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THE SUNNY SOUTH
PICCIOLA
OR,
The Power of Conscience.
BY MBS. JEANIE DAGG MALLABY.
struck something in her pocket. It was the"Bl- 1 His dark passionate eyes barn into her soul,
ble of Admetus. Unconsciously they clasped and his love-laden tones thrill her entire being
arouDfl the SQuare edges of tbe book. It wa^nn with exonisite haDDiness.
new thing to feel it there, for it had for months "Ah! you have come, and my heart is glad,”
been an inseparable companion. Now, to have she said in a sweet, tremulous voice. “But,
its touch remind her of her own false vows; to i canta. dost thou then love me so much?”
h". 116 . 1 ! mother had ]ust received hen -Love thee my soul-thee, mv beautiful star,
P h b i l3 ii ps were a, nust my guardian angel? Darling, tel sol quest an-
toucbing hers in kisses—oh! it was more than I w •"
her heart could bear. A faint flush colored her
face, her bloodless lips were purple now and
her hands were suddenly heated to a burning
heat. The Prince noticed it with joy and VZ
/ will be meatured for a conscience after the
newest fashion, one that will stretch handsome
ly as occasion may require.—Schiller.
For so vital a necessity to all living men is
Truth, that the vilest traitor feels amated, when
treason recoils on himself.—liulver.
[Copyrited by the anthor.]
CHAPTER IX. (Continued.)
With a sudden bound the Prince threw him
self upon his knees at her feet, and, seizing her
band he pressed it over and over again to his
lips. The eyes of the agitated girl were fas
tened upon the other hand, and round and round
with her thumb she twirled the basilisk ring,
and at each revolution its eyes emitted a fiery
light.
The Prince’s love was a new revelation**) Ola,
for never nntil this visit had such a possibility
entered her mind. Bhe felt that she had no re
turn to offer for such devotion: but a review of
her life, with all its unparalleled kindness and
tender watchfulness passed before her, and in
wardly she kept repeating as if to induce affec
tion, "All that I am I owe to him.”
At length the caressing ceased; and now the
girl’s band rested passively between his own,
while his eye scanned ber face as if to read bis
answer upon ber crimson cheek and brow.”
"Ola,” be asked, “is this a tacit consent?”
A slight, quick, involuntary shake of ber head
was the only reply; but though almost imper
ceptible, the Prince saw it, and reproachfully
exclaimed:
“Ola!”
“Prince,” and she made a violent effort to
command ber voice, “if I know the love of a
child for its parent, it is this love I have given
to you, for I do love you truly.”
“I am not your parent, you are no child, and I
do not want such affection as this. I demand
more, and I must and will have it. I can brook
no denial. Is it because I am in these cursed
walls that you feel so?”
“No, by no means.”
“Listen, Ola! I can escape now whenever I
will, and when I know your priceless love is
mine, and you promise me this hand, then I
will walk out ot this dungeon as free as that
aittle bird that now pushes Its tiny brown head
through those bars to reach your flowers.”
Ola raised her eyes inquiringly. The Prince
smiled and said:
“You think me in league with old Git—at
least I should Judge so by the start you gave.
No matter about this. Give me the promise I
am begging for, and at any hour you appoint, I
will promise to meet you, or will be willing to
forfeit your whole love. Will you try me?”
“I would like above all things to see you free,
Prince.”
“You can see me so, by saying the word. Say
you love me, Ola, and I will be free.”
“Prince, how can I do otherwise than love
you—you, my long tried friend, my only pro
tector. To you 1 owe all I am, and whether I
have anv claim upon you for all this, I do not
know. 'Your disinterested kindness demands
and receives my love, and did 1 feel but a com
monplace affection for you, your present
suf ”
'‘Stop, Ola, I cannot bear this. I desire no
love inspired by gratitude, no love born of pity.
Tell me you love me for myself, that it is the
spontaneous gushing of your heart that is mine.
Ola, for long, long years" I have loved you with
an undivided heart. No rival has ever shared
ibis love. Only confess that you have felt the
same, and you do not know what perfect happi
ness will fill my soul. Ola, you do not dream
how my vehement nature can love. Why that
distressed look—and a tear, too? Speak, I
knesi to you, Ola. What more humiliating atti
tude cs.du jasume. Tell me wbat I must do,
sid it SW|rbe tiojue, if it is even & life-long pen
ance. How can' I buy your love? Say any
thing—you terrify me, Ola. Stop this trembling,
and speak.”
Ola buried her face in her bands, but the
Prince in great agitation caught ber hands, and
You see I am myself again, entirely recovered
from the fierce paroxysm which alarmed you so.
