naturedly solicitous for my satisfaction. This tone did. "Why do you speak of the gods, Faust? Even to not change either in the presence of her father or of the one's-self, one can give or take nothing." Prince. She continued it with an ingenuousness and sincerity, as if it ought not to be otherwise.

"One's-self?" replied I, with an uncertain voice. "You know that you have made me your own pro

"I do not myself know how it is!" she answered, and her eyes sank down.

"But I, dear Countess; I know it. The enchantment which ruled over us is not lost, but has only changed its direction. Formerly in your transfigurations I governed your will, now you govern mine. In your presence only do I live. I can do nothing—I am nothing without you.

Some delightful days passed by in fetes and joy. Hor-perty?" tensia's manners towards me did not change. I, myself, ever wavering between the cold laws of respect and the flames of passion, found once more in Hortensia's conversation an inward repose and independence which I had been deprived of since my acquaintance with this prodigy. Her sincerity and truth made me more calm and contented; her confidence, as it were, more fraternal. She did not at all conceal a heart full of the purest | If my confession, a crime before the world, but not befriendship for me-still less did I conceal my feelings, though at the same time I did not venture to betray their depth. Yet who could long behold so many charms, and resist their influence?

fore God, vexes you, I am not the cause, since it is at your own command that I have acted. Can I dissemble before you? If it is a crime that my soul has involuntarily become chained to your being, it is not my of fence."

She turned away her face, and raised her hand to de

raised mine, in order to cover my eyes, which were dimmed in tears. The upraised hands sank down clasped together. We were silent; thought was lost in powerful feelings. I had betrayed my passion-but Hortensia had pardoned me.

Cecilia disturbed us. We went silently back to the castle. As we separated, the Countess said, lowly and sadly, "Through you I have obtained health, only to suffer more."

It was the custom for the visitors of the baths at Battaglia, on fine evenings, to sit assembled before a large coffee house, enjoying the air and refreshments. An un-note that I should be silent. I had at the same moment constrained conversation reigned there. They sat upon chairs in the open street, and in a half circle. To the right and left were heard the sounds of guitars, mandolines and singing, after the Italian mode. In the great houses, also, music sounded, and windows and doors were lighted. One evening, the Prince having left us earlier than usual, the Countess took a whim to visit this assemblage of the visitors of the place. I was already in my room, and sat holding the bouquet in both hands, dreaming over my destiny. The light burnt dimly, and my room door stood half open. Hortensia and Cecilia saw me as they passed. They watched me for some time, and then came softly in. I did not observe them till they stood close beside me, and declared that I must accompany them to the town. They now amused themselves with jests at my surprise. Hortensia recog-her-she scarcely to answer me. In our looks, full of nised the bouquet. She took it from the table where I had thrown it, and, withered as it was, stuck it in her bosom. We went down to Battaglia and mingled with the company.

It happened that Cecilia, in conversation with some persons of her acquaintance, separated from us, which neither Hortensia or myself regretted. On my arm, she wandered up and down through the moving crowd, till she was fatigued. We seated ourselves on a little bench under an elm which grew on one side. The moon shone through the branches upon Hortensia's beautiful face, and upon the withered flowers in her bosom.

"Will you again rob me of what you have given me?" asked I, as I pointed to the bouquet.

She looked at me long, with a strange, thoughtful seriousness, and then replied, "It always appears to me as if I could give you nothing, and could take nothing from you. Is it not sometimes the same with you?"

This answer and question, so lightly and quietly thrown out, placed me in embarrassment and silence. From respect I scarcely dared to dwell on the kind meaning. She once more repeated the question.

"Alas! it is often so with me!" said I. "When I see the abyss between you and myself, and the distance which holds me far from you, then is it so with me. Who can give or take from the gods, that which does not always belong to them?"

PETRARCH'S DWELLING.

When we met the next day, there was a kind of sacred timidity between us. I scarcely ventured to address

seriousness we often met. She appeared to wish to look through me. I sought to read in her eyes whether in her calmer moments she were offended at my boldness of yesterday. Many days passed without our again seeing each other alone. We had a secret between us, and feared to profane it by a look. Hortensia's whole manner was more solemn-her gaiety more moderate—as if she did not enter with her whole heart into the customary routine of life.

