gave her 
 attention to the flirtation carried on between her and 
 two young men seated in front of her. 
 
 " Why, only see how soundly Charles is sleeping !" 
 she exclaimed, looking around to see the child resting 
 quietly on the lap of the strange woman. 
 
 The seat occupied by Kosetta was near the rear 
 door. The train stopped at a station as it neared 
 Philadelphia. 
 
 The woman, holding the sleeping child in her arms, 
 arose from her seat, while her gleaming eyes watched 
 the occupied nurse in front of her. 
 
 She stepped into the aisle. 
 
 She glided to the doorway, and stood on the plat- 
 form outside. The conductor assisted her to alight. 
 
 The bell rang, the wheels revolved, and the train 
 moved off, leaving her standing on the station plat- 
 form with the sleeping boy in her arms. 
 
 She turned toward the North and disappeared 
 among the green lanes of the country.
 
 300 TANCREDI. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 "0 Vengeance, take me all, I'm wholly thine." 
 
 As THE train approached the West Philadelphia 
 depot, the passengers began that fidgetty stir of prepa- 
 ration peculiar to American assemblages when Hearing 
 the end of the play, the lecture or the journey, and 
 which suggests the uncomfortable feeling that they 
 should have remained at home, and not come out to 
 annoy better mannered people. 
 
 When the train stopped, and the flirting nurse 
 looked around to resume her charge, lo, the seat was 
 empty ! 
 
 In trepidation she searched for Charles through the 
 cars in vain ; the boy and the strange woman were not 
 to be found. While running about, thoroughly fright- 
 ened, she came across the conductor, who learned the 
 cause of her distress. He told her that the strange 
 woman had alighted with the boy at a station just out- 
 side of the city. This was terrible news to carry to 
 Madam Tancredi, who was waiting close by in a car- 
 riage to receive the darling of her heart. 
 
 " O Madam, forgive me ! But Charles is lost !"
 
 TANCREDI. 301 
 
 exclaimed the terrified girl, alarmed anew at sight of 
 her mistress. 
 
 " What is the matter, girl ; and where is Charles ?" 
 asked Madam in eager alarm. 
 
 " Madam, there is some mistake, and, I trust, only 
 a mistake," said the conductor, coming forward and 
 making himself known. " I saw the woman with the 
 child sleeping in her lap, and 1 supposed that she was 
 its mother and this girl the nurse ; so, when she got 
 off at the station a few miles back from here with the 
 child, I thought nothing strange, and I offered no 
 objection, but assisted her to alight. I feel confident 
 that she meant no harm to the child, and that she will 
 be speedily found and your child restored to you." 
 
 " Please describe as near as you can her appear- 
 ance," she requested of the conductor. 
 
 " She was small, quick-motioned, dark-skinned, 
 very handsome, and she had the blackest eyes I ever 
 saw." 
 
 The look of anguish deepened on Madam's face as 
 she heard the conductor describe the person of Rosetta 
 Godardo, the person of all others she detested, the 
 person of all others into whose keeping she most 
 dreaded to trust her child. She mastered her feelings 
 so well, however, that of all the group of listeners she 
 was the most self-possessed. 
 
 During the whole of the past week, her mind had
 
 302 TAHCHEDL 
 
 been tortured with the dread that her husband might 
 attempt to get possession of Charles, his and her son. 
 After his damnable treachery, she believed him capa- 
 ble of any villainy. And now the boy was missing 
 stolen by his mistress and accomplice, Tancredi was, 
 then, still in New York, (so she believed) where he 
 had laid his plot, and from where he had sent out his 
 paramour and companion in guilt, to kidnap his son, 
 Charles Tancredi. 
 
 What other hypothesis would account for the 
 abduction ? Who besides the father would have any 
 interest in stealing the boy ? What other person 
 could possibly have a motive for the deed? There 
 was but one person in all the world that could have 
 any interest in the abduction, and that person was the 
 boy's father, Michele Tancredi. He had, then, not 
 sailed for Europe, but was lingering in ]$Tew York 
 that he might get possession of his son to carry him 
 away to Italy. 
 
 The plan of action she hastily planned was based 
 on this theory. She saw hopes of yet defeating his 
 plot, and she lost no time in useless lament, but 
 started detectives on the trail at once. She drove 
 direct to the station where the Godardo had alighted. 
 
 Strange as it may appear, and unfortunate as it 
 was, none of the residents at or about the country sta- 
 tion had seen the woman or child, and hence no clue
 
 TANCREDI. 308 
 
 could be had of the direction taken by the fugitives. 
 The detectives decided, (they always decide, and often 
 as in this case, wrongly) that she had entered the 
 city the decision acted on by them. A sharp look- 
 out was kept for her at the railway stations, and indus- 
 trious search was made high and low throughout the 
 city. 
 
 On the next morning after the kidnapping, news 
 was brought that the child was found in a village up 
 the Delaware, where he was held for identification. 
 "When the mother reached the place the child was 
 already restored to its parents. 
 
 Madam Tancredi was confidently assured by the 
 detectives that it would be impossible for the child- 
 stealer to escape arrest. But when the evening of the 
 second day came without the slightest additional clue, 
 she became impatient, and despatched detectives to 
 watch the movements of Tancredi in New York. 
 
 There it was learned, from his bankers and from 
 other sources, that the Signor had actually sailed for 
 Europe in company with a woman and child, the lat- 
 ter answering the description of Charles Taucredi. 
 Indeed, one of the officers of the bank had heard the 
 woman call the boy Carl. 
 
 When this report was made to Madam Tancredi, 
 she was convinced that her husband had succeeded in 
 escaping with her child, and that he was already far
 
 304 TANCREDI. 
 
 out at sea beyond the possibility of rescue. Accord- 
 ingly she called off the detectives and gave up what 
 was now a useless search. 
 
 The reader is now in possession of two links which , 
 have places somewhere in the chain of this story. 
 One link is the maniac woman who died at the miller's 
 cottage, leaving the child, Jarl ; the other link is 
 Hosetta Godardo, the maniac avenger, who fled into 
 the wilderness with Charles Tancredi, the lawful heir 
 of her betrayer, Signer Michele Tancredi. 
 
 Poor lost woman of the fiery blood and heart of 
 passion ! Life to thee was a pendulum swinging 
 between joy and despair. The grave none too soon 
 gave repose to thy turbulent spirit. 
 
 Forgive her ! Magdalene was the last at the cross. 
 Forgive her ! Magdalene was the first at the resur- 
 rection. Forgive her, for, 
 
 " Though justice be thy plea, consider this, 
 That in the course of justice none of us 
 
 Should see salvation." 
 
 Madam Tancredi had found her child, but found 
 him lost to her, and months must elapse before lie 
 could be restored. The proud woman was severely 
 broken by the long continued disquiet, which reached 
 its climax on the abduction of the darling of her heart, 
 and for weeks she lay prostrated with grief and illness.
 
 TANCKEDI. 805 
 
 When her health was improved, she wrote and mailed 
 to Naples the following letter : 
 
 MICHELE TANCEEDI. 
 
 Signor : You have robbed a mother of her child. 
 It was the only thing she had to love in all this whole 
 world, and she is deprived of it by you. By this time 
 you should feel sufficiently avenged. Surely you can- 
 not, will not, be so lost to pity as to prolong a mother's 
 agony. What sacrifice will you name as the price of 
 his restoration to his distracted mother ? 
 
 ALICE TANCBEDI. 
 
 After a tedious and harrowing wait, she got the 
 following reply : 
 
 MADAM ALICE TANCKEDI. 
 
 The boy is with me. Nothing will induce me to 
 restore him to his mother, but your forgiveness and 
 our reconciliation. M. TANCKEDI. 
 
 Strong as was her love for her child her indigna- 
 tion toward her husband was stronger still. She could 
 not bring herself to condone his crime, even to satisfy 
 the cravings of maternal instinct. The martyrdom of 
 a childless life would be, if not less endurable, at least 
 more honorable than the reconciliation given in 
 exchange for what was every mother's right the right 
 to possess and care for her own child.
 
 306 TANCREDI. 
 
 In character and temperament Alice Tancrcdi 
 was heroic, and of that quality of heroism requisite in 
 the absolute monarch. What she set her mind on waa 
 made a part of her life. She took no backward steps 
 she never retreated, for she always burnt her ships 
 behind her. 
 
 Love for her husband had gone out in hate ; she 
 hated his name, loathed his sin, and despised the num. 
 Any relationship with him, even of a compulsory 
 nature, was an unmitigated evil. She had cast him 
 off forever ; and now, to regain her child by forgive- 
 ness and reconciliation, was, to her mind, little short 
 of condonement of his sin, and justification of his 
 treacheiy. The idea of even indirectly palliating his 
 guilt, or screening him from punishment, was, to her, 
 revolting, criminal and impossible. 
 
 Of course she was ignorant of the existence of her 
 husband's extra marital son. She was under the delu- 
 sion that he had taken away his and her son, who was 
 stolen from the cars by the Godardo, and that Charles 
 T-ancredi, her son, was now in Italy. 
 
 She might possibly have entertained his proposition 
 if his sinning had ceased on his expulsion from her 
 home ; but when he super-added to the crime of child- 
 stealing, that of flagrant criminal relationship with the 
 singing woman, his partner in gm'lt, she rejected his 
 proposition as addecl Insult to injury. Tancredi's let-
 
 TANCREDI. 307 
 
 ter, instead of mollifying her displeasure, only served 
 to intensify her indignation, and confirm her in her 
 determination to show no quarter to the unscrupulous 
 and shameless villian. 
 
 Signer Tancredi, very naturally on his part, was 
 ignorant of the abduction of his own son, Charles 
 Tancredi. By the peculiar construction of his wife's 
 letter, he got the impression that Rosetta Godardo was 
 the " distracted mother " referred to, and that on miss- 
 ing her child, she had gone in her despair to Madam 
 Tancredi, whom she had succeeded in enlisting to in- 
 tercede for the restoration of the child, Carl Godardo. 
 
 If either letter had been less cold and formal, if 
 either had been written with the candor becoming the 
 husband and wife, the mistake would have been pre- 
 vented, and the evil which befel Charles Tancredi 
 would never have followed. The penalty of the 
 parent's stubborn wrong fell like a blight on the young 
 outcast. 
 
 Time with its corroding breath scattered the rust 
 of estrangement through the sombre halls of the Tan- 
 credi. The woman sat defiant among the ashes of 
 bereavement, while the man stood among the desolate 
 altars like a stubborn statue of remorse. Pride and 
 guilt allied to roll an ocean between the husband and 
 wife ; across the dark waters a mother's love brooded
 
 303 TANCREDI. 
 
 like the spirit of light moving on the chaotic sea of a 
 world just born. 
 