I will not let feeling obtain the mastery this
time, and would not for a thousand worlds
wound you by rash, harsh, cruel expressions,
such as I was guilt; ot uttering a moment since.
Will you talk to me, now, ana will you answer
my questions?”
“1 will try, Prince, but you must be calm.”
“You trust me, Ola?”
“Do I not wear the pledge?”
“Yes, certainly, wby should I ask that ques
tion, when the answer lies glittering before me.
Ola. do you doubt my love for you?”
“No, Prince, I cannot. I realize it in all Its
fall fearful force, but I never dreamed of tt be
fore.”
“How could you think it possible for me to
live so long with you, enjoy daily your society,
bask in your bappy smiles, and not learn tbe
easv lessson love?"
“It never once occurred to me.”
“And have you never, kDowlng your entire
dependence upon me, and being my only ecm-
panion, have you never thought of loving me?
Answer truly, Ola.”
“I have loved you, Prince, from childhood,
and shall never cease to love you.”
“And has this love never Induced the thought
or marriage?”
“No, never.”
“A shade of disappointment and chagrin
swept over the dark face, but It quickly passed,
and then a sinister expression darted from bis
black eye, and an Insidious smile larked about
his mouth. It was a terrible face but Ola did
not see it. He spoke again, and now the tone
had more than its wonted gentleness, and there
was a persuasiveness about it, that calmed the
girl’s ruffled feelings, and quieted every fear.
The woras came slowly, almost reluctantly:
“Think, dear Ola, we have been tbrown to
gether, though having but little relationship to
each other it any at all. I pass tor your pro
tector, and it is known that you have been sup
ported by me. What will the world think and
say if we continue thus? Forgive me for dis
tressing you so. I have avoided the subject
long,but feel that I can do so no longer. You are
a young lady, dear Ola, I, a mau, appearing
but a few years your senior. Is it proper for us
to remain as we now are? For my part, I shrink
from tbe unfeeling remarks which have already
been reDeated within my bearing, and mar
riage is all that will prevent reproach. It is a
question which involves me as well as yourself,
Ola. How will you act?”
The arrow had been successfully aimed, and
its victim writhed in agony. The bosom of the
girl contracted nainfully, and she shivered from
head to foot. Her eyes were dry and wild, and
the crimson blood surged through the swollen
veins, while a red tide gushed, as her teeth bu
ried themselves in her vermilion lips. The
proud lip of the Prince curled slightly, and a
smile of intense satisfaction lighted the whole
face. Again in the same soft cooing voice he
spoke:
“I fear, dear Ola, you will suspect me of en
deavoring to advance my own selfish claims by
an unfair argument. Not for my right arm
would 1 be guilty of so dastardly an act. You
surely know be better. Your interest, your hap
piness is near my heart. Circumstances are
such as to forbid our separation, and were I to
ceiving it as a favorable change in her feelin»r
he smiled as she opened her eyes, and was
stooping once more to touch her lips—but she
threw up her haud, thrust his face rudely from
her and sprang from his embrace. With both
hands she pushed back her dishevelled hair
from her brow; then taking her white handker
chief she rubbed her lips so violently that the
blood streamed forth again. Not stopping for
the dark stain which dyed the snowy cambric
she pressed them with no gentle band—seem^
ing to think poison was bid iu some of the dim*
pies which nothing but blood could wash awav"
Putting one band into her pocket as if in search
of new strength, she spoke; and the words came
slowly through ner bloody lips.
“You haw.taken an ungentlemanly advantage
of me, sir. The promise of no madman is bind
ing. I was truly mad. I have made no vow—
1 will fu'fill none. No, sir, I will never be the
wile of a man who seeks to win one beneath the
miserable subterfuge of honor. You are desti
tute of honor. You ore a fiend in human shape
and your vile machinations smell strongly of
brimstone. Thank Heaven It Is not yet too late
I bate you thoroughly. I loathe you from sur
very soul!”
“Come, pretty one—what Is all this about? a
tragedy truly I What a tragic queen my beauti
ful will make! Well done, little one. Bravig.
siiuo! Go on. The curtain rises. What scene
next? A little Sbakspeare, darling. It would
sound most strangely sweet—most apropos to
the occasion.”
“Have it, then, and welcome, thou sneaking
Iago.
‘Whip me, ye devils.
From the possession of this Heavenly sight!
Blow me about In winds—roast me in sulphur!
Wash me in deep-down gulfs of liquid Ore!’
Ah! the passionate Italians!—they who love
so madly, so jealously!