Nevertheless, I counted too much on her changed manner, after that decisive hour under the elm. Prince Charles had, as I afterwards learnt, formally solicited the hand of the Countess, which had caused an unpleasing and constrained state between herself, her father and the Prince. In order to gain time, and not to offend them, Hortensia had entreated for time for reflection, and truly for such an unlimited period, and under such hard conditions, that Charles must almost despair ever to see his wishes crowned.

"Not that I have any aversion to the Prince," as she expressed her explanation, "but I wish still to enjoy my freedom. I will, at a future day, of myself and voluntarily, give my yes or no. But if the offer is repeated before I desire it, then I am determined to reject him, even though I may truly love him."

The Count knew of old the inflexible disposition of his daughter; though from that reason he hoped the

She opened her eyes and looked at me with astonish-best, since Hortensia had not directly refused the atten

ment.

tions of the Prince. Charles, on the contrary, was

The sight of such relics always have a peculiar influence on the mind. It annihilates the interval of centuries and brings the distant past prominently before the imagination. To me, it was as if the poet had only gone out, and that he would presently open the little brown door of his chamber and greet us. Hor-chair-seeing which I sprang up, and she sank sobbing tensia found an elegant edition of Petrarch's sonnets on a table in a corner. Wearied, she seated herself there, rested her beautiful head upon her hand, and read attentively, whilst the fingers of her supporting hand concealed her eyes. Beatrice and Cecilia went to prepare refreshments for the Countess. I remained silently at:

me, and with a countenance, on which, as formerly, the | me for the future a life free from care, and which, as he color of transfiguration glimmered, said, "Faust, what expressed it, was only a payment on account of a debt are you doing?" for life. I would not refuse a moderate sum for travel

"Will you not forget me in my absence ?" asked I, ling expenses, in order to reach Germany-in fact I in return. was almost without money-but my pride refused to take more.

"Can I?" sighed she, and threw down her eyes. "Farewell, Hortensia !" stammered I, and my cheek rested on her's.

I packed up, as soon as I returned to my room. Sebald hurried out to prepare the horses and arrange

while I wrote to Hortensia. I cannot describe what I suffered-how I struggled with myself-how often I sprang up from writing to relieve my pains with tears. My life until now had been one full of care and unhappiness-and the dim future to me presented nothing more soothing to the soul. Death, thought I, is sweeter and easier than thus to outlive hope.

I destroyed many times what I had written, and had not finished, when I was disturbed in a manner that I least expected.

"Emanuel! Emanuel!" whispered she. Our lips | every thing for departing at the moment. In the meanmet. I felt tenderly and gently her reciprocal kiss, whilst one of her arms rested around my neck. Minutes, quarters of hours passed. At length, together and in silence, we left the dwelling of Petrarch, and proceeded in the path down the hill, where we found two servants, who conducted us to an arbor under some wild laurel trees, where a little repast was prepared for us. At that moment the carriage of the Prince rolled by. Charles and the Count descended from it. Hortensia was very serious and laconic in her answers. She appeared lost in continued meditation. I saw that she was obliged to force herself to speak to the Prince. Towards me she preserved, unchanged, the cordiality and confidence of her deportment. Petrarch's dwelling was again visited, as the Count wished to see it. As we entered the room, which had been consecrated by the mutual confession of our hearts, Hortensia seated herself again on the chair near the table, in the same place, and with the book as at first, and so remained till we departed. Then she arose, laid her hand upon her breast, cast a penetrating look on me and hurried quickly from the apartment.

The Prince had remarked this emotion and this look. A deep red rose over his countenance; he went out with folded arms and his head hung down. All joy retreated from our party. Every one appeared desirous to reach the castle soon again. I did not doubt but that Charles's jealousy had guessed all, and feared his revenge less for myself than for the peace of the Countess. Therefore, as soon as I returned home, I determined to arrange every thing for my speedy departure the next morning. I communicated my irrevocable resolution to the Count, gave up to him all the papers, and entreated him to say nothing to the Countess until I was gone.

MELANCHOLY SEPARATION.

I had long since obtained the consent of the Count, that in this event the honest old Sebald should accompany me, who had many times demanded his dismissal, in order to revisit his German home. Sebald twirled and danced round the room for joy, when he heard from me that the moment of departure had arrived. A horse and cloak bag for each, was our whole equipment for the journey.