 Four years passed away with their ebb and flow of 
 joy and sorrow. During all this time Madam Tan- 
 credi had not ceased her importunate demands for the 
 restoration of her child. Nearly every ship bore a 
 request to the father and some token of endearment to 
 her darling boy. But she stubbornly maintained her 
 unswerving opposition to her husband, while he was 
 as unyielding in his exactions as ever. Of course it 
 was impossible that he should have received so many 
 impassioned letters from his wife without having dis- 
 covered that his and her son was actually stolen and 
 lost. He also knew that it was must have been the 
 work of the Godardo, who did it to revenge herself on 
 him. 
 
 None but this father can realize what were the 
 fealings that rankled in his remorseful breast when ho 
 learned the awful truth. He had robbed a mother of 
 her child, that mother had retaliated by robbing him 
 of his child. And, horrible to think, he must hold his 
 peace ! Let imagination, if it likes, complete the har- 
 rowing picture. 
 
 What could the guilt-stricken man now do to right 
 the wrong? If he told his wife the truth it would be 
 at the further expense of honor already almost bank- 
 rupt. His wife knew nothing cf the existence of
 
 TANCREDI. 309 
 
 Carl Godardo ; she believed that the latter was her 
 real son. No good, but much evil might result if she 
 were told of the infamous story. He kept his secret. 
 
 He wrote to his confidential agent in Kew York, 
 asking information concerning the Godardo, and 
 instructing him to discover her whereabouts. Gone, 
 no one knew whither, was the answer. 
 
 Berta received her instructions, she would keep the 
 secret inviolate. If Madam Tancredi ever discovered 
 the truth about her son, it would be at her husband's 
 option. 
 
 After four years of failure to recover her child, 
 and no longer able to endure the pangs of separation, 
 she determined to visit Naples, and try her personal 
 presence and influence on the obdurate father. 
 
 She notified him of her proposed journey, to which 
 he made no objection ; indeed he rather encouraged 
 her visit, and fitted up his beautiful villa for her 
 reception during her stay in Italy. 
 
 At first, for a week or two of her sojourn at the 
 villa, the anticipated joy at meeting and enjoying her 
 child was scarcely realized. She was, however, solaced 
 with the reflection that he had been taken from her at 
 the tender age of three, and had not seen her for four 
 years. Little wonder that he had forgetten her ! But 
 she devoted herself so heartily to his service that in a 
 month's time the little fellow came to accept her
 
 310 TANCREDI. 
 
 caresses, and was reconciled to the companionship of 
 the new mamma, who spoke in a language he could not 
 understand. Before two months had passed he was 
 pleased to bestow much of his affection on the grati- 
 fied mother. 
 
 The discreet and disciplined Berta stood by and 
 gazed on the pair with an expression well suited to her 
 office. 
 
 " Don't yon think, nurse, that my child has grown 
 much darker-skinned since he came to Italy ?" asked 
 Madam Alice of Berta. 
 
 " Yes, Madam ; it's the hot climate ; the bright 
 sun it is. Dear Carl ! he loves the sunlight so well ! 
 Why, he was ever ou doors before you came." 
 
 " Don't he know any English, whatever ? He could 
 speak many English words before he left me." 
 
 " No one English speak him. He not hear much 
 of that some four years." 
 
 " Nurse," said Madam, on another occasion, " tell 
 me, for I have no one else to ask, where is the woman, 
 Godardo 2" 
 
 "Madam, I know not. My master has seen her 
 not since from your house in Philadelphia he came 
 away." 
 
 " Why will you try to deceive me ?" 
 
 " I deceive you not ; I tell you true ; my master 
 thinks her dead."
 
 TANCKEDI. 811 
 
 "Do you tell me that she did not come away with 
 your master to Italy ? Will you tell me that it was 
 not she who stole my child ?" 
 
 " Indeed, Madam, she came not then, nor at any 
 time since. It was I who came away with master." 
 
 "Yon? But it was not you who stole my child 
 from the cars ; it was the Godardo. The description 
 I got at the time was too clear to mistake her identity." 
 
 " That may be, Madam, but I solemnly swear that 
 Carl came over with master and me, and that the 
 Godardo came not. This I swear ; help me all saints !" 
 
 The puzzled woman pondered over the new infor- 
 mation for days. If Berta spoke the truth, the sub- 
 ject stood in another light, and her harsh judgment 
 demanded revision. If it turned out that Tancrcdi had 
 not been and was not now harboring the woman who 
 was the cause of all the trouble, then she could believe 
 that, while he was bad enough, he was not so utterly 
 depraved as she had held him to be. 
 
 She had not met her husband since her arrival at 
 Naples.. She gave him credit for his tact and delicacy 
 in this. She requested an interview. 
 
 The Signor came at once. 
 
 " I sent for you," said the cold woman, without 
 looking at him, " to ask if you will permit my child to 
 return home with me ?"
 
 312 TANCREDI. 
 
 " Will you return so soon ?" he asked, politely, bnt 
 evasively. 
 
 "I prefer to return immediately. Outside my 
 child there is nothing to detain me here." 
 
 " Say not that ! My sister, Signora Adelaide, will 
 be most happy to meet you. She is absent on a visit 
 to Sicily, but we expect her home at any time, and 
 she may be here to-day. If you depart before she 
 returns she will be sadly disappointed." 
 
 " Your good sister and I cannot be as we once were ; 
 misfortune such as mine cools friendship." 
 
 " My sister will persist in loving you as she ever 
 did, since there is no cause why she should not. Your 
 misfortune pardon me, our misfortune will not cool 
 her friendship for you." 
 
 " But the child will you give me your answer?" 
 
 " My answer you already have ; why repeat it ?" 
 
 " Tour answer ! 1 think you mean your terms, 
 forgiveness reconciliation." 
 
 " Ah, Madam, do you count those terms so hard ? 
 And hard they must be when they separate you from 
 your child !" 
 
 The wife sat with head bowed down for a long 
 time in silent thought. Tancredi made no move to 
 disturb her reverie. 
 
 " Where is that vile woman who stole my child,
 
 TANCREDI. 813 
 
 the woman who caused all this trouble ?" she suddenly 
 asked, gazing for the first time at her husband. 
 
 " As God is my judge, I know not. I have not 
 seen her have not even heard of her since I left New 
 York, and I believe her dead." 
 
 " It was she who stole my child." 
 
 " Alas that that crime should come between ns ! 
 Is there not enough without that spectre of the past ? 
 Let it be buried from our sight forever. I have 
 expressed my profound sorrow for the wrong done 
 you, and for the grief you have borne ; I do so again, 
 and ask you to forgive me." 
 
 " Who ordered her to steal my child 2" 
 
 The husband made no reply. 
 
 " Was it you 2" 
 
 The Signor was silent. 
 
 " Since you will not tell me, I shall hold you 
 responsible for the crime." 
 
 " I cannot answer your question." 
 
 " Then I shall return home, childless, as I came," 
 said the wife, sorrowfully, as she arose and terminated 
 the interview by walking slowly and sadly away. 
 
 It has already been shown that Signora Adelaide 
 was not always partial to her brother's acts, although 
 strongly attached to him as a brother. II is relations 
 to the cantatriee had always been the cause of dissen- 
 sion between them, and the source of much grief to 
 14
 
 314 TANCREDI. 
 
 her. The sister was not aware of all, nor the half, of 
 his heinous conduct, which resulted in the separation 
 from his wife ; she knew nothing of the two boys, and 
 never dreamed that the child now in her brother's 
 possession, was other than he was represented, the 
 child of Madam Alice Tancredi. She knew enough, 
 however, to feel convinced that her brother was 
 almost wholly to blame in the case, and that her sister- 
 in-law was a wronged woman. 
 
 She therefore entered the presence of Madam 
 Alice strongly prejudiced in her favor. The meeting 
 was characterized by great tenderness on the part of 
 both ladies. At first the American was cold and cau- 
 tious, but she could not long withstand the sunny 
 warmth and mesmeric kindness that beamed in the 
 face and thrilled in the voice of Adelaide, and before 
 she was willing, Alice melted down in alternate tears 
 and smiles, which banished all reserve. 
 
 Of course their talk was on the subject uppermost 
 in their minds. It is impossible to give their methods 
 or tell how they reached agreement such was the 
 delicate tact of the one, and the charming complai- 
 sance of the other; but they did arrive at a conclusion 
 that was satisfactory all around. They agreed that it 
 would be best for all concerned to terminate the 
 unfortunate quarrel by forgiveness and reconciliation.
 
 TANCREDI. 313 
 
 The long estranged husband and wife were re- 
 united, and returned to Philadelphia with the child, 
 where they settled down to tranquil content, if not to 
 unalloyed bliss.
 
 316 TANCREDI. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 " I am constant as the northern star, 
 Of whose true, fixed, and resting quality 
 There is no fellow in the firmament." 
 
 " TAPLAN, what do you say to a trip across the 
 Alleghenies? I have a friend in Pittsburgh who has 
 been writing to me to come out there, and I've sent him 
 word I'll go. He tells me I'm sure of a good berth at 
 good wages. "What do you say, old friend, will you go 
 along, as the spider said to the fly ?" 
 
 Thus spoke Martin Haley to John Taplan, as they 
 lounged about the Battery one afternoon. The person 
 addressed looked up as if he were not sure the talk was 
 meant for him, and even then he seemed to have for- 
 gotten what was said, for he made no reply. 
 
 Haley spoke again. 
 
 " My friend tells me the coal trade on the Ohio 
 river is a big thing, and growin' bigger every year. 
 It gives good berths for first-class boatman, and he says 
 anybody willing to grow up with the trade will get 
 rich. Now, I'm goin' there ; I'm gottin' tired of the 
 sea, an'll try my luck on a western steamboat. Come, 
 what do you say, will you go along ?"
 
 TANCREDI- 817 
 
 "Me? Go along? That's good! Best I ever 
 heard ! Couldn't pay my ferriage to the Jersey shore 1" 
 
 " Oh, never mind the money, as the lion said to the 
 lamb. I've lots, and enough for us both ; the thing is, 
 will you go ?" 
 
 "Yes." . 
 
 " I want you along to take care of me, for I might 
 get sick, as the monkey said to the sugar. Too many 
 people know me here, and I'm goin' to the dogs. I'm 
 goin' out there to begin life on the new, as Jonah said 
 to the" 
 
 "Didn't I say I'm going along?" 
 
 "That's the way to talk, old Jack! I was sure 
 you wouldn't go back on your old mate. You must 
 have a travelin' suit ; that jacket ain't fit for a travel- 
 in' man ; you need a trosser, as the young woman said. 
 We're a goin' on a weddin' trip. Let's see what 
 Moses has in the toggery line ; come along." 
 
 The two companions entered a clothing shop, 
 where John was fitted to a bran new suit the " tros- 
 ser " alluded to by Haley. The new coat on, like the 
 king's shilling accepted, confirmed the bargain between 
 Haley and Taplan. After he had squirmed a few times 
 to familiarize himself with the unusual sensation of 
 wearing a new and complete suit, he announced him- 
 self as ready for the " weddin' trip." 
 
