stand gazing at him, all filled with rich spices and aromatic drugs; at different distances rose enormous pasties, two or three feet high, from which, at a signal given, the covers were lifted by unseen aid, and from the interior appeared as many dwarfs, strangely attired, who distributed the contents with silver spoons, and flung flowers on the guests. Among other devices was a small wild boar, which seemed assailed by the spears of hunters formed of paste; hunters and game were soon distributed among the revellers. Towards the close of the banquet, four pages entered the hall, clothed in red and yellow liveries, bearing a plate on which lay an enormous fish. They placed the dish before Gonsalvo, while all admired the size of the fish and the ornaments about it; its back being surmounted by a mythological figure of a naked youth with a lyre in his hand. The Grand Captain turning to the Duke de Nemours, presented him a knife entreating him to open the mouth of the fish.

"As the Duke opened, there flew out a number of doves, that took flight through the hall, seeking egress from their prison. This piece of sport was received with marvellous glee by the company; but as the doves lighted here and there, they perceived that from the neck of each hung a jewel, and a paper on which a name was written. Perceiving the fanciful and elegant manner in which the liberality of the host had shown itself, there ensued no little strife to secure the birds, and whoever caught one, reading the name, with great exultation presented it to the person for whom it was designed.

"Fanfulla pursued one of the doves, and perceiving that it bore the name of Donna Elvira, redoubled his efforts to be able to present her the gift. Having secured the bird he advanced, and kneeling on one knee, offered it to her, with a splendid clasp of diamonds, suspended around its neck. The lady received the gift with grateful courtesy; approaching it to her face, as if to caress it, the wings of the fluttering bird discomposed the fair ringlets on her brow, and tinged her cheek with a deeper crimson.

*

*

"But Fanfulla could not see without envy and anger, that after having attentively examined the jewelled clasp, and praised its splendour, she turned to Fieramosca, and giving him a golden pin, begged him to fasten the buckle on her bosom. Victoria, who was near, advanced to render her this service; and even Hector, aware of the indiscretion of her request, was about to give up the pin; but Elvira, capricious and self-willed as an over indulged child, stepped between them, and said to Fieramosca with a smile that concealed some pique,

"Are you so used to handle the sword, that you disdain to touch an humbler instrument?' The Italian could do no more than obey; the Colonna turned away with displeasure on her noble and beautiful features; and Fanfulla looking a moment at Hector, exclaimed:

"It is well others sow, and you reap!' he then passed from the spot, muttering as if he had been alone in the street, and not in the midst of a crowded assemblage.

"The presents of Gonsalvo were not confined to the ladies: he had also thought of his French guests; the Duke and his Barons received rich gifts of rings, and ornaments of gold, &c., designed to wear in their bonnets or about their persons. The magnificence of the Grand Captain displayed in this banquet, was not without design; he wished to show his enemies

the amplitude of his means, no less to supply the wants of his people than his present courteous profusion.

“The Duke de Nemours, according to the custom of his country, then rose, and taking up his goblet, turned to the lady Elvira, and prayed her to accept him henceforward as her cavalier, saving his obedience due to the most Christian King. The damsel accepted his service and answered courteously; after other healths were drank, Gonsalvo rose, and, followed by all the guests, went out upon an open gal. lery that overlooked the sea, where the remaining hours of the day were passed in conversation.

"The greater part of the time, Elvira and Fieramosca were together. The youth scarce found himself a moment from her side; for if he left her to mingle with the company in some other circle, she was again in a few minutes near him. Hector, too discerning not to perceive this preference, from a sentiment of honour avoided encouraging it; but could not appear discourteous, influenced by deference to Gonsalvo's will, and the gentleness of his own nature. Many observed their movements, and smilingly whispered among themselves. Fanfulla, piqued at the affair of the dove, was vexed to see his companion in such favour, and when he approached him, took occasion to say, half in jest and half in anger, You shall pay me, at all events, for this!'"

To those of our readers who are unacquainted with the details of a ball in the beginning of the sixteenth century, some account of the concluding festivities may not be uninteresting.

"Two o'clock in the evening* had struck, when the amusements of the theatre being over, the company returned into the hall where they had dined, which, altered in its decorations, shone with numberless lights from wax torches in huge candlesticks, and from a vast chandelier hung from the vaulted roof. The orchestra, as during the dining hour, was in an open gallery around the walls, about two thirds of the way from the floor to the ceiling; besides the musicians, who occupied one side, there were in it all sorts of people, of the lower grade, who wished to be spectators of an amusement in which their rank did not suffer them to take part.