Prince Giovanni has had many a beautiful
maiden to sigh her heart away for love of him;
for,
“Gayest in gondola or hall,
He glittered through the carnival
And tuned the softest serenade
That ere on Adria’s waters play’d,
At midnight, to Italian maid;”
their last on the dark face so dearly loved in
life, and then, like a whlre rose crushed be
neath a cruel heel, a fair lil» torn from Its stem
by some wanton breeze, Vassal! Montefeltro
falls forward into tbe dark waters below. Ere
her form disappears from sight, the spring ot
that fatal locket flies backward, and the moon
beams fall upon the pictured face of Riffo
Giovanni The man-, standing upon the colon
nade above, look down with a kind of horrid
fascination, but In another moment the silent i K re ®‘’f scholarship equal to that given in the
MASF SHARP COLLEGE.
WINCHESTER TENN.
Chartered 1850.
The first college in America that from ita or
ganization has required from its graduates a de-
waters close over the faithful forgiving face of i 11 *• . ,
his love, and he is left alone, with only the voice clarms of this Institution are based upon
of the nightingales singing in his ear, as they I lt8 , hl 8b ft»'<iard of culture; ite extended eurn-
siug a requiem for that true heart so lately
stilled.
leave you, U^Mild not benefit ojir cau%e. I love
you, Ola, I WW^.liiingly take’
sat watching the tears that trickled dowu her j with this. Now.
cheeks, and her lips quivering with suppressed and I sha
feeling. Like one stunned by a crushing
weight, he knelt and looked into ber face. Sud
denly, as if just aroused to a sense of his situa
tion, be exclaimed in pleading tones:
"O, Ola, love me. Ola, my own darling, love
me. Oh, you must. You will not cast me from
you, my only one. Say you do love me. Ola, I
am waitiug. My heart 1s breaking. Ola, I
plead, I beg for your love,” and her small hands
were nearly crushed in his convulsive grasp.
The poor girl felt the time had come when she
must speak.
“As my protector, my best friend, Ido love
you most tenderly.” aDd then in a choking
voice she murmured low, “but ask me for no
more.”
A look of mute surprise, then one of deep de
spair met her, and in the fullness of her truly
_ . >ydu to my arms as
my wife, and stop these vituperations. You love
me with that calm affection with which it is
proper a woman should regard her intended. I
commend you for your prudeuce, you should not
love more ardently, and 1 am fully satisfied
his. Now, Ola, lay your hand in mine,
shall know that you fully appreciate my
position, and I will receive this as a promise
that you will give your aid to silence remarks,
by the plan proposed. Give me your hand, now,
and we will drop the subject for it is exceeding
ly unpleasant to me, and must be so to you.”
Like one petrified Ola sat, aDd not a muscle
moved as the Prince tortured with bis poisoned
arrow. It was truly a weapon wreathed la flow
ers, which he had plunged into her beirt. In
breathless anxiety ne waited, and there was an
exultant leer in his eye.
“Think, Ola,” he said softly as he touched her
hand with bis fingers, to remind her that his
open hand was near. “Act quickly, the time
is last passiDg. Here is my hand wait
ing to receive yours,” and he held his
broad palm closer, so as to make
the effort less. “Think of the cruel words
“rather than let me be the wife of the Black
Prince of tbe Bloody Brotherhood. Listen to
me, sir I It is your time now to listen. Those
vows you dragged from my tortured heart are
plighted to another.”
“Another!’ he stormed. Another? Who, tell
me and I’ll . Tell me, quick!”
“Yes, another, sir, far dearer than my life.
An honorable man, sir, who would not stoop to
subterfuge. One who left me strangely, but I
trust him yet. My heart is his, and his it shall
remain.”
“Who is it, I demand? Girl, do you hear me
speak?”
“Yes, I hear you speak, and I do not blush to
say it is Admetus."
For a moment the dark brow scowled still
more, but Ola stood before him as fearless, and
as motionless as a marble statue A fiery light
flamed from his eye as, in the bitterest sarcasm,
he muttered:
“Admetus indeed! Romantic truly to stand
and declare an unwomanly love for one who has
left you. I heard bis avowal—heard it all. r
knew of your meditated escape, but you can
scarcely realize that his fear of II Sospiro made
him fly from Ills lady-love, and that his chival
rous heart left her to endure whatever tortures
the Black Prince chose to inflict.”
“It is false, sir. I do not believe one word of
It. It is a base fabrication.”
“Nay, you need not believe it; but listen! and
I’ll tell you what you may believe. I hated
that smooth faced boy, and for eighteen years
my hatred had been strengthening. I hated him
because you loved him, and I had him. killed.