 " This evenin' at eight sharp, we start ; and be on
 
 318 TANCREDI. 
 
 deck, old man, for I won't go without you, as the thief 
 said to the policeman." 
 
 John buttoned up the new coat and nodded, as 
 much as to say, no back out here ; I'll be on deck. 
 
 " And, Jack," said Haley, in a confidential voice, 
 taking hold of the lapel of John's coat, and drawing 
 him aside, in the most mysterious manner. 
 
 Someone came along, and Haley coughed, as if sur- 
 prised in some questionable trick. He waited till the 
 intruder passed out of hearing. 
 
 " See, here, Jack," he resumed, in the same cau- 
 tious manner of half fear, half dread, as if hesitating 
 to speak of further contingencies of the co-partnership, 
 contingencies unpleasant but unavoidable ; "See here, 
 Jack!" 
 
 " My, God, are you dying ?" 
 
 No." 
 
 " What's up, then ?" 
 
 " Let's understand each other, old shipmate." 
 
 " Something bad ? Speak out." 
 
 "No .more wins kee !" whispered Haley in 
 Jack's ear. 
 
 " There, I knew it was something bad ; I could 
 see it in your face. No more whiskey ! Why, that's 
 worse than dying." 
 
 "No more grog, Jack." 
 
 "What! None? No! You don't mean it!
 
 TANCREDI. 319 
 
 That's too little by a jugful! Can't stand it!" 
 exclaimed Taplan, beginning to unbutton the coat. 
 
 "Well, what do yon call enough 2" asked Haley, 
 with very pale face. 
 
 " Sixteen drinks a day," promptly answered the 
 junior partner with the ready air of one who computes 
 by carefully prepared statistics. 
 
 " How can you manage to get outside sixteen 
 drinks in one day ?" 
 
 " By system in your work and strict attention to 
 business." 
 
 " What is your system ?" 
 
 " One for an eye-opener, and one before breakfast. 
 Are you keeping count 2" 
 
 " Yes ; that's two." 
 
 " One to settle your hash, and two in the forenoon. 
 Score." 
 
 " That's five." 
 
 " One before dinner, one after for a hasher, and 
 three in the course of the afternoon. Tally." 
 
 " That's ten." 
 
 " One before, one after supper, and three friendly 
 social snifters in the evening. That's sixteen Joe- 
 rums, if I understand figures. Is that what you make 
 it ?" 
 
 " Only fifteen, Jack ; but enough." 
 
 "Hold on, hold on. There's a cheat somewhere.
 
 820 TANCREDI. 
 
 I forgot my night-cap. That makes sixteen square, 
 honest drinks, if I've kept a careful account, and none 
 to spare." 
 
 " That's too much." 
 
 " Just in time ! I'm glad you spoke before things 
 went too far ; you might have got me into trouble," 
 exclaimed Taplan, pulling off the coat, evidently with 
 the intention of resuming his old jacket and his inde- 
 pendence. 
 
 " Hold on, Jack ; don't go for to make a beast of 
 yourself," exclaimed Haley, growing red in the face, 
 and catching hold of Jack's arm to prevent him from 
 drawing the only arm remaining in the sleeve. 
 
 "Sixteen drinks a day don't make a beast. Why, 
 you must think I'm cast-iron to stand such a blow as 
 that would give me. I'm weak enough, now. I'll 
 have the man with the poker after me if you cut off 
 my grog sudden like that !" 
 
 " Make it a drink before meals ; that's a plenty for 
 a travelin' business man." 
 
 " What if I break down, will you bear the 
 blame?" 
 
 " I'll take kear of you, as the hawk said to the 
 dove." 
 
 John stood for some time looking down at the new 
 coat, partly clinging to his left arm and partly drag- 
 ging on the floor, as if it were weakly pleading the
 
 TANCREDI. 321 
 
 course of sobriety, and then he cast a briefer glance at 
 the calm old jacket lying on the counter, as if in a 
 drunken sleep. John took brief time with the old 
 garment, perhaps because it was a familiar study. 
 The outcome of his reverie was the offer of a compro- 
 mise. 
 
 " Make it a night-cap in, and it's a bargain," said 
 Jack, very quietly, but earnestly. 
 
 " Well, night-cap it is. That's four drinks a day ; 
 honor bright, now, Taplan, as the thief said to his 
 mate." 
 
 " Honor !" exclaimed the poor inebriate, as he 
 crossed his breast to solemnize his vow. He proceeded 
 to re-adjust the critical coat to his bloated body. 
 
 u Here, Moses, is the cash for the trosser," said 
 Haley, counting down the sum. "We come pooty 
 near purchasing elsewhere before we looked at your 
 goods." 
 
 The two men, Haley and Taplan settled down at 
 Pittsburgh, where they found no difficulty in obtain- 
 ing employment on one of the steamers or tugs, used 
 to tow coal barges to and from the south and south- 
 west markets. The boat on which they shipped was 
 owned by Frederick Kellim. 
 
 The constant and laborious employment, together 
 with the impossibility of obtaining grog for two and 
 three week voyages, straightened up John Tuplan, to 
 14*
 
 822 TA-NCREDI. 
 
 use Haley's expression. He soon looked much 
 improved. Before many months, Taplan attracted 
 the favorable notice of Rellim, who gave him the 
 superintendency of his local business about the wharves 
 and landings hi Pittsburgh. He was sometimes 
 required to visit Kellim's country residence on busi- 
 ness connected with the coal trade. 
 
 While on his way to the latter place on one occa- 
 sion, and while passing the old mill, he was attracted 
 by cries of distress coming from the direction of the 
 mill race, where he ran and saw a young woman 
 wringing her hands and crying lustily. 
 
 He saw at a glance the cause of her distress ; a 
 child had fallen into the swift stream, and was rapidly 
 drifting toward the floodgate, through which it would 
 be drawn and broken on the ponderous revolving 
 wheel, unless immediately rescued. 
 
 To spring into the water and drag the urchin out 
 from the very vortex of the whirlpool was the work of 
 a moment. He handed the half-drowned lad out to the 
 3 7 oung woman, who clasped him in her arms and fled to 
 the house, leaving Taplan to scramble out as best he 
 might. He crawled out of the flood, shook himself 
 like a Newfoundland dog, and resumed his journey. 
 
 On his return he was intercepted by the miller, 
 who had learned of Jarl's mishap and his rescue by 
 Rellim's sailor, as Taplan was called.
 
 TANCREDI. 323 
 
 " Give us a shake, my friend ?" said Jackman, 
 reaching out one hand, while he held the gate ajar with 
 the other. " You must excuse Prudy ; she was so 
 shook up she didn't know which end was up. Excuse 
 her." 
 
 John shook hands and " excused " Prudy on the 
 spot ; but nothing would do Nate but the sailor's 
 entrance into the cottage, where he shook hands with 
 Prudence, and attempted to nurse the resuscitated Jarl 
 on his wet knee. 
 
 Jarl objected to the wet seat he had had enougk 
 moisture in his for a day. This started Nate to 
 hunt up his Sunday suit, and willy nilly, John got into 
 them, leaving his wet clothes to dry. John blushed as 
 lie came down stairs with the miller's finery on, and 
 blushed still more at fancying he saw a mischeivous 
 smile in Prudy's eye on behalf of the ludicrous figure 
 he cut in her father's old style garments. 
 
 On taking his leave he promised to come back for 
 his clothes on the morrow. After this exciting though 
 pleasant introduction raany's the time was he seated by 
 the cottage hearth or leaning on the front gate 
 exchanging weather notes with Prudence. A warm 
 friendship grew up between Taplan and the Jackmans, 
 indeed he monopolized the guest's place at the cottage, 
 for, as we have seen, the neighbors kept aloof. 
 
 " How about the grog, Jack ?" asked Haley, a
 
 8-34 TANCREDI. 
 
 month or so after the time when Jarl was rescued 
 from drowning. "I hav'n't seen you taste a d.-op I 
 don't know the day when." 
 
 "And, my friend, you never will again, thanks to 
 you for sticking to me even when I had deserted my- 
 self." 
 
 " You don't mean to tell me ! And have you 
 given up whiskey for good ?" 
 
 " That's what I mean, Haley." 
 
 "I'm glad! Oh, but I'm glad! Old Fellow! 
 Now you look like the old Jack I used to know ! God 
 bless you, Jack ! Oh, but I'm glad !" 
 
 It is not easy to wring tears of joy from toilworn, 
 brawny-hearted men. Such tears, when they do flow, 
 are peculiarly ominous of deep heart-soundings. Tap- 
 Ian and Haley stood holding each other by the hands, 
 and looked through tears into tear-brimmed eyes. 
 They looked none the less manly for those tears. 
 
 It was true, John Taplan was redeemed from the 
 slavery of the inordinate cup. He gave the credit to 
 Martin Haley, and surely that friend's constancy was 
 above praise, but it was the gentle Prudence Jackman 
 who completed and established the reformation, begun 
 by Haley in the clothing shop in New York. His step 
 was lighter, eyes brighter, actions brisker, tongue 
 readier, brain clearer, manners more social, and drets 
 tidier than ever before.
 
 TANCREDI. 325 
 
 Taplan had asked Prudence to become his wife 
 and she had consented. 
 
 The provident pair waited for the time when he 
 could provide the essentials of a substantial copartner- 
 ship. But notwithstanding his industry and economy 
 during five years service with Rellim, he made but 
 slow advance in his position, and saved but a small 
 amount out of his moderate earnings. His employer 
 kept him as a drudge on a drudge's pay, while less 
 competent or deserving men were advanced over him 
 in place and salary. In modern times John would 
 have struck for higher wages ; in those days dissatis- 
 fied toilers struck for the gold diggings of California. 
 John shipped as a sailor on a vessel bound for San 
 Francisco via Cape Horn. 
 
 Years passed away without news of John Taplan, 
 the sailor, but Patience Jackman kept his memory and 
 her faith, companions in her true heart.
 
 TANCREDI. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 "I have a silent sorrow here, 
 A grief I'll ne'er impart ; 
 It breathes no sigh, it sheds no tear, 
 Yet it consumes my heart." 
 
 "SEE, here! youngster, let this be a warning to 
 yon ! Keep out of fights until you are old enough to 
 take care of yourself." 
 
 This admonition was bestowed on Jarl on a street 
 in Philadelphia. The person who gave it was a 
 bronzed, broad shouldered stranger, who had rescued 
 the lad from the very midst of a howling, tramping 
 mob of firemen, who, in those days, generally wound 
 up a fire with a riot, in which rival companies and 
 their friends pounded each other with brick-bats and 
 paving stones. 
 
 " John Taplan ! John Taplan ! Hurrah ! Hurrah 
 for John Taplan !" shouted Jarl at the top of his 
 voice, and heedless of his recent peril and his present 
 bloody nose he rushed into the arms of the surprised 
 sailor. 
 