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Gonsalvo, with his guests and the ladies, seated themselves on a carpet spread where the banners hung from the wall, and the Duke rising as soon as the hall was filled, requested the honour of Donna Elvira's hand to begin the dance. When it was over, and the maiden conducted to her seat, Fieramosca, desirous also of showing courtesy on this occasion, came to offer her his hand, praying excuse beforehand for his own unskilfulness. The proposition was accepted with evident joy; several other couples joined them, Fanfulla among the rest, who, not fortunate enough to obtain the hand of the lady Elvira, had provided himself a partner among the ladies of Barletta, and in the mazes of the dance found himself frequently close to Hector and his fair companion. The eager attention with which he observed her every action and movement, did not reward him by informing him of aught grateful to his feelings; in the timid glances of the young girl might be read her emotion at every look of her partner; and the sound of the music, the giddy whirl of the dance, and the frequent touching of hands which the changes of position *Between eight and nine, according to modern computation.

rendered necessary, had wrought the feelings of the daughter of Gonsalvo to a pitch of excitement that could scarcely be repressed. Her state of mind was equally evident to Hector and Fanfulla; the former was grieved at it—the latter incensed; he continued with whispered words or meaning looks to molest Fieramosca, who not relishing such raillery, preserved a serious countenance; his melancholy interpreted by the Spanish maiden in her own manner.

"At length, Donna Elvira, with that adventurous imprudence belonging to her character, seizing a moment when her partner held her hand, leaned towards him, and whispered- When the dance is over, I shall walk on the terrace that overlooks the sea; be there, for I wish to speak with you.'

"Fieramosca, unpleasantly surprised at these words, merely nodded assent with countenance slight ly changed, and uttered not word in reply. But whether that the damsel lacked caution in not lowering her voice sufficiently, or that Fanfulla stood too much on the watch, he also overheard the whisper, and cursed in his heart the fortune that favoured Fieramosca."

The persecuted hero has nothing better to do than retire precipitately from the ballroom, availing him. self of the excuse of a headache, one of those pleas which our author informs us, served on similar occasions in the sixteenth as aptly as it does in the nineteenth century.

"The young cavaliers who took part in the dance, according to custom and to avoid inconvenience, had thrown aside the mantles that usually hung from their shoulders, and deposited them in an adjoining apartment, remaining for the most part simply attired in white satin. Fanfulla and Hector both wore this dress, and were alike in stature and proportions; their mantles only were different; Fieramosca wore blue embroidered with silver; that of Fanfulla was scarlet.

"Hector found Diego Garcia (master of the ceremonies,) and prayed him to present his excuses to Gonsalvo and his daughter, he being compelled through indisposition to retire; he then hastened to the next apartment to don his mantle; but on crossing the threshold, at a moment when the crowd was not great, no one being near him, he felt a light touch on his shoulder, as if occasioned by something falling from the ceiling, and, at the same instant, a folded paper fell at his feet. Looking upward, he saw no one, nor did any seem to be observing him. He was about to pass on; then stooped and picked up the paper; unfolding it, a stone was found within, placed there merely for the purpose of giving it weight. On the paper was written in large and scarcely legible letters- Madonna Ginevra is to be stolen from St. Ursula this night, by order of Duke Valentino, as the bell strikes three. He who gives you this information, awaits you, with three companions at the castle gate, and will be known by a javelin in his hand.'

"A cold shudder ran through the knight's frame as he read and remembered that half past two had already sounded from the clock of the tower; pale as a man, who wounded unto death, makes his last steps forward as he is about to fall, with the swiftness of thought he sprang to the door and down the staircase, without mantle or hat, striking with amazement all who saw him, and hastened to the spot pointed out; the arch of the entrance was dark; but

as he gazed, breathless with haste and anxiety, he saw, leaving the wall, against which he had been leaning, a man with a javelin in his hand."

He departs in haste to rescue the lady, with Brancaleone and Inigo, who had followed him at a distance; meanwhile,

Fanfulla, to whom chance had revealed the secret of Donna Elvira, was resolved to profit by it, but could not hit upon the method, till seeing his favoured rival rush out in so much haste, without hat or mantle, a mad thought entered his brain, and he who never hesitated at the gratification of a moment's caprice, resolved to put it in execution.