Hal you start! Stop, my pretty one,listen. Me-
thinks It is your lime to listen now. At mid
night, when the ‘song and Jest were loudest
your brave admirer, your most devoted Adme
tus was wrapped in the waves of Archeron, cold
and stiff in death I laughed to think how long
you would wait. It was but a little lesson I
taught you.—Admetus! ha! hat Dead! ha! ha!
and still you wait!”
Ola staggered back, and would have fallen to
tbe flior out her numbed form struck the iron
door. Like Niobe, petrified by grief, she stood
tearles and still. In the same jeering tone the
Prince continued:
“Not like your Lord du FayelwilJ I be jealous
of a dead man. Love him on, little one, out be
my wife.”
"I will not, sir. You have severed the last tie
that bound us. If that noble man has fallen a
victim to your vengence, then heaven be my wit
ness, as he was my first, he shall be my last lov
I vow here before high heaven to marry
but Admetus God do so to me, and. more
distressed heart, she took his baDd, now cold I that have exasperated me beyond human
endurance. Think of all 1 have suffered
for you suffered in silence, Ola, for uuul now
I have never breathed this to you. Think of
the many, many sleepless nights I have spent,
and am still spending, and bow it is wearing
my life away; for it is this, dear Ola, that keeps
me in this feverish state, produced this emacia
tion, deprives me of all peace and quiet, and
nearly drives me crazy. 1 have kept my lips
closed long enough—too long already, I fear,
for my enfeebled body. If you can brave it out,
/cannot. / writhe, I die,- and far better is death
than sullied honor."
A long, wild cry resounded through the coll,
then another; and then a cold hand was laid in
that of the Prince, while the other supported her
drooping head.
CHAPTER X.
Smothering his intense delight, the Prince
merely bent his fingers over Ola’s trembling
hand in a gentle pressure, while with the other
he carelessly encircled her waist, and sat wait-
ng the time to apeak, when the first burst of
feeling should pass. Thus be sat, motionless,
revelling In the deep delight that Ola’s promise
had at last been mined, and congratulating him
self upon the Inver’s stratagem At length,
thinking his indifference had lasted long enough,
he said:
“You have acted well, Ola, just as I supposed
yon would. I honor and respect you more than
ever for your present decision. Try to calm
yourself, now, and let us arrange for tbe future.
To-night I will escape. Bring some officer or
minister—any one empowered to officiate in
such things—aDd meet me near Westminster.
At ten to-night you will be my wife. Can you
realize it? ’
There was no reply; hut again the poor girl
was seized with shivering from head to loot.
Not noticing the silence or the effect of his
words, he continued:
"Yes, my wife, and then we can spend months
in traveling. To my beautiful Venice we will
go—that spot you have longed so to see. Shall
we go there first?”
Her head sank a little lower on her hand, but
still there was no reply. Placing her hand upon
his knee, he pressed out her fingers upon his
black broadcloth as he added:
“This hand must wear another ring now—our
weddingring. What shall it be, littleone? Any
thing you say. Diamonds, of course; but which,
a crescent or cluster? Which, dearest—say?”
Still not a word escaped her lips, but another
long shiver passed over her, which alarmed him.
"Are you cold, Ola?” he asked. “You shake
as if you had a terrible ague. Are you cold?”
The Prince’s patience was sorely tiied, for not
one word could he obtain. He was vexed at her
persistent silence, but her cold hand and tbe
shivering terrified him. He made one more ef
fort.
"You are frightened, Ola, at the thought of
our speedy marriage. It is a little startling to
me, too. for it is very sudden, and there must
„ , . , necessarily be but little preamble. You are ex-
xecovered herself, and said: , citing yourself too much—you will surely be ill.
“Let us talk ot something else, Prince. I free- UU dl-”and he whispered in her ear—‘have
ly forgive, and now let us forget the past con- new power over you this momiDg, and must ex-
versatlon. Your til health unnerves you. How j erC j 3e my right, as expectant husband, to insist
canyotir mind and frame continue vigorous that you be calm. You will Deed all your
within these close, heated mouldy walls?' I strength to-night, my pearl. Come, I have
But there seemed to be a dearth of subjects, i wa jted long enough! Put this other hand down
for a long silence followed during which the j E0W , and look at me.