 It was indeed the long absent John Tuplan, just 
 returned from the gold mines of California, and on his 
 route to Pittsburgh.
 
 TANOREDI. 327 
 
 As a matter of course the information he got from 
 Jarl made the remaining part of his journey super- 
 fluous. He was piloted by Jarl to Nate Jackman's 
 house, and was there heralded by his guide shouting 
 " Hurrah for John Taplan !" 
 
 Taplan had made his " Pile of dust," but like all 
 the " returned Californians " of those days, he was 
 bound to go back to the "diggings," and only returned 
 to the u States" to carry away Prudence Jackman as his 
 wife. Nor was he long in accomplishing his errand 
 they were married and off for the Pacific slope before 
 Nate could realize that he was childless. The old miller 
 and Jarl broke up housekeeping and went to live with 
 Mrs. Heron. 
 
 This lady took a strong liking for Jarl, and charged 
 herself with every motherly care, superintending his 
 education, mending his clothes, going through his 
 pockets, hiding his pistols, and executing other like 
 duties universally thought indispensible in the rearing 
 of young males. She breveted him her chief clerk, 
 that is, he was to become that official, after some years 
 of schooling to fit him for the place. A part of her 
 plan was kept secret, which was to marry him to her 
 niece, Charlotte Duval. 
 
 Nearly opposite to the Heron mansion, where Jarl 
 now lived, dwelt a celebrated tragedian. Jarl had 
 often watched the great man come and go, and re-
 
 32S TANCREDI. 
 
 garded him with that awe and admiration felt for a 
 superior being. The kingly tread and' grace of the 
 superb, loud-voiced man, impressed the boy with a 
 craving desire to become snch a man. The observant 
 actor began to take some notice of the bright and 
 handsome youth, and the casual street acquaintance 
 between the man and boy grew and ripened into the 
 most friendly intimacy. The proud man loved to 
 have Jarl in his sombre home ; he seemed to bring 
 with him there the sunshine of country skies and the 
 lark of the blossoming meadows. But the actor also 
 took a practical interest in the lad, and persuaded Mrs. 
 Heron and Nate Jackman to allow Jaii to be in- 
 structed in music and elocution, the latter under his 
 immediate supervision. 
 
 A year or more had passed in this pleasant man- 
 ner, during which time Jarl made rapid progress in 
 his studies, especially in music, which art seemed to 
 come to him intuitively. His voice was already phe- 
 nomenal in its compass, power and richness ; besides 
 there was that in bis style and presence so thrilling 
 and passionate, as to stamp him with the impress of 
 high talent, if not genius. 
 
 With these elements and environments it was nat- 
 ural that he should fall in love with the stage, and 
 he began preparing himself for the profession of the 
 actor. When his tutor, the tragedian, appeared on the
 
 TANCREDL 839 
 
 stage in Philadelphia, lie delighted and encouraged the 
 boy by assigning to him some minor part, or, as was 
 then not uncommon, some by-play interluded into the 
 main drama of the evening's entertainment. On one 
 such occasion Jarl personated a shepherd boy, with song. 
 
 In that audience sat Signor Michele Tancredi, 
 looking older, and more sedate, but as distinguished as 
 ever. 
 
 On the following day the manager of the Walnut 
 Street Theatre was waited on by Tancredi, who re- 
 quested a clue to the shepherd boy of the evening 
 before. He was referred to the actor, and the actor 
 took him to Nate Jackman. The Siguor was closeted 
 for a long time with the old miller, and came away at 
 last as pale as death. 
 
 There can be no doubt but that at that interview 
 he learned the story of Jarl, from the then present, 
 back to when he was left at the old mill by a dying 
 woman. Without doubt he saw and handled the relics 
 kept so guardedly all those years by the miller the 
 two lockets with the portraits inside of both, and with 
 his first name written by his own hand on the back of 
 one. He must have seen and recognized the defaced 
 picture of his wife. 
 
 There was no scene no outward tumult, on the 
 occasion when Tancredi identified his long lost son. 
 He was white of face, but he was not the kind of man
 
 800 TANCREDI. 
 
 to allow his emotions to explode in outward tumult. 
 Powerful impressions only made him more ijtoical 
 because more guarded. On this special occasion he 
 was as calm as a June morning, as placid as the surface 
 of the moon. But we who are endowed with lively 
 imaginations, may enter into his secret feelings and 
 appreciate what was, or should have been, his remorse. 
 And, in estimating his inward disquiet and his outward 
 quiet, we may conceive how possible it was for the 
 Spartan to make no cry, though the fox dug at his 
 vitals. 
 
 From our knowledge of the man it would be 
 expected that he would keep his remorseful secret 
 locked up in his breast, and he did. But the ties of 
 consanguinity, the prickings of conscience, and, perhaps 
 most of all, the attractiveness of the youth, prompted 
 him to take a zealous interest in the youth, and in 
 everything that concerned him. He, however, dis- 
 played such clever tact and delicacy, that his attentions, 
 though marked, excited no remark ; besides every one 
 who came to know the bright boy felt the same kindly 
 interest. Mrs. Heron, the Duvals, the tragedian, all 
 took a practical interest in Jarl ; advising this, doing 
 that or the other, regarding his training and schooling. 
 The Signer's known taste and culture, more particularly 
 in musical matters, gave him extra license to bestow
 
 TAXCREDI. 381 
 
 his patronage on this handsome child of song. No one 
 was likely to suspect the Signer's secret. 
 
 It was fortunate for Tancredi, and perhaps for Jarl, 
 also, that John Taplan was in far away California. 
 
 It was impossible for Jarl, with his positive, passion- 
 ate and confiding nature, to resist the influence of the 
 kind partiality shown him by the fascinating Signer. 
 The two became deeply attached to each other, and 
 passed ranch of their time together, over their music, 
 studying the Italian language, or driving about the 
 city in the Tancredi carriage. 
 
 Over five years had passed under the able tutorship 
 of the actor and Tancredi, and it was more than six 
 years since Jack man had left the old mill. Jarl was 
 now twenty-one. He was possessed of such a wonder- 
 ful voice, and showed such decided love and fitness for 
 the stage, that his patrons determined that he should 
 complete his musical education under the best masters 
 and in the best schools of Europe. 
 
 Kate Jackman had hitherto suffered them to do 
 pretty much as they pleased with his foster child, but 
 he drew the line at the proposed European plan. He 
 looked on the new project as absurd nonsense, and he 
 said it was. He had grumbled at the new fangled 
 music (as he termed it) which the boy had practiced. 
 The simple old man loved better the old ballads which 
 Jarl was wont to sing in the meadows, and about the
 
 883 TANCREDI. 
 
 old mill ; such songs brought sweet memories to his 
 mind, and affectionate tears to his eyes. But tht new 
 songs were to him noise and nonsense, or as he called 
 them " tunes the old cow died on." 
 
 The boy's patrons argued so well, however, that 
 Nate's objections were narrowed down to one the 
 matter of cost. 
 
 " Where's the money to come from ? That's what 
 I want to know where's the money to come from ?" 
 
 " We'll provide for his education while abroad." 
 
 "But he can't go by himself, and I can't go along, 
 and Prudy, she's in Californy. Who'll take keer of 
 him among them f urriners ? and Prudy in Californy f" 
 
 " I'm a musician and a native of Italy, and intim- 
 ately acquainted with the schools and the best teachers 
 in the country," replied Tancredi. " I will undertake 
 to secure for him the best masters and the best care,-^- 
 I will go along with him, if you will trust him to my 
 keeping." 
 
 The old man was well nigh persuaded, but insisted 
 on conferring with Duval before making up his mind. 
 In a short time that gentleman's consent was obtained, 
 and it was agreed by Nate that Jarl, in company with 
 and under the care of Tancredi, should go to Europe to 
 finish his musical education. 
 
 Before they sailed, and for the first and only time, 
 Tancredi invited Jarl to pass the evening at hie home.
 
 TANCREDI. 333 
 
 The youpg man went and met there a young gentle- 
 man of about his own age. This pcrcon was slight in 
 figure, was not so tall as Jarl, and was darker skinned, 
 with remarkably black eyes. He wad always in motion, 
 and spoke rapidly though well. By his manner it was 
 evident that he felt proud of his station as the heir of 
 the noble Tancredi and the illustrious Bannemead. 
 He was, if not as distinguished looking as his father, 
 as proud as Madam Tancredi, whom he called mother. 
 
 This young man was known as Charles Tancredi ; 
 his real name was Carlo Godardo. 
 
 Tancredi and his t\vo youthful companions were 
 seated around a table in the library looking over a 
 collection of rare engravings, and intent on discussing 
 their merits. Jarl sat between the two, sat facing 
 the library door, and with the soft light of the table 
 lamp shining full on his handsome how handsome ! 
 young face. 
 
 A noiseless footfall on the velvety carpet, a silent, 
 proud woman it might have been a queen in the 
 doorway, from where she gazed on that beautiful 
 young face. No startled look or movement betokened 
 what may have flashed through her mind ; she only 
 stood like a statue with her cold eyes resting on the 
 unconscious Jarl. 
 
 " What dees this picture represent ?" asked Jarl, as 
 he raised his head to look into Tancredi's face.
 
 S84 TANCREDI. 
 
 " The mother and her child, Hager and Ishmael, 
 driven into the wilderness." 
 
 Jarl slowly arose to his feet as his gaze met that of 
 the apparition iu the doorway. 
 
 Thus met the mother and her child after the part- 
 ing of eighteen long bitter years. 
 
 Did the souls of these two beings go out to meet 
 each the other in joyful recognition ? Did their spir- 
 its, as did their bodies, meet face to face ? Did they 
 know each other there ? 
 
 Does the soul, when it reaches the immortal land, 
 realize that it once suffered in the flesh ? If not, then 
 is death practical annihilation. 
 
 If the souls of mother and son hailed each other as 
 kin, the brain was not taken into confidence. 
 
 Madam Tancredi came forward and gave Jarl her 
 queenly hand. Thus coldly they met, thus coldly 
 they parted for years and years. 
 
 Jarl, with Signor Tancredi, sailed for Italy.
 
 TANCREDI. 335 
 
 CHAPTEK XXXI. 
 
 "Xanihus. For if thou slayest me, thou wilt be thy father's 
 murderer. 
 
 " Ion. But how art thou my Father ? Is not this ridicu- 
 lous for me to listen to ? 
 
 " Xanthus. Not so ; a speedy explanation would tell you 
 how I am circumstanced. 
 
 " Ion. And wilt thou tell me ? 
 
 " Xanlhus. I am thy father and thou art my son." 
 
 EURIPIDES. 
 
 " SIGNOE, is it the sea voyage that makes you- so 
 quiet ?" asked Jarl, with a playful, bantering air, when 
 they had been a few days out on the sea. 
 