"Watching the daughter of Gonsalvo, he had seen her when the dance was concluded, depart for the balcony, and knew she could not be aware of the departure of Fieramosca. He ran quickly to the apartment where the mantles were left, which had all been resumed by their wearers, with the exception of his own and his friend's. Hector's velvet cap, surmounted by flowing plumes, he placed on his head so that the plumes overshadowed his face; threw the blue mantle on his shoulders; and none who saw his figure could have doubted that it was Fieramosca himself. Thus he passed through the crowd quietly to the balcony, where there were no lights—the gloom only dissipated by the splendour within the hall; many boxes of fruit disposed tastefully around, contributed to darken the place, so that concealment was easy from those who came from the dancing room. When the young man entered, he saw that the balcony was solitary, and advancing cautiously beheld Donna Elvira seated near the parapet overlooking the sea, her elbow resting on the iron bar; supporting her head with her hand, she was gazing at the heavens.

"The moon was obscured by driving clouds at the moment; Fanfulla knew that if he did not seize the instant, her returning light might discover him, and approached so gently that the lady was not aware of his presence till he was close to her. When she turned her head to look at him, the youth bending gracefully in act of reverence knelt on one knee at her feet and taking her hand raised it to his lips; thus concealing his visage so completely that the daughter of Gonsalvo dreamed not of doubting that Fieramosca was before her.

"She attempted to withdraw her hand, but it was retained with gentle violence; the maiden's fancy was capricious, and it may be easily credited that finding herself alone with the knight, she should experience some timid remorse for having invited the encounter, or fear blame should she be discovered there by her father, or her severer friend.

"A breath of wind wafted the cloud from the face of the moon; a flood of clear light fell upon the spot, and on the brilliant attire of Fanfulla and Elvira. Perhaps neither of them perceived it, but a thrilling shriek in a female voice, that came from the water at the bottom of the terrace, startled them suddenly, and recollecting that others from the ball room might be drawn by alarm to the spot, they hastened to reenter the hall by different passages, where the few persons who had heard or heeded the mysterious cry, took no notice of them. The first shriek had been followed by another more feeble, half smothered in the throat of the sufferer, and was succeeded by a noise as of a human body falling on the bottom of a boat; but the balcony was deserted; within all were

intent on festivity, and none troubled themselves about the unfortunate being who thus implored help."

While these things were happening at the castle, the boat that carried Fieramosca and his companions, urged onwards by seven strong men, flew over the waters towards the island of the convent. They meet a boat guided by a single person, on the way towards the city, but Hector's impatience will not permit them to pause and examine it, though had he done so, future misfortunes might have been averted. They encounter Michel and his crew carrying off a lady, and rescue her, after a short contest, in which Hector is slightly wounded. He uncovers the lady's face, it is Zoraida! Tortured by his uncertainty respecting Ginevra's fate, he hastens to the island, and ascending the staircase, seeks her in her chamber, but she has disappeared, and the whole island is in a state of the most profound quiet. Fieramosca finds himself sinking from the effect of his wound, which was from a poisoned dagger; feeling his strength fail, he despatches his companions to the town to search after Ginevra, while he is taken in charge as a patient by the skilful and assiduous Zoraida, who possessed, like other eastern maidens, some knowledge of medicine. In the midst of his agonizing anxiety, his pain is increased by the remembrance of the approaching combat, to which he is pledged in common with the other champions, who were all bound by a solemn vow not to expose themselves to any risk or wounds, lest their default should bring shame upon Italian valour.

"I am disgraced for ever! The challenge! Zoraida-the challenge! it wants but a few days, and I am reduced to such a pass that I shall not be able to bear arms in a month. O God! for what great sin is this wound fallen upon me?'

"The damsel knew not how to answer to this speech, but rather than of what pertained to battles she thought of the present danger of him who was so dear to her; danger which her experience convinced her was every moment increasing. The moment of intense excitement was followed by a lethargy; he sank back, his head reclined on the pillow; the veins of his neck appeared convulsed, and Zoraida looking at the wound, found the appearance of inflammation much increased."

The fever produced by the poisoned wound mounts to his head, and after raving deliriously awhile, fancying his gentle nurse now transformed into the likeness of La Motta, now into that of Grajano, and Valentino, and calling franticly upon his lost Ginevra, the unfortunate knight sinks into insensibility.