I had determined to withdraw very quietly at the dawn of the following day. No one knew any thing of my departure, except the Count and old Sebald, and I desired that no one should know it. I determined to leave behind for Hortensia a few lines of thanks and love, and an eternal farewell. The old Count appeared surprised, though not discontented. He embraced me most tenderly, thanked me for the services I had performed, and promised within an hour to come to my room, in order to give me some useful papers, which would procure

Trembling and almost breathless Sebald rushed into my room, hastily took up the packed portmanteau and cried:

"Mr. Faust, some mischief has happened; they will drag you to prison; they will murder you! Let us fly ere it is too late."

"In vain I asked the cause of his fright. I only learnt that the Count was in a rage, the Prince raving, and every one in the castle roused against me. I replied coldly, that I had nothing to fear, and still less to fly like a criminal.

"Sir," cried Sebald, one cannot escape without misfortune from this unhappy family, over which a bad star rules. This I have long since said. Fly!"

At this moment two of the Count's game-keepers came in and requested me to come immediately to the Count. Sebald blinked and winked, and urged me to endeavor to escape. I could not avoid smiling at his terror, and followed the servants. I, however, commanded Sebald to saddle the horses, since I no longer doubted that something extraordinary had occurred, and thought that the Prince, probably from jealousy, had projected some quarrel with me.

I had scarcely reached the Count Hormegg, when Charles came storming into the room, and declared that I had dishonored the house, and had a secret intrigue with the Countess. Beatrice, the companion of the Countess, gained over to the Prince, either by his presents or perhaps by his tenderness, had, as she left Petrarch's dwelling with Cecilia, become impatient at Hortensia and myself, and returned and seen us in the embrace of each other. The Abigail was discreet enough not to disturb us, but was prompt enough, so soon as we returned to the castle, to betray the important event to the Prince. The Count, who could believe any thing but this-since it appeared to him the most unnatural thing in the world, that a common citizen, a painter, should have won the love of a Coun tess of Hormegg-treated the affair, at first, as a mere illusion of jealousy. The Prince, for his justification, was obliged to betray his informer; and Beatrice, though much opposed to it, was compelled to acknowledge what she had seen.

The anger of the old Count knew no bounds; yet the event appeared to him so monstrous, that he determined to interrogate the Countess herself upon it. VOL. V.-32

She stopped. The Count wished to speak-the Prince likewise. She motioned them to be silent. She

"What has happened?" cried she, almost beside approached me, drew a ring from her finger, gave it to

"Hortensia, thou art accused of having stained the honor of our name, by-well then, it must be said,-pressed a kiss on my lips-her countenance changedby an intrigue with the painter, Faust. Hortensia, deny it-say no! Give honor and tranquillity again to thy father. Thou canst do it. Refute all malicious tonguesrefute the assertion that thou wast seen to-day in Faust's arms; it was a delusion, a misunderstanding, deception. Here stands the Prince, thy future husband. Reach him thy hand. Declare to him, that all that has been said against thee and Faust, are wicked lies. Faust's presence shall no longer disturb our peace: this night he leaves us forever."

Beatrice fell weeping at her feet. It was in vain-sheed my horse, when I saw a rider coming towards us at must obey, and departed.

been considered dead, had returned to life. This news | same night. These untoward circumstances made me had strengthened and consoled me. I was perfectly in- not quite at ease. I knew not whether I was flying different about my own fate. Hortensia's greatness of from or going to meet the danger. The justices' clerk soul had inspired me. I was proud of my misery. might be an agent of the Prince. In the meanwhile, My conscience, free from reproach, raised me above all we not only reached Rimini, but found there the Neafear. I had but one sorrow-to be eternally separated politan captain. I gave him the letter of the clerkfrom one whom I must ever love. though I do not deny that I had before opened and read it. I soon agreed with him as to our voyage to Na. ples. The wind became fair-the anchors were raised. Besides ourselves, there were some other travellers on board; amongst others, a young man, whose sight at first was not very agreeable to me, as I remembered to have seen him once, though very transiently at the baths of Battaglia. I, however, became easy, as I judged from his conversation, that he had not observed me, and that I was completely a stranger to him. He had only left Battaglia three days since, and was returning to Naples, where he carried on a considerable business. He mentioned the acquaintances which he had made at the baths, and spoke of the German Countess, who was a wonder of grace and beauty. How his remark made my heart beat! He appeared to know nothing of the wounding or death of the Prince. The Countess, whose name was unknown to him, had gone four days before him, but where, he had not troubled himself to inquire.