 " Yon give me small chance to show high spirits in 
 your presence, my yonng friend, for you are almost 
 constantly aloft or among the sailors," retorted Tan- 
 credi. 
 
 "But I leave you free to enjoy the ladies society. 
 They seem very fond of you, Signor." 
 
 " And you, my boy,. won't let them make fond of 
 you," answered Tancredi, blushing. " You are differ- 
 ent from me in that respect." 
 
 "Well, I think when you are in my company, you 
 ought to make up for lost time, and talk to me just a
 
 036 TANCREDI. 
 
 little bit ; but here we liave been sitting for an hour, 
 during which time you have scarcely spoken a word." 
 
 " Never fear ; I'll make up for lost time when we 
 reach Naples. Traveling always makes me stupid." 
 
 Silence again fell on the two companions. Jarl 
 evidently had something on his mind and was bent on 
 making his friend talk. 
 
 " Signer, you never told me of your home in 
 Italy." 
 
 " The story will be more eloquent when told there. 
 Then you will say that it is the most delightful place 
 in all the wide world. Ah me ! I fear you will never 
 consent to return to America." 
 
 " You left it for America ; why may not I ?" 
 
 " True ; I left it and so may you." 
 
 " Of your own free will did you leave Italy ?" 
 
 " Of my own free will, yes ; willingly, no." 
 
 " You left it unwillingly ; then why should you 
 feel sad on returning ?" 
 
 Tancredi made no reply. 
 
 " You do not answer me, Signor. Have I offend- 
 ed ? I meant it not." 
 
 " No, my gentle friend, you have not offended ; 
 you could not offend me, for I know you would not." 
 
 The youth again lapsed into silence, as though the 
 sombre spirit of his companion had cast its shadows 
 over his bouyant thoughts.
 
 
 TAN C RED I. 337 
 
 The sun was down, the day was dying, and the 
 horizon was disappearing under the fast falling mantle 
 of night. 
 
 " Jarl, I have something I wish to tell you ; some- 
 thing important and sacred," said Tancredi, in low 
 and solemn voice, after a long silence. " Will you 
 promise to hear what I have to say, patiently, through 
 to the end ?" 
 
 "I promise," replied Jarl, with a keen look of 
 inquiry and wonder depicted on his handsome face. 
 
 " It is a long story, Jarl ; therefore you must be 
 patient during its recital. It is a sad story, but do not 
 condemn until it is fully told. It is a true story, re- 
 serve your doubts until you try all the facts. The 
 story concerns me ; it relates to you." 
 
 The wondering look deepened on the earnest face. 
 
 " Go on ; I listen," he whispered. 
 
 " Jarl, look around you. Everything outside this 
 ship is waste and solitude. This vessel alone, at pre- 
 sent, constitutes our world, and it contains but one 
 being you can call your friend. I am that friend 
 your friend, not only here, but everywhere, wherever 
 you are, and whatever you do. I must ever and always 
 be your best friend." 
 
 Jarl arose and stood beside the Signer, and placed 
 his hand on his shoulder, a strange habit he had when 
 15
 
 8S3 TANCREDI. 
 
 pleased by those ho loved. The Signer held tho young 
 man's hand, and continued : 
 
 " Far away beyond that golden barrier of tho 
 twilight, where but now the suu went down in glory, 
 is the world from whence you came. Toward where 
 that sun shall rise again is the strange world that 
 awaits your coming. No kindred will greet you there, 
 as no kindred mourns your absence from your native 
 land." 
 
 " O Signer ! Talk not so bitterly ! You forget 
 my good old foster-father, who will grieve at my 
 absence, and rejoice at my return." 
 
 " I grant that, Jarl ; God bless old Nate for his 
 devotion to you ! But I spoke of kindred. The old 
 miller is not your father ; you have no kindred known 
 to you." 
 
 " Alas '. Signor, you speak true 1" 
 
 " Jarl, let me be your father ; let me call you my 
 son. I love you, Jarl, how well, you never can know. 
 Let me fill the place of father to you." 
 
 " How strange that you should ask this, since we 
 are already the best friends in the world !" 
 
 " But, Jarl, a father's place is holier than that of 
 friend." 
 
 " I don't think it will make much difference what 
 I call you, since you are not my real father, but I 
 shall try to love and obey you as if you were. Per-
 
 TANCREDI. 339 
 
 haps as ray father I would fear yon, and as son give 
 you only respect, where I should give love and obedi- 
 ence. But the story, Signer you are forgetting the 
 story you promised." 
 
 " You are assisting me tell the story." 
 
 " But the story we are telling is fictitious, and 
 made up as we go along ; besides it is not sad, but 
 jolly. Your story was to have been a sad one." 
 
 " Jarl, I know your real father." 
 
 " You know my real father !" exclaimed Jarl, with- 
 drawing his hand from Tancredi, and standing before 
 him. 
 
 " Yes, I know your father. Look on this pic- 
 ture." 
 
 "What, the picture the poor woman left with me 
 at the miller's cottage ! How came it in your posses- 
 sion ?" 
 
 " It has been in my possession for twenty -five 
 years. It is mine, honestly mine, and always has been. 
 It is not the picture left at the mill by the woman, 
 but it is the companion of that picture. Old Nate 
 Jackman still retains that picture in his possession ; 
 this belongs to me. Both pictures are the faithful 
 portraits of your father as he appeared a quarter of a 
 century ago." 
 
 " And what of him ? You know him ? Do you 
 know him ? Does he still live, and where ?"
 
 340 TANCREDI. 
 
 " I knew him when he was a child, a boy ; I know 
 him and was with him when he sat for that portrait. 
 lie still lives ; I know him as you also do ; he stands 
 before you ; I am your father." 
 
 " Yon, my father 1" 
 
 "I am your father." 
 
 The father stood holding out his arms toward his 
 son. 
 
 Jarl turned away and stood gazing out on the 
 placid summer sea glimmering in the phosphorescent 
 twilight. Tbe brightest stars began to shine out one 
 by one like rays of hope and beauty amidst the fast 
 gathering gloom of the night. 
 
 Jarl walked aft, as if instinctively turning back 
 home to his old foster-father, who was first in his 
 thoughts, and who filled the largest space in his grate- 
 ful heart. When he reached the stern of the vessel, 
 he stood and gazed at the evening star, and saw in its 
 beams the fantastic flames that blazed on the cottage 
 hearth on that eventful eve when first he resolved to 
 fly from his enemies. He felt again like fleeing 
 from what lie knew not. 
 
 A strange impression came over him, a strange 
 fancy siezed him ; it was not sorrow, or hate, or des- 
 pair, scarcely even despondency, but a feeling of 
 mingled regret and bereavement regret that he had 
 ever left the protection of his foster-father, and bereave-
 
 
 TANCREDI. 341 
 
 ment at the loss of his society. Somehow he vaguely 
 felt that this elegant Signor, who called him son, had 
 insidiously and cruelly come between him and the old 
 miller. He fancied that the Boheman life he had 
 hitherto led, and which was endeared to him by usage, 
 was slipping away, and its place filled with family, 
 ancestors, and all the accessories of conventional life. 
 His old life, if solitary, had been independent ; in it he 
 had no ancestors to honor, no kindred to copy, no 
 family to humor. 
 
 He was jealous of the ambition which lured him 
 from his humble station, suspicious of the Signor with 
 his blandishments and his patronage, and angry with 
 himself for having left his old benefactor. Though 
 weary miles of waves rolled between, yet the Old Mil- 
 ler seemed nearer and dearer than ever before 
 nearer and dearer a thousand times than the grand 
 Signor who claimed to be his father. 
 
 His meditations were interrupted by a light hand 
 on his shoulder ; turning round he faced Tancredi. 
 
 " Not now, my son, not now ; some other time. 
 "When we are come to our own beautiful home I shall 
 relate to you the wonderful story of your life." 
 
 " As it best pleases you, Signor." 
 
 " At present I ask but one favor do not speak of 
 what I have told you to any one." 
 
 " I have no one to tell. But since it is your request
 
 343 TA.NCREDI. 
 
 I shall not disappoint you,' r replied Jarl, coldly, almost 
 bitterly. 
 
 Tancredi's knowledge of human nature, and his 
 tact, served him well on the occasion. He realized 
 thoroughly the ordeal to which he had submitted his 
 son. His determination at first was to make no attempt 
 at revealing Charles Tancredi's history until after they 
 were happily established at his home in Naples ; and, 
 that there might be no sudden crash, his intention was 
 to slowly and guardedly enlighten the son, that there 
 might be no straining of the regard he had shown for 
 his father. Chance, or fate, had strangely led him to 
 anticipate the opening chapter of Charles' mysterious 
 nativity, but his observant eye had caught sight of the 
 imminent panic in the boy's mind, and his judgment 
 called a halt. 
 
 But the secret was exposed, although not fully re- 
 vealed, and was beyond recall. The story must be 
 completed sooner or later at all hazards ; if no one else, 
 Jarl would demand the whole story of his birth and 
 parentage. The Signer, therefore, followed his son to 
 where he stood brooding over the strange story, and 
 Bought to allay the storm brewing in his breast. 
 
 Jarl, the Miller's Boy, or, as he shall hereafter be 
 known, Charles Tancredi, settled down at Naples to 
 his studies in music. The story begun by his father 
 eeemed to exert a great influence over him, at least he
 
 TANCREDI. 343 
 
 exhibited a marked change in deportment, and from 
 the rolicking noisy boy he became quiet, observant and 
 moody. He sought to be alone when not in the con- 
 servatoire, and evidently shunned the Signer's com- 
 pany ; or if he spent an hour with his father he was 
 taciturn if not answering the simple yes or no to the 
 Signer's interrogatories. His perplexity was a real 
 anguish, which long continued discipline under trials 
 and persecutions alone enabled him to endure with 
 resignation. How often and often he longed for the 
 ignorance, the independence and the content of his 
 days under the guardianship of his dear old foster- 
 father ! 
 
 One night, at a late hour, Tancredi and Charles sat 
 alone in their beautiful home over-looking Naples. 
 The talk was on the education and the future of 
 Charles Tancredi. 
 
 "Charles, you have led me to believe that you are 
 inclined to go on the stage as a public actor." 
 
 " Yes, Signor." 
 
 " I trust that since you have learned who and what 
 you are, you will give up that ambition." 
 
 "What am I, Signor?" 
 
 " You are my son. Your relations in almost every 
 particular are materially altered from what they were, 
 and the sooner you recognize that faot the better for 
 you and me. Your family has claims on you which
 
 844 TANCREDI. 
 
 you cannot ignore. You are secure of great wealth 
 which makes a profession no longer necessary ; yon will, 
 as the head of the Tancredi house the oldest of the 
 noble houses of Italy be called upon to fill an exalted 
 station in nation and society, and a professional career 
 would be incompatible with that station. In addition 
 to the noble family of which you are the heir, your 
 mother belongs to a distinguished family, and is quite 
 wealthy in her own right." 
 