We are next introduced to Borgia, alone in his chamber, in the lower part of the castle. He receives a characteristic letter from Pope Alexander his father, which makes us shudder at the cold atrocious villany in the characters of both. He falls asleep on his couch; his dream presents to his mind the phantoms of a guilty conscience, and is vividly described. The bell strikes three; the hour appointed for the wicked attempt of his agents; Borgia hears the same shriek that had startled Elvira and Fanfulla on the balcony, and finds that it proceeded from a small boat that has floated within reach. He finds in it the insensible body of a female and carries her into his

"At length, a profound sigh burst from her bosom, lifting the drapery that covered her. She opened her eyes for a moment, and immediately closed them; opened them again, and again, then fixed them steadily on the face she saw above her. But she saw it it only with her outward sense, the mind received no idea from the sight; nor could her eyes remain long fixed on that hateful countenance. She turned them away with a languid motion that would have excited compassion in any one else. As her senses gradually returned, the first thought that struck her was the recollection of Fieramosca on the terrace, at the feet of Donna Elvira.

"O Hector!' cried she, faultering, then it was true, and I am betrayed by thee!' and pressing her clasped hands on her eyes and brow, she paused; the lip of Borgia, at that name, was curled with a malignant smile.

"Ginevra then recollected that she should be in the boat, and lifting herself on her elbow with intent to rise, felt the bed beneath her, gazed around her terrified, and seeing the Duke, uttered a cry which was stifled by his hand, as he, grasping her throat, compelled her to lie down again.

"Do not shriek, Ginevra,' said Valentino, you would waste your breath; I am very glad to have found you, and will save you the trouble of a journey at this hour. You did not seek me-eh! What would you?'

"His victim heard these words with a shudder that took away her breath. Not having seen the Duke for a long time, she did not recognise him; but her horror arose from some confused reminiscence connected with that face. Conscious of her helpless. ness, she only said, Signor, who are you? Have compassion on me! Let me go~' "Dost remember, Ginevra, in Rome,' said the Duke, what thou didst to one who loved thee and would have poured at thy feet miracles of gifts and caresses! Dost remember that thou heapedst on him what would have been insults to a stable boy? that thou didst laugh to scorn his love, didst spurn his proffers, didst robe thyself in a pride too lofty even for a queen? Know'st thou him? I am he. Know'st who I am? I am CÆSAR BORGIA.'

"That name fell like a mass of lead into the heart of Ginevra, to stifle every hope; she, therefore, without reply, looked at the Duke, trembling, as she would have regarded a tiger that had her in his claws, whose fury she could never hope to soften by words.

"Now you know me,' pursued the Duke, think if you can hope compassion from me. Yet I can bend myself to forego the vengeance I can and ought to execute. But with a compact, Ginevra; that is reasonable.'

"These words could not but awaken in the bosom of the unfortunate lady a spark of hope, and with clasped hands, striving not to show in her face the horror she felt, she besought him, as worshippers beseech the cross, not to oppress a woman already too desolate and unhappy.

"I implore you, Signor, by that day in which even you, though so powerful on earth, must stand a naked soul in the presence of the Judge Eternal! If there was ever woman dear to you, say, if in strange hands she besought mercy in vain, if your mother, if your sister were in my strait, imploring and imploring vainly, would you not cry for vengeance to heaven, against those who wronged her?'

66

These words, associating the idea of virtue and honour with the names of Vannozza and of Lucretia Borgia, moved somewhat the laughter of Valentino. His smile was a horrible one, which increased the fears of his victim; yet she continued her prayer, her voice faltering, so that it was difficult amid her sobs to distinguish her words. I am a wretched woman, what good, what glory can a mighty lord like you find in revenge on me? Who knows that a moment may not come, when the remembrance of mercy shown to me shall be as balm to your soul?" But to paint all the woe, the anguish, the desperation of the hapless lady, in finding herself in so terrible a strait-to describe her tears-her prayers-and, finally her frantic shrieks and maniac imprecations, would be impossible, and would offer to our readers a picture too horrible. Enough to say-her doom was fixed and irrevocable."

Michel arrives unsuccessful in his enterprise, accompanied by Pietraccio among his companions. They depart in the boat; Borgia with them, Pietraccio in revenge for the death of a mother, attempts the life of the infamous Duke; but is slain by his hand and thrown overboard. Heaven has reserved to a more distant period the punishment of this demon in human form. Meanwhile Inigo and Brancaleone return to the castle, and relate all that has happened to Gonsalvo; search is made for the hapless lady, who is at length discovered in Borgia's chamber.

"Ginevra was lying in a species of lethargy, induced by her unparalleled sufferings; an entire prostration of all strength; she could not be said to be insensible, nor yet conscious; if an arm was moved, or her head, she suffered it passively, and seemed not to notice it. Her eyes opened naturally, but they were lustreless, and moved about without looking at any thing. Victoria Colonna saw that her condition though it seemed calm, was the more alarming; that there was not a moment to lose; and dismissing the men, summoned her women, who brought spirits and cordials, that restored in a short time the life apparently ready to be extinguished.