Prince never removed his eyes from the averted j He took her hand down from her face, but
face before him. At length with the indisenb- . stl u her head was bent low. Usine the hand
able magnetic attraction which persons feel in- w pich had been pressing her fingers'still curled
capable of resisting, when conscious that an- aro und his knee, he placed it beneath her chin
other is gazing at them, sne glanced up. The | au d turned her face until fronting his. There
expression of nis face was full of the deepest > was no blush, no answer to his ardent gaze, but
*—“— Ki “ -”* a softened. and asam ber cheeks were bloodless and her eyes had a
in its clammy moisture, and pressed it to her
lips, as if to sooth“ the anguish she felt she
could not remove. The act so touching, aroused
him to full consciousness, and snatching his
hand from ber soft caress, he exclaimed in an
excited tone:
“llacio di bocco spesso cuor non tocca."
“Hut it docs toucu my heart, my dear friend,”
she said, in a troubled voice. “I long to see you
happy. Believe me. the pain I now suffer is
double that I am inflicting. I do love you, truly
love you. Be satisfied with this, and ask no
more.”
“No more. I think you said, and this is twice
it has passed your lips. No more, indeed!” and
the excited man sprang to his feet. “Girl, do
you know what you say. and wbat you refuse?
f. the Black Prince, do I cringe before a thing
of eighteen—an ingrate that I could this mo
ment crush with one blow of my boot. Do you
say no more to me—you cannot love? I tell
you, girl, you can, you shall. You are mine
now, and mine you shall ever be. Once before
I said, no oower of Heaven or Hell can wrest
you from me. and now I vow before high Heaven
that you shall be mine, If not with vows of love,
then with perjured vows, for come they must..
I tell you now, they shall be spoken.”
The tears that bad filled her eyes were
quickly dried, the soft ligfct faded, and a defiant
look took its place, while in a cool, clear voice,
with Ups compressed, she spoke:
“Never/ Sever! No perjured vows shaU pass
my lips.”
“Ha! Hal You think so now, my precious
one,” aDd be again tried to seize her band, but
ahe drew back, as If bis very touch wire con
tamination.
“Hands cff. sir,” she exclaimed, “you are
last becoming hateful.”
“Hands off—hateful, forsooth! Hal Ha! My
beautiful, my pearl, ours will be a glorious wed
ding, romantic in the extreme. When shall it
be my gentle dove? Only speak to your impa
tient, happy lover, and name the longed-for,
blessful day.”
“I tell you nei<er, sir.” and the blazing eye
met his without flinching. “Sooner would I die
than wed you as you now seem to me. Sooner
would I die than be the wife of the unprincipled
man who threatens a forced marriage. No. sir,
it shall never be. 1 will fill my narrow coffin
first ”
"Ola!” and now in a calm, subdued, sorrow
ful voice the Prince spoke, “torgive me if you
can, for all the words I have just uttered. I
am ashamed of my impetuosity, but tbe very
thought of losing your precious love is to me
worse than the most painful death, and 1lie full
realization of all the horrors of hereafter—if such
there be. It maddens me. I know not what I
say. and desperation forces unkind, harsh
words from me. 1 am far from well today, dear
Ola, forgive me for having wounded you, and
place it all to the account of overpowering, un
bounded love, and a body enfeebled by hope
deferred and unjust Imprisonment within these
3tone walls. Say, am I forgiveD?”
Quick to resent, but quicker to forgive, Ola
if I forget this solemn vo
"Stop, my'i—arT, you are _
your own voluntary act you placed your banL
in mine, and mine It must be. I shall surely
claim it at the altar. Remember our arrange
ments are already made,—escape to night, meet
near West ”
“No, I will not meet you, if you escape a thou
sand times.”
“Ah! my gentle one, not so fast. Take back
those cruel words,” and the Prince approached.
"Stop, sir,” she exclaimed, “not another step
or blood will flow,” and, tnrusting her hand in
to her bosom, she drew forth a small jeweled
stiletto, and waved it above her head.
‘■From whose veiss will it flow, Fair Mvd of
Saragossa? Is my life threatened?’•’
"Rather than hear your heaping insults this
friendly point shall drink my own blood. I do
not fear to die, and since Admetus is gone be
fore, I shall be only too glad to follow.”
Awe struck, the Prince recoiled in terror from
the glittering weapon upon which she smiled
with strange delight. Stepping back he regar
ded her with silent admiration; and,as the bles
sing seemed about to elude his grasp, it seemed
dearer, more desirable than ever. He longed to
approach, but he dared not move one step, for
he read In her calm, cold, blue eye the fixed de
termination to die. How long she would have
stood brandishing the stiletto above her head,
he could not codjecture, but the turning of the
key In the great lock made her quickly sheathe
her weapon, and without a word she sprang
through the open door and fled.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
The Panther King.