 "Signer, you speak of my mother; you will please 
 remember that I have not the pleasure of her ac- 
 quaintance." 
 
 " Not know your mother !" 
 
 "How should I? You are my father; you tell me 
 BO, and I believe you, but I could not have guessed 
 that you are my father. Neither can I guess who is 
 my mother, and you have not told me, hence I do not 
 know her, for it has not pleased you to complete the 
 story you began on shipboard." 
 
 " Why, Charles, who should be your mother but 
 my wife, Madam Alice Tancredi, the lady whom you 
 met at rny house in Philadelphia the evening before 
 we left America." 
 ^ " That lady my mother !" 
 
 "Yes; who else, pray?" 
 
 " No one else, I pray." 
 
 " Wherefore, then, your surprise ?"
 
 TANCREDI. 345 
 
 U O Signer, can yon ask? "What but surprise 
 meets me on every side? I am surprised that she did 
 not call me son ; surprised that you did not present me 
 to her as to my mother; surprised that I never met her 
 before nor since; surprised that she let me suffer all 
 these sorrowful years; surprised that you permitted 
 me to be an outcast without a single tie of blood to cling 
 to; and surprised that my mother coldly let me leave 
 her to come to this foreign land." 
 
 "Alas for me, my poor boy, how your words wring 
 my heart! Woe is me! Woe is me! for your true 
 words cut deeper than a knife." 
 
 " Perhaps, Signer, I should not feel as I do ; but I 
 cannot help feeling surprised at my new and strange 
 surroundings. I seem to walk in a dream I, who 
 never felt the claims of kindred, am suddenly intro- 
 duced to father and mother and family. Oh, it is a 
 surprise! I know it is must be, good news, since it 
 restores me to those endearments held desirable and 
 sacred ; but I have dreaded to hear about my mother 
 dreaded, oh dreaded it as the culprit dreads to hear 
 the sentence spoken by the judge. For the wrong I 
 have done you I beg your pardon." 
 
 " The wrong you have done me ! What wrong, 
 Charles?" 
 
 " In my mind I have wronged you, Signor. I have 
 also wronged the lady, your wife my mother."
 
 846 TANCREDI. 
 
 "Bat the wrong, wherein have you wronged your 
 mother or myself?" 
 
 "Some other woman might have been my mother, 
 some other woman who had no right to be my 
 mother." 
 
 " Forgive me, my poor boy, forgive me for my 
 cruelty, my cruel forgetfulness ! Great God, this 
 remorse grows keener every hour ! On my knees, I 
 crave your pardon ! O, Charles, my son !" 
 
 " Signor, listen to me. Of the causes which led to 
 the lot which has befallen me, I am ignorant. You 
 have not finished the story. You speak of remorse ; I 
 know not why you should feel guilt stricken. I can 
 only wait until I have heard the completion of the 
 story of my life. How came it that I was an outcast ? 
 Why did my family leave me to suffer all those bitter 
 years ? Why does no one but you know of my iden- 
 tity, and how came you to discover me ? Does my 
 mother know of me ? I am not even restored to my 
 family, only to you. Why? These questions must 
 be answered. I feel very bitter and vengeful. I 
 command you to finish the story." 
 
 Tancredi then began and told his son everything 
 and every circumstance connected with his own life. 
 The conscience stricken man could not have shown 
 more candor and truthfulness if he had been inside 
 the confessional purgating his sins in his dying hour.
 
 TANCREDI. 347 
 
 He told everything, and kept nothing back; even 
 where the story blackened with his own perfidy he 
 was the more open and explicit. When he concluded 
 by telling how he had palmed off the son of the 
 woman, Godardo, on his wife told how Carl Godardo 
 had usurped the place of Charles Tancredi, the young 
 man sprang from his chair like an enraged tiger and 
 dashed his father to the floor. 
 
 For a moment, the angered youth looked down on 
 the prostrate form, for a moment he caught the sight 
 of his father's piteous, terrorized face, and, uttering a 
 Avail like that of a man stricken with death, he fled 
 from the terrible temptation. 
 
 From that moment Tancredi never saw or heard 
 of his son. For months and months he sought him 
 in every corner of Europe ; his son was lost for the 
 second time, this time, forever. 
 
 Broken in health and spirits, and bowed under 
 remorse and despair the wretched man returned to his 
 home in Philadelphia. He was bound to give an 
 account of his stewardship to Nate Jackmaii. He lied 
 to and deceived the old man. 
 
 His evil deeds and their woeful consequences 
 swarmed like a troop of noisy demons to shake his pil- 
 low with unrest. Keen despair worked a dagger in 
 his heart, scorching memory burnt into his brain, and 
 his form, once so proud and stately, and the step once
 
 348 TAXCREDI. 
 
 so kingly, were bent and halting now. He grew 
 maudlin in his talk, childish in his behavior, treaded 
 being left alone, and followed his wife about the house 
 like a tottering babe. He gradually lost the use of 
 his legs, and, unable to walk, sat all day muttering to 
 himself, or weeping without apparent cause. 
 
 " I have something on my mind that troubles me," 
 he said to his wife one day while seated in his easy- 
 chair. 
 
 " Ought I to know what your trouble is ?" she 
 asked, kindly. 
 
 " My trouble ? yes. You must know my trouble 
 yes, my trouble. It concerns you more than any one. 
 I have heard news of the Godardo." 
 
 " Ah, indeed ? And how can news of her possibly 
 concern me, unless it is to hear of her repentance ?" 
 
 "She is dead. She has been dead for twenty 
 years." 
 
 " I hope she is better occupied where she now is." 
 
 " She left a message for you." 
 
 "A message for me? What message could she 
 leave me ?" 
 
 " Concerning your son our son." 
 
 " With whom did she leave this message ?" 
 
 " With the family at whose house she died." 
 
 " Who, and where is this family, and what is the 
 message ?"
 
 TANCREDI. 349 
 
 " An old miller, culled Nate Jackman, who lived 
 ii\ Western Pennsylvania, near Pittsburgh, and at 
 whose house she died, now lives in this city ; he has 
 her dying message, and can give it better than you can 
 receive it second-hand." 
 
 "I am not interested in any message she could 
 leave. She stole my child ; it was not her fault that 
 I recovered him. I have my son, and want nothing of 
 her living or dead." 
 
 " I think you should, as a duty to your son, visit 
 the miller. I think you will be surprised at what he 
 will tell you. He has in his keeping a few articles 
 which the dead woman left, and which articles I have 
 seen, and by them identified her." 
 
 " What are those articles ?" 
 
 " Among them a locket worn by our son when he 
 was stolen, and which contains your portrait and 
 mine." 
 
 " I have often wondered what became of that 
 locket. I supposed that you took it away with you 
 when you carried Charles to Italy." 
 
 "I think the miller would give you that locket. 
 Here is the directions by which he may be found. 
 Go, and hasten back, for I dread being left alone. I 
 feel I shall not trouble you long. I trust it won't be 
 for long."
 
 850 TANCREDI. 
 
 " Since you are so anxious, I shall visit Mr. Jack- 
 mail." 
 
 Madam found the old man at Mrs. Heron's. 
 
 "Mr. Jackman," said Madam Alice, " my husband 
 tells me that a woman called Rosetta Godardo died at 
 your house twenty years ago." 
 
 " Yes, ma'am, a woman died at my house twenty 
 years come next November, but she wouldn't tell her 
 name." 
 
 " My husband also tells me that she left a message 
 for me." 
 
 " No, ma'am, she didn't she didn't leave a mes- 
 sage for nobody." 
 
 "Are you sure ?" 
 
 " Sure ? Yes ; she only left some things and 
 Jarl." 
 
 "Jarl? What is a Jarl ?" 
 
 " Why, the boy she left with me when she died." 
 
 " The boy ! What boy '! 
 
 " The boy why Jarl three years old she brung 
 with her, and some picters ; here's the picters." 
 
 He showed her the portraits already described, 
 which she recognized. Attached to the locket by a 
 slender chain was a tiny gold charm, marked with the 
 letters A. B., her maiden initials. She had sat by and 
 watched the goldsmith fasten this small jewel to the 
 locket, and, with her own hands, she had placed it
 
 TANCREDI. 301 
 
 around baby's neck on the first anniversary of his 
 birthday. 
 
 "Here's a silk hankercher, it belonged to Jarl, 
 too." 
 
 He showed her a handkerchief marked with the 
 monogram, C. T., which she had embroidered with 
 her own hands. 
 
 " Whose child was it ?" 
 
 " She said it wasn't hern." 
 
 " Bat whose child do you think it was ?" 
 
 " Strayed or stolen ! That's what I've been a 
 tryin' to find out for twenty years, yes, for well nigh 
 twenty years. Maybe you know, ma'am." 
 
 " What became of the child you call Jarl ?" 
 
 " I took him and raised him like one of my own. 
 He lived with me till a year ago, when Mr. Tancredi 
 took him away to Itlee, to school, Oh, he's the bra- 
 vest, and handsomest boy you ever saw ! Why, you 
 did see him, for he told me so, himself he told me 
 he saw you at your house the night before he went 
 away to Itlee. But he didn't say nothin' about you 
 bein' his mother. Ax your husband, he knows where 
 Jarl is, for he likes Jarl everybody likes Jarl." 
 
 Madam Tancredi turned deadly pale, and fell on the 
 floor in a swoon. Jackman revived her by dashing 
 water more than needed in her face.
 
 852 TANOREDI. 
 
 " Is that all you can tell me ?" she asked, after 
 recovering consciousness. 
 
 "That's all. I'm sure the crazy woman didn't 
 leave no message for you nor nobody." 
 
 " Will you trust these things in my keeping?" 
 
 " What'll you do with 'em ? I've kept them to try 
 to find Jarl's kinfolks." 
 
 " I think this boy that Jarl was O, Mr. Jackman ! 
 Do you think that this child was my son ? I had a 
 child stolen from me twenty years ago. He was stolen 
 by the woman who died at your house. He wore this 
 locket around his little neck ; this was his handker- 
 chief see, I stitched these very letters with my own 
 hand ! O, what if Jarl is my own lost son !" 
 
 " Yes, Ma'am, yes, certainly ; if you air his mother 
 take 'em, in welcome ; take 'em home with you. 
 That's what they're for, to find Jarl's mother. But 
 mind this you can't like Jarl as well as I do mind 
 you, not as well as I do." 
 
 She took the relics and went home, where she had 
 a painful and horrible meeting with her husband. 
 
 " Well, Signor, I got the message from the old 
 miller, and I ask you in God's name to interpret its 
 meaning." 
 
 " Your son was stolen by the Godardo. He is the 
 youth who passed the evening in this house before I
 
 TANOREDI. 853 
 
 took him to Italy. I am as thoroughly convinced of 
 his identity as I am of yours." 
 