When we reached Ravenna, we took our first day's rest. It was a long day's rest—for I, shaken by the late events and exhausted by my unusual fatigue and exertion, was very ill. For two weeks I lay in a fever. Sebald endured the most painful anxiety, since he feared, and justly, the murder of the Prince would necessarily bring us into the hands of justice. He had given to us both feigned names, and bought other clothes. My good constitution, more than the science of my physician, at length preserved me, though great weakness remained in all my limbs. But as we had determined to go by ship from Rimini to Trieste, I hoped to recover my health on the way.

One evening Sebald came to me in the greatest fright and said, "Sir, we can remain here no longer. A stranger stands without, and wishes to speak with you. We are betrayed. He asked at first my name, and I could not deny it. He then asked for you."

"Let him come in," said I.

A well-dressed man entered, who, after the first exchange of politeness, inquired after my health. As I assured him, that I was quite well again, he said, "So much the better. I may then give you some good advice. You know, what passed between Prince Charles and yourself. He is out of danger, but has sworn to take your life. You had, therefore, better leave immediately. You intend to go to Germany by Trieste. Do not do so. There is no ship for Trieste at Rimini. There is only a Neapolitan vessel that goes back to Naples. When once at sea, you are safe; otherwise, in a few hours, death or a prison. Here is a letter for the Neapolitan captain, he is my truest friend, and will receive you with pleasure. Now, go immediately to Rimini, and from thence to Naples."

I was not a little embarrassed at seeing this stranger so well informed. To my questions, how he acquired this knowledge, he smiled and only replied, "I know nothing more, and can tell you nothing more. I reside here in Ravenna; am a clerk of the court. Save yourself." He then suddenly left us.

Sebald affirmed stoutly and firmly, that the man must be possessed by a devil, or he could not have known our secrets. As the stranger spoke with several of the people of the hotel, we learnt afterwards that the unknown so called court's secretary, was a good, honest man, wealthy and married. It was incomprehensible how our most carefully concealed plan of going to Germany by Trieste, could be so exactly known, as no one but ourselves was privy to it. The enigma was, however, soon solved, when Sebald confessed to me, that he had during my illness, written a letter to his former comrade Casper at Battaglia, begging to know whether the Prince was really dead or not. He expected the answer in vain. Without doubt, the letter had fallen into the hands of Charles or his people, or the contents were betrayed to him.

Sebald was now in the greatest anxiety. He engaged a carriage for Rimini without delay, and we set out that

However imperfect this news was, it served not a little to tranquillize me. Hortensia lived-Horsensia was in health. "May she be happy!" was my sigh.

The voyage was tedious to all but myself. I sought solitude. Upon the deck, I watched through many nights and dreamed of Hortensia. The young merchant, who called himself Tufaldini, remarked my melancholy, and took much pains to enliven me. He heard I was a painter; he passionately loved the art, and constantly turned the conversation upon that subject, since nothing but that appeared to interest or make me talkative. His sympathy and friendship went so far, that he invited me to stay at his house in Naples, which I was the less inclined to refuse, as I was an entire stranger in that city, and my own and Sebald's joint stock of gold, particularly after the deduction of travelling expenses, had considerably dwindled away.

NEW WONDER.

The kindness and attention of the generous Tufaldini, in fact put me to the blush. From a travelling companion, he had made himself my friend, though I had done little or nothing to gain or merit his love. He introduced me as his friend to his aged and respectable mother and charming wife. They prepared the best chambers for Sebald and myself, and treated me, from the first day of our arrival, like an old family friend. But Tufaldini did not rest here. He introduced me to all his acquaintances, and orders soon came for pictures. He was as eager to make me known, as if it were for his own advantage. He consented at last to receive payment for my board and lodging, though he was at first much mortified by my offering it. But when he saw my determination to leave his house, if he would not accept any remuneration, he took the money, though more to gratify me than indemnify himself.

I was, above all expectation, fortunate in my works.