BY KATE WARE-
It is night in Venice, and the Italian moon
sheds its beams in undimmed splendor over the
great dream like city, Tne silvery light falls
upon many stately palaces, around which the
silent waters ever ebb and flow; but it seems
to rest with a brighter radiance, a softer bril
liancy on one fair mansion, upon the balcony
of which is sitting the Lady Vassal! Montefel
tro. The glittering moonbeams quiver, for a mo
ment, on the white, gleaming marble above her
head, and then descend and linger caressingly
on the perfumed golden locks, and fair patri
cian features of this Lady of Venice.
She sits with ;hands idly clasped together
looking down on the brilliant play of light on
the shimmering water below; and tnere is a
half tender, half pensive smile on the haughty
lips, for she is thinking of her handsome, dusky
eyed lover, Prince Riffo Giovanni. She—the
fairest flower of the mighty house of Montefel
tro—has many suitors, but in the “azure gloom” asKcutuu.
of this divine Italian night, she whispers softly *ou to speak.”
to herself tt at he alone has ever had the power r She does not
to stir the gi ea" deep of her soul—to waken her
slumbering heart to love. Ah! Laay of Ve
nice, dreaming so happily of a rose-tinted pres
ent and of a golden future. will you ever know
what a “cruel, cruel and Panther King is—”
At this moment the musical plash of waters
tells of an approaching gondola, and as the
sound falls upon Lady Vassali’s ears a crimson
flush sweeps over the proud, beautiful face-
for she knows that her lover is drawing near’
Yes, it is Prince Giovanni, and as the gondola
shoots forward his face is upturned towards his
lady love. It is a handsome, insoDciant face
dusk like a poppy, upon which the moonbeams
fall, and possessed of all the beauty, fire and
passion typical of that haughty, dusky-eved
race—the Italians. He is a true child of the
Southland, a perfect type of that
feeling, his fiery eye was softened, and again
her eye quickly fell, as he murmured in the ten-
derest tones:
"My own darling!” „ „ ,
Tears would come; and a stray one fell .rom
her lasnes. He seated himself agalu upon the
rude box by her side, took her hand gently, and
said with forced calmness:
stony look. The Prince was shocked at the per
fect transformation, but he passed it by unno
ticed and drew her face still nearer, and then
leaned forward until his lips were nearly touch
ing hers. She shuddered and drew back. The
hand which had rested upon his knee she had
removed, and now it lay upon her side. As it
‘Ola, let us speak calmly, dispassionately. ; sank In the soft folds of her dress her fingers
“Land where the sweet guitar,
And the magic flute
Reply to harper’s strain, reply with love’s re
fraln;
Reply with sweet salute,”
and there is a peculiar charm, a nameless now
er of fascination iu the rich, flowing counte*
nance, which a fairer masculine,face could noy
er hold.
As his dark eyes, half veiled by the long-curl
ing lashes, meet those of the "faire ladve”
above him. she sees in their slumberous deDths
such passionate love and admiration, till mvni
untariiy the white lids flutter and droop over
her own dusky orbs, and again that conspire,«
flush rises to her face. 3
He, with courtly grace, salutes the golden
haired beauty, and then rows gently to the foot
of the marble stairs, leading upward from the
waters edge to the balcony. His quick imm
tient footsteps fall lightly on the white. echoic,
stone, and in a moment Prince Giovanni is hv
the side of his love. U T
"0, mi belle: again I am in the heaven of thv
presence,” ne murmurs, as his patrician li ns
imprint a kiss on the fair hand extended to warn,
him-a hand upon which gleams the Giovanni
betrothal ring "Ah, Vassal! mio, the hows
are so long and weary when I cannot see vow
lovely fa :e. Away from you I have no niWs
Sfl’ltselL’" PPy ’ f ° r y ° U are my a11 ’ “>y very
but he, handsome and careless, had remained
“fancy free” until—one never ro be forgotten
day—Fate, in the liquid eyes of Vassall Monte
feltro, smiled into the depths ot his soul, and
he had found “the heart of all hearts that was
meant for bis.” The lovers are very happy,
for a cloudless affection has softened both
haughty, imperious natures, and as yet Jeal
ousy—the twin sister of love--ls sleeping.
An! the “Panther King” Is fair to see! v
“ 'Tts a divine night, carita," murmurs Vas
sal!, looking out across the moonlit beauty of
the canal. “Ahl Raff j mea,” turning towards
him, “this sunny Italy, birth-place of genius
and borne ot tbe arts, is as ‘fair as poets’ dream
ing.’ Who is it, caro miro, that can but love our
beautiful land?”