 " But, the youth we call our son, who is he ?" 
 
 " He is not your son." 
 
 "My God, can such things be ! Then in Heaven's 
 name, whose child is he ?" 
 
 " He is the son of Rosetta Godardo." 
 
 " Who is his father ?" 
 
 " Alas, Madam, 1 am his father." 
 
 " May God have mercy on your soul !" 
 
 " Amen ! When I went to Italy at the time of our 
 quarrel and separation I stole the Godardo's child, and 
 carried him home with me to Naples." 
 
 " And, in revenge, that mother stole my child." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And you knowingly and wilfully palmed off her 
 child on me as my own ?" 
 
 "Now, you know all. I could suffer the pangs of 
 concealment no longer. It was killing me by inches. 
 Forgive me, or kill me !" 
 
 " Forgive you ! You, the fiend ! The child stealer, 
 the traitor, the murderer ! God has cursed our union, 
 he may forgive you, I cannot. Begone from this 
 home that you have twice desecrated and desolated! 
 Begone, and take with you your son whom you have 
 fraudulently taught me to love !" 
 
 " Mercy ! Mercy !" cried the stricken wretch, as
 
 354 TANGREDL 
 
 he trembling arose, with the palor of death on his 
 withered face. He convulsively reached out his bands 
 to her and fell forward a corpse. 
 
 Too late ; he never moved. Too late ; he never 
 breathed again. Too late for earthly retribution ; 
 Signer Michele Tancredi was dead. 
 
 Tancrecli's will provided for the young man, Carlo 
 Godardo, who amazed and broken-hearted, went sadly 
 away with his father's dead body to Italy, where he 
 was cared for by the Tancredi family. Madam Tan- 
 credi would not see him, she even refused his touching 
 message of farewell. The unhappy Madam Alice sent 
 a messenger to Europe to hunt up her son and bring 
 him home. She only learned that he had mysteriously 
 disappeared from Naples, and was never heard of since. 
 It was renewing and continuing the detective work 
 left off twenty years agone. JSTo trace was had of the 
 boy, lost the second time.
 
 TANCREDI. 355 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 ' He left a name at which the world grew pale, 
 To point a moral, or adorn a tale." 
 
 A KEMARKABLE phenomenon in the music and 
 dramatic world rocked European society to its depths 
 a year or so after the death of Signer Tancredi. 
 Tongue and pen were busy with praising a new tenor, 
 who at one bound, leaped from total obscurity into un- 
 precedented public favor. His fame was still further 
 heightened because of the mystery which surrounded 
 him. No one knew him, whence he came, or who was 
 his teacher. One day a proud and handsome stranger 
 presented himself before the faculty of the conserva- 
 toire in Milan as a contestant for singing in a prize 
 trial, which was appointed for the selection of a tenor 
 for the grand opera house at St. Petersburg. One 
 song from the stranger finished the contest he was 
 appointed to the place. He seemed to have arisen out 
 of the earth, and from that hour filled the opera sky 
 like a blazing comet, at whose light all stars paled. 
 The unknown tenor, as he was called, had the world 
 at his feet.
 
 356 TANCREDI. 
 
 The echo of his fame and glory, like a wide-spread- 
 ing perfume, reached the western world, and America 
 was on the tip-toe of expectation, for the renowned 
 singer was announced for a brief season in the United 
 States. 
 
 In New York, where he first appeared, his success 
 was so marvelous, that week after week his engagement 
 was extended, to the no small chagrin of other cities. 
 The audiences went wild over his beauty, his acting, 
 and, more than all the rest, his wonderful voice and 
 singing. His receptions every night were not appro- 
 val and applause, they were ovations. 
 
 At last he was billed to appear in Philadelphia. 
 On the opening night there sat in the packed theatre 
 four of our old acquaintances, Mrs. Heron, Mr. and 
 Mrs. Duval, and their daughter, Miss Charlotte, now 
 grown into a lovely woman. 
 
 The opera of the evening was Maritana. When 
 the ragged and rolicking Don Caesar De Bazan ren- 
 dered the Cavatina, "Let me like a soldier fall," the 
 applause which followed was never equalled in a Quaker 
 city audience. The encore was almost as noisy. 
 
 The tribute of Charlotte Duval was tears. Again 
 lie sang the last stanza of that stirring arietta, while 
 Charlotte followed her libretto with the English 
 words.
 
 TANCKEDI. ^ 357 
 
 "I only ask of that proud race 
 That ends its blaze in me, 
 To die the last, and not disgrace 
 Its ancient chivalry. 
 
 Tho 1 o'er ray bier no banners wave, 
 
 No martial requiem swell ; 
 Enough they murmur at my grave 
 
 He like a soldier fell ! 
 
 When the song was concluded, Charlotte was sobb- 
 ing. What at? Her memory wandered back to the 
 woods and meadows about the old mill when Jarl sang 
 by her side and made the welkin ring with his glad, 
 bird-like voice. She thought of Jarl and the gala days 
 of childhood, and wept. There was an echo in the 
 voice of the Don Caesar of the stage that stirred heart- 
 fond memories of the sweet golden clays of childhood ; 
 that was the cause of her tears. 
 
 When the tenor next came on the stage in the gor- 
 geous costume of the bridegroom, Charlotte Duval 
 gave a startled cry : " My God 1 It is Jarl ! O 
 father, it is Jarl !" 
 
 The whole audience heard, and all eyes were turned 
 toward the excited girl. Her speech was meaningless 
 to that audience. The tenor heard that cry, and he 
 understood those words and what they meant. He 
 stood in dumb astonishment until the frenzied maestro 
 wanded him back to his cue. Charlotte heard no more, 
 but saw only the tenor on the stage.
 
 358 TANCREDI. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Duval saw it and identified it, as did 
 Mrs. Heron, for had she not made it with her own 
 hands ? tlje Scarlet Scarf with a white heart and 
 anchor worked in white embroidery in either end. 
 That scarf was worn by the Don Caesar of the opera. 
 
 The next morning early an old man with snowy hair 
 and rosy face stood waiting and watching before the 
 theatre entrance. When the doors opened for rehear- 
 sal the old fellow pushed past the green door opening 
 into the auditorium. An officer seized him and rudely 
 attempted to thrust him out, but fell sprawling before 
 he knew what struck him. 
 
 " I want my boy ! I want Jarl ! and no one can 
 put me out till I find him. Jarl, I say Jarl !" cried 
 the old miller at the top of his voice. 
 
 Other attaches of the place came to the rescue, and, 
 although they pinioned the old hero to the floor, they 
 could not throttle his voice. 
 
 " I want Jarl ! Hello, Jarl ! It's meit's Nate, 
 the old miller ! Hello, Jarl, I say !" 
 
 A man leaped from the stage, sprang across the 
 chairs, and in a second the custodians of Nate went 
 flying hither and thither. 
 
 " Here I am, father ! Here's your boy ! I'm 
 Jarl !" 
 
 Two men, one old and gray, the other young 
 and proud, were in each other's arms.
 
 TANCREDI. 359 
 
 " God bless yon, my boy ! God bless yon, Jarl ! 
 I know'd you'd come back to me ! You won't leave 
 me any more, will you, Jarl ? God bless my poor 
 boy !" 
 
 " No, my good, dear old father ; we shall never 
 part again ? I am come back to you you that I love 
 best in all this wide world ?" 
 
 Jarl and Nate! They make one prouder of his 
 race. 
 
 "Come; let's git out of hear! This place haint 
 big enough to hold us. Come home, Jarl, come 
 home !" 
 
 The people along the streets turned and watched 
 and followed the beautiful old man leading home his 
 boy, for the two grand men held each other by the 
 hand. They talked and they laughed and they cried, 
 and tears so dimmed their eyes that they no more saw 
 their fellow mortals around them than they did the 
 dancing angels that strewed their pathway with ethereal 
 roses. Oh, it was a spectacle more grand and glorious 
 than all the flushing triumphs won by the young tenor 
 on the stage, grand and glorious as were those 
 triumphs. 
 
 Jarl and Nate ! They reveal the full meaning of 
 the words Honor, Friendship, Gratitude. 
 
 Charles Tancredi went home with Nate Jackman ; 
 that visit, to him, was as unavoidable as was Gilpin's
 
 SCO TANCREDI. 
 
 ride, Nate would have carried him had he refused to 
 walk. But there was no trouble on that score ; the 
 young man was glad and willing to go home. 
 
 Arrived there he was the miller's boy, Mrs. 
 Heron's clerk, Mrs. Duval's prince, Mr. Duval's 
 nature's nobleman, and Charlotte's what was he to 
 Charlotte Duval? What he ever had been her ideal, 
 her hero, her angel, and her lover, winch last rounds 
 the top of a maiden's climax. 
 
 On the following day Nate Jackman rang the door 
 bell of the Tancredi mansion on Walnut street, and 
 presently was admitted into the presence of Madam 
 Alice. 
 
 "I come to tell you Jarl is found." 
 
 " You mean Charles, my son, do you not ? Good 
 news, O, good news ! Where is he ?" 
 
 "Here, in Philadelphia." 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Jackman ! bring him to me. When will 
 you bring him to me ? Is he in this house ? Will 
 you bring him this minute, to-day this night ?" 
 
 " No ; I guess not to-night bekase, you see, he is a 
 singin' in the opery to-night, and can't git off. You 
 mus-t know he's the great tinner everybody is a 
 braggin' about." 
 
 "What, the great tenor? the unknown tenor, my 
 son ? But I care not for that so he proves to be my
 
 TANCREDI. 861 
 
 son. I'm his mother starving to see him before I 
 die." 
 
 "Well, why don't you go and fetch him home, like 
 I did? You've been waitin' for him a good while." 
 
 "I'll send you to bring him; you can bring him if 
 any one can. I wouldn't know him if I saw him. 
 You'll bring him to his mother, won't you, Mr. 
 Jackman ?" 
 
 She rang the bell and ordered the carriage to be 
 brought to the door for Nate. 
 
 " He mightn't come for me, Ma'am ; just put your 
 hand to a short letter, sayin' as how you air well, and 
 hopes these few lines may find him enjoyin' the same 
 God's blessin', an' so fort. You see I want to curry it 
 along for fear he won't come for my say, don't you 
 see?" 
 
 She wrote and sent by Nate the following ; 
 
 CHARLES TANCREDI. 
 My darling Son : 
 
 Forgive your mother for not writing to you 
 sooner. She would have invited you home on a visit 
 twenty years and more ago, but she lost your address. 
 She might have found your address long ago, but she 
 did not try, for she was deluded into loving a spurious 
 son. And now that she has found you, she claims 
 16
 
 63 TANCIIEDI. 
 
 you all for herself, Come home, my darling, come 
 home to your waiting Mother 
 
 ALICE TANCREDI. 
 