“Only those who know It not,” he replied with
enthusiasm; for in tbe heart of every Italian—
whether prmce or pauper, poet or peasant-
burns a devoted amor patrie, and bis Ups are,
ever ready to do homage to tbe loved land. i
“Dost remember, dolce miro," he continues,
“how beautifully the grand, tbe sublime Tasso
writes of our fair Italy!"
“Yes, yes,” her red Ups partlDg, her starry
eyes wondrously beautiful. “Ah! R ffo, it is cot
strangs that, in the centuries long gone by, bis
countrymen called him ‘the dear little Tasso’—
he who was so ever ready to sing the praises of
his own loved country—and that we to-day honor
him as a poet beyond compare.”
At tbis moment a band of Italian harpers, two
streets beyond them, commence playing soft,
delightful music, and the night wind brings to
their listening ears the sweet, insouciant strains
of “La donna e mobile.” But the entrancing
sounds soon echo faintly and far In the distance;
and presently, as before, reigns the dreamlDg
(almost enchanted) stillness. As the last talnf
notes quiver on the evening air Prince Raffo”
eyes light with sudden animation.
“The music, angela mia, reminds me of bow
sweetly tbe nightingales sing, on such a night
as this, in tbe myrtle grass of San Marco.
Dearest, come with me aanswe will wander, my
love, where the roses are rec with the sun’s kiss
and perfumes from the orange groves are sweet
est. Anima mia. will you come?”
"Ah! Raffo, let us go.”
Again light footsteps fall upon tbe marble
stairs, for tbe lovers pass downward from the
balcony; and as they step into the goDdola the
moonbe.ams fall upon both handsome, haughty
faces—one darkly beautiful, one divinely fair,
and tbe faint, poetical light idealizes with ex
quisite sadness their proud, Venetian features.
Why did the lady for a moment feel an unac
countable pain in her heart—a kind of strange
dread, a vague premonition of some unknown
terrible event? Why did she fancy that the
wind, as it swept mournfully by, was sobbing
and sighiDg a requiem as though in pity for the
sad decree of a sorrowful late?
Why—but she looks up to behold the hand
some face of her true noble love; hears his ever
foud and faithful voice whispering sweet pas
sionate words iu her ear; and the sadness van
ishes from the heart like mist before the sun’s
ravs.
The rippling water irradiates a thousand di-
amond-Iike sparks as the gondola—that storied
boat of Venetian romance—glideslswittly and si
lently down tbe moonlit canals, under dark,
frowning bridges, or past long rows of stately
palaces, bearing the lovers onward, their hearts
throbbing with the happiness of youth, life,
love; ana at last the fluted columns, the gleam
ing porticos, the grand colonnades of San Marco
appear glittering like some fairy palace in
dreamland; for the pitying moonlight gilds,
with all "the pride of former |days,” the dimin
ished, defaced, though graceful arches, and re
stores the lustre to the onco spotless marble,
now corroded with the damp of ages.
This San Marco was, in days gone by, a mag
nificent edifice-a kind of pleasure resort for
the youth and beauty of the city—but long years
it has stood alone, silent deserted. It rises di
rectly from the water’s edge, but tbe rear of the
building is encircled by neglected, unfrequent
ed pleasure grounds—once fair and beautiful as
" glimpse ftl Edeni Tne flowers, however, still
Jtmmtn'UF uucJ*lTSWii*t»roIu5uli, and
wilderness of Southern bloom and verdure is a
a favorite haunt of the nightingales. The lov
ers, on moonlight nights, sometimes wander
here, breathing to each other vows of faithful,
unchanging devotion.
Prince Raffo’s gondola shoots down a long
A jnue of shadowy waters, leading to San Mar
co, and as Lady Montefeltro bears slightly for
ward to gain a better view of tbe ruined palace,
her lover notices on her fair bosom a locket
which glitters and scintillates in the moon’s
rays. It is a pretty locket, set in costly pearls
—those pure, cold, congealed tears—and in the
centre flashes and burns a blood red ruby.
“ ’Tis a pretty jewel you wear, angela mia,"
he says, “and it reminds me, carita, somewhat
of yourself. The pearls are typical of your fair
proud, beautiful face; the ruby, of your warm,
loving heart.” His dark eyes look into her own,
and his tones are as soft as night dews which
fall upon sleeping flowers. “But you, tu que
adoro, are more precious to me tnan rubies.
You are my pearl of great price.”
“Ah, you flatter!” she gayly cries, but there
rests a glow upon her face which is not a reflec
tion from the gleaming ruby.