 Nate returned without the son, but with a note 
 which read : 
 
 Dearest Mother : A few more hours cannot 
 seriously add to the long, bitter years of our separa- 
 tion and bereavement. I shall visit you at 3 P.M. 
 Your son, 
 
 C. TANCKEDI. 
 
 She was disappointed and distressed at his delay, 
 but long experience in both, had tempered her heart 
 to endurance. To while away the time, she got out 
 the relics restored to her by Nate Jaekman, and was 
 engaged in a mother's homage to her secret gods, 
 when she felt a footfall on the carpet. Before she 
 could see who it was, a man's figure knelt at her feet, 
 a curly head bowed itself in her lap, and a musical 
 voice uttered the single word, " Mother !" 
 
 " Charles, my darling son 1" 
 
 At last the dark waters lit up with a mother's love. 
 After years of exile and yearning, the lost child was 
 restored to that being most worthy of man's homage, 
 a good mother.
 
 TANCREDI. 863 
 
 Cliarlus Tancrcdi and Chnrlotte Daval were mar- 
 ried. They passed a week of the honeymoon at the 
 Duval mansion, near the old mill. The Rellims, and 
 Liftals, arid Bowlers, and Tobbys gazed with guilty 
 and mortified awe on the great hero as he passed them 
 unnoticed by ; his high lineage and his celebrity had 
 penetrated even their asinine ears. 
 
 What more need be said? Only this Jarl and 
 Nate ! They are worthy of imitation.
 
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 A VALUABLE NEW BOOK 
 
 That should be on every Scholar's Table. 
 CARLETON'S HAND-BOOK 
 
 POPULAR QUOTATION a 
 
 A book of Ready Reference for such phrases, extracts 
 and Familiar Quotations from popular authors, as are 
 oftenest met with in general literature ; together with 
 their authorship and position in the original. Embracing, 
 also, the best list of quotations from foreign languages 
 ever published. Elegantly printed and Lound. Price,$i-5o. 
 
 If you want to find any Familiar Quotation, appropriate to any 
 particular Subject or Sentiment this book will give it to you. 
 
 If you want to know who is the author, and -where any particular 
 Familiar Quotation comes from this book will tell you. 
 
 If you remember part of a Familiar Quotation and want to know 
 >he whole of it, and know it exactly this book will tell you 
 
 Tf you want to know the exact meaning and correctness of any 
 I>atin, French or Familiar Quotation, in any Foreign language 
 this book will tell you. 
 
 If you simply want a delightful book to have lying upon your 
 table, convenient to pick up and entertain you with charming and 
 Familiar thoughts and Quotations of all authors this is the book 
 that will exactly suit you. * * * There's none more fascinating 
 to the English language. 
 
 *^* The demand for this remarkable work is enormous. The 
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 the price, $1.50, by 
 
 GK W, DILLINGHAM, Publisher, 
 
 Successor to 6. W. CARLETON & CO., 
 
 33 W, 23d St., NEW YORK.
 
 MRS. MARY J. HOLMES' WORKS. 
 
 TEMPEST AND SUNSHINE. 
 ENGLISH ORPHANS. 
 HOMESTEAD ON HILLSIDE. 
 'LENA RIVERS. 
 MEADOW BROOK. 
 DORA DEANE. 
 COUSIN MAUDE. 
 MARIAN GREY. 
 EDITH LYLE. 
 DAISY THORNTON. 
 CHATEAU D'OR. 
 QUEENIE HETHERTON. 
 BESSIE'S FORTUNE. 
 
 DARKNESS AND DAYLIGHT. 
 
 HUGH WORTHINGTON. 
 
 CAMERON PRIDE. 
 
 ROSE MATHER. 
 
 ETHELYN'S MISTAKE. 
 
 MILLBANK. 
 
 EDNA BROWNING. 
 
 WEST LAWN. 
 
 MILDRED. 
 
 FOREST HOUSE. 
 
 MADELINE. 
 
 CHRISTMAS STORIES. 
 
 GRETCHEN. (New.) 
 
 OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 
 
 " Mrs. Holmes' stories are universally read. Her admirers are numberless. 
 She is in many respects without a rival in the world of fiction. Her characters are 
 always life-like, and she makes them talk and act like human beings, subject 
 to the same emotions, swayed by the same passions, and actuated by the same 
 motives which are common among men and women of every-day existence. Mrs. 
 Holmes is very happy in portraying domestic life. Old and young peruse her 
 stories with great delight, for she writes in a style that all can comprehend." 
 Nem York Weekly. 
 
 The North American Review, vol. 81, page 557, says of Mrs. Mary J. 
 Holmes' novel "English Orphans": "With this novel of Mrs. Holmes' we 
 have been charmed, arid so have a pretty numerous circle of discriminating readers 
 to whom we have lent it. The characterization is exquisite, especially so far as 
 concerns rural and village life, of which there are some pictures that deserve to 
 be hung up in perpetual memory of types of humanity fast becoming extinct. 
 The dialogues are generally brief, pointed, and appropriate. The plot seems 
 simple, so easily and naturally is it developed and consummated. Moreover, the 
 story thus gracefully constructed and written, inculcates without obtruding, not 
 only pure Christian morality in general, but, with especial point and power, the 
 dependence of true success on character, and of true respectability on merit." 
 
 "Mrs. Holmes' stories are all of a domestic character, and their interest, 
 therefore, is not so intense as if they were more highly seasoned with sensation- 
 alism, but it is of a healthy and abiding character. The interest in her tales 
 begins at once, and is maintained to the close. Her sentiments are so sound, her 
 sympathies so warm and ready, and her knowledge of manners, character, and 
 the varied incidents of ordinary life is so thorough, that she would find it diffi- 
 cult to write any other than an excellent tale if she were to try it." Boston 
 
 her 
 
 nc volumes are all handsomely printed and bound in cloth, sold every 
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 G. W. DILLINGHAM, Publisher, 
 
 Successor to 6. W. CARLETON & CO., 
 
 33 W. 23d St., NEW YORK.
 
 CHARLES DICKENS' WORKS. 
 
 A NEW ftQE EDITION. 
 
 Among the many editions of the works of th.s greatest of 
 English Novelists, there has not been until now one that entirely 
 la'dsftes the public demand. Without exception, they each have 
 some strong distinctive objection, either the form and dimen 
 sions of the volumes are unhandy or, the type is small and 
 indistinct or, the illustrations are unsatisfactory or, the bind, 
 ing is poor or, the price is too high. 
 
 An entirely new edition is now, however, published by G. W. 
 Carieton & Co., of New York, which, in every respect, com- 
 pletely satisfies the popular demand. It is known as 
 
 "Carleton's New yiustratcd Edition." 
 
 COMPIETE IN 15 VOLUMES. 
 
 The size and form is most convenient for holding, the type is 
 tatirely new, and of a clear and open character that has received 
 the approval of the reading community in other works. 
 
 The illustrations are by the original artists chosen by Charles 
 Dickens himself and the paper, printing, and binding are of an 
 attractive and substantial character. 
 
 This beautiful new edition is complete in 15 volumes at the 
 extrsmely leasonable price of $1.50 per volume, as follows : 
 
 I. PICKWICK PAPERS AND CATALOGUE. 
 
 2. OLIVER TWIST. UNCOMMERCIAL TRAVELLER. 
 
 3.- DAVID COFPERFIELD. 
 
 4. GREAT EXPECTATIONS. ITALY AND AMERICA 
 
 5. DOMBEY AND SON. 
 
 6. BARNABY RUDGE AND EDWIN DROOD. 
 
 7. NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 
 
 8. CURIOSITY SHOP AND MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 9. BLEAK HOUSE. 
 10. LITTLE OORIUT. 
 II. MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 13. OUR MUTUAL FRIEND. 
 13. CHRISTMAS BOOKS. TALE OF TWO CITIES. 
 14. SKETCHES BY BOZ AND HARD TIMES. 
 15. CHILD'S ENGLAND AND MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 The first volume Pickwick Papers contains an alphabetical 
 catalogue of all c* Charles Dickens' writings, with their exajCt 
 positions in the volumes. 
 
 This edition is sold by Booksellers, everywhere and single 
 specimen copies will be forwarded by mail , postage Jree, on re 
 caipt cf price. $1.50, by 
 
 G. W. DILLIKOHAM, Publisher, 
 
 Successor io G. W. CAHLETON & CO., 
 
 33 W. 23d St., NEW YORK,
 
 THREE VALUABLE BOOKS.! 
 
 I. The Art of Conversation, 
 
 ffttii ISrectlona for Self-Cutture. An admirably conceived and enlertainins 
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 good talker or listener, or who wishes to a ppear tc advantage in good society. Every ycucs 
 nd eron old person should read it, study ft over and over again, and follow thoae birte ia 
 t m lloh lead them to break up bad habits and cultivate good ones. ** Price, fl. 
 .'unoaa the contents will be found chapters upon 
 
 Az/KtczoN IN CONVERSATION. SATIRE. SELFISHNESS. AS&PME^T. SACBineBa.- 
 Poa.- -SARCASM. TEASING. CENSURE. SILENT PEOPLE. DINNEB Cos VSBSATICK. 
 JABL* FINDING. EOOTISM. POLITENESS. TIMIDITY AND tra CUBE. MoraaTY.- 
 COMPLIMENTS. STORIES. ANECDOTES. CORRECT LANGUAGE. SELF-INSTETJOTIOH. 
 QimtTiosriNO. LIBERTIES. -IMFUDF.NOE. MISCELLANEOUS KKOWLEDQB. LAJJ 
 STARING. DISAGREEABLE SUBJECTS. GUAGES. GENERAL HINTS TO ALL. 
 
 SI. The Habits of Good Society, 
 
 A Hand-book for Ladies and Gentlemen. With thougtts, hints, ana anecdotes concern- 
 ing social observances, nice points of taste and good manners, and the art of making one- 
 self agmeabU. The whole intcrswrsod with humoroua illustrations 01 social predicn- 
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 GEJTFLEMZN'S PREFACE. 
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 THB DRESSING ROOM. 
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 Do Do GENTLBMEN. 
 
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 III. Arts of Writing, Reading, and 
 
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 whether professionally or socially, it is a book that they cannot -Uspense with. Price, 
 $1. Among the contents will be found chapters npon 
 
 OJUWJG AND THINKING. LANGUAGE. WHAT NOT xo SAY. How ro BEarw. 
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 TVstwious KEADINOS. THE BIBLE. PIT. COMPOSITION. THE BAB.- 
 PSATTfiS. DRAMATIC READINGS. OHA- or WIT AND HUMOR. THE 
 
 tncrtg are the most perfect of their kind ever publisiied ; fresh, ?;*<< 
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 onscd paper, and handsomely bound in a box. Price, $3.01'. 
 
 ** TO&K bocks ar* baantifnlly printed, bound and sent by mail, pottege frit.. 69 
 
 SfllPri "' Q W. CAELETON St CO., Publishers, 17ew Tork.
 
 
 
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