“Tell, me love,” he asks half jestingly, “whose
pictured face does your locket contain?”
"Ah, but you are curious, Prince Raffo,” with
a delighted little laugh. “Shall 1 tell you though,
caro mio ?”
“Yes, 1 am all anxiety to know,” he replies
somewhat carelessly, for his dark eyes rest ad
miringly upon his beautiful love, and he is think
ing of tne time when he can claim her as his
“own fair bride.”
“The face of my ‘nearest and dearest’—the
one I love best upon earth.”
He is keenly alive in a moment to her words,
aDd a strange kind of whiteness settles about
his lips, as ne asks, oh! so tenderly:
“Who is, darling?”
Lady Montefeltro does not observe the chang
ed expression on her lover’s face, for she is
gazing straight ahead at the desolated palace
which they are rapidiy approaching, and she
answers:
I do not think I shall tell you just yet, Sir
Curiosity,” teasingly, “what do you think of
that?”
There are red gleams in his slumbrous eyes,
and his face Is colorless with suppressed emo
tion, but he replies, still in that loving, tender
tone:
"Ah, Vassali mio, you are cruel! Whose
pictured face,”—a world of pleading in his voice
— ‘.sit, dear, that rests above your heart?’
By this time, they arrive at San Marco, and
the silvery nightingale is heard singing amid
the intoxicating perfumes which pervade the
night air. As they stand upon the dark old
colonnade, full ot blotting shadows he speaks
again:
“Vassali, dearest love, tell me what I have
asked you. dace more, anima mia, I entreat
Prince Giovanni is strangely quiet, all the
madness has left his brain, the aDgry jealousy,
disappeared from his face. A hand of Ice seems
to be pressing on his heart, and he cannot see
for a mist is in his eyes; no longer does he hear
the nightingales, no longer does be heed the
night wind as It sighs around him. He can only
think o! Vassali, as he saw her tonight, sitting
upon the balcony in all tbe glorious youth ana
beauty, her dusky eyes full of tender love as
she gazed down at him, can only "hear the in-
fllice” whispered by tbe phantom years.
Suddenly, with a great cry—the cry of a break
ing heart, a tortured soul.he springs forward,and
tbe dark, mysterious waters instantaneously
close over him. A few tipples float upon tbe
surface, then disappear, and all is quiet again.
The moon envelops Itself in a cloud, and only
the stars shine down in white, pitying splendor,
as the sad winds sigh through the ruined pal
ace, aDd the voice of the nightingale dies away
in a sob.
"Alas, alas, my sisters,
True frlenshlp is a dove,
But a cruel, cruel Panther King is love!”
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She does not hear the passionate appeal In
his voice, does not see his stern, pale features;
for she lightlv answers:
“Not now, Riff j. Some day perhaps I will.”
In a moment, his handsome face becomes dis
torted with all the maddening, suppressed
jealousy which rages in his heart, and grasping
ner arm with cruel force, he hissed through his
set teeth:
“Some one has supplanted me In your fickle
favor. Who is it? I demand a right to know.”
She looked at him in astoalshment, for a little
while, then pride and auger—the comoliments
of j“alou6y—flish into her face. Haughtily
turning from him in a clear cold voice she re-
pl “ e prince Giovanni, certainly you forget your
self.”
Her words thoroughly arouse his impetuous
Southern nature, and the Italian Dlood courses
wildly through his veins. An, heaven!” he
oassionately cries, “why did I ever beheld this
false enchantress? Way have I listened to her
syren voice—listened to be lured on totiiis?
Beautiful friend, whom I had enshrined Id my
heart as a woman little less than angel, to be so
cruel, so hearffess. Wicked treacherous be
ing’’turning fljrcely upon ner, “exult tn tri
umph over the last victim of your perddy!”
Her face had. hitherto, been white aad cold,
like the play of moonlight on Ice, but now it
flashes an angry red, and she excitedly —
L “Piease remember to whoiiyou are address> ;
ing yourself, and," she added, “release m7 arm
instantly.” ;
Her words seem to deprive him of all control,
his breath comes ;n not. quick gasps, and his
eves sleam with tae lurid light of madness “So
be it,” he mutters incoherently. “Ch
sara ” ^ I -d
* A jewelled dagger fl ishes, for a moment, i
his hand, the next it is buried to the quivering
hilt in the heart of Vassali Montefeltro. In
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fade from her face, leaving it white with an
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rowful reproach she cries;
‘■On’ Riffo love, how could you!”
Her voice sinks to a husky whisper, for the
death dews gathered on her brow; the beautiful
eyes become dulled and glazed as they look
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