"The first sign she gave of returning sense, was in gazing about her a moment with a terrified air, then springing eagerly from the bed in the attempt to fly; but her weakness was so great, she would have fallen had not the arm of Victoria supported her, and with gentle force drawn her to the couch.

"O God!' cried she, at length, and you also? You seem to me a noble lady; you are young and fair; yet will you not have pity on me?'

"Believe me,' said Victoria, taking her hand and touching it with her lips, we and all who are in this castle, are at your service, to aid or defend you; compose yourself for the love of heaven; you must fear no one here.'

"Well, if it is so,' said Ginevra, starting again from the couch, let me-let me go!'

"Victoria believing that her desire of flight arose from vacillation of mind, seeing her so weak and so disordered, would have persuaded her to have patience; but her horror of the place had become a madness, and she continued weeping— Madonna! for the love of God and the holy Virgin, I ask nothing more than to be removed from this place! throw me into the sea, into the flames, but take me from this place! It shall be little trouble I will give you-a draught of water, for I am burning with thirst-and let me speak a few words with Fra Mariano of San

She is removed to another chamber, confesses to the priest, and relates the cause of her misfortune, her agitation at seeing Hector at Elvira's feet. Under the pious counsel of the good father, she gradually conquers her earthly feelings so far as to forgive her unconscious rival, and desires to see her. Victoria summons the young lady from her bedchamber, to which she had just retired, not at all pleased with her evening's amusement-to the side of the dying.

"The beauty of the lady Elvira had never been so striking even when her dress was arranged with the most ostentatious care, as it now appeared in the disorder that suffered her long golden tresses to float unconfined over her neck and shoulders. Fra Mariano dropped his eyes; and poor Ginevra on seeing her, felt an internal shudder, and breathed a sigh to which the good priest could not refuse compassion. The three females thus remained silent for some minutes, after which, Ginevra, raising herself a little, said,

"Signora, you will wonder why I have been so bold as to disturb you, not knowing, or being known to you; but all is pardoned to one in my condition. I must ask your permission before speaking more openly; may I speak freely? Whatever your answer may be, it will shortly be buried with me in the grave. Shall I speak in presence of this lady, or would you rather we were alone?'

"Oh,' answered Elvira, this is my most intimate friend; who loves me better than I deserve; therefore say on, cara mia signora, I have come to hear you.'

"If so—and you have given me leave, I would only ask this question-'

"But at this point, when gathering strength to say what she knew not how to begin, she stopped for a moment. Her resolution to pardon her who had been the cause of so much suffering, was fixed in her heart with all sincerity; but who would be so severe as to impute it as a crime to the unhappy lady, that, at the moment she was to become certain that her eyes had not deceived her, and that the youth seen at the feet of Donna Elvira was really Hector-she should feel an invincible reluctance to acquire this certainty? Who could condemn her if she yet nourished an indefinite hope of having been mistaken, and of being convinced that Hector was yet faithful to his former feelings?

"At last, she said resolutely, and in clear and distinct tones:

"Tell me, then, and pardon that I venture to ask so much-were you not yesterday evening on the balcony that overlooks the sea-at the hour of three, and was not Hector Fieramosca at your feet?'

"This question, equally direct and unexpected, struck both, though with different emotions; the face of Elvira became crimson, and she stood without power to utter a syllable. Ginevra, looking fixedly at her, understood all, felt a chill at her heart, and resumed with a changed voice:

"Signora, I am too bold. I know it--but seeI am dying—and I pray you by the forgiveness we all hope in another world-deny me not this grace; answer me. Were you was it he?'

"Donna Elvira almost doubted her senses; she turned a timid look to Victoria, who, reading in her eyes, that she dreaded her displeasure, and conscious

"Ginevra felt herself sinking, and in uncertainty; she stretched her trembling hands towards the damsel, and with a voice that might be called desperate, "Tell me,' said she.

place' destined for the judges, on unequal ground covered with fresh herbage, and groups of sturdy oaks, with trunks wreathed with ivy, in the full vigour of rich vegetation. The nocturnal mists rent asunder by the breeze of morning, sailed away into the upper

"Yes-we were-'

"The face of the unhappy invalid underwent a change as if it had been suddenly contracted; with difficulty she raised herself so as to sit in bed, took Elvira by the hand, and drawing her towards her, threw her arms around her neck, crying— God bless you then-and make you happy!'

"The last words were scarce uttered, perhaps not quite articulated, when the released spirit was receiv. ing in heaven the reward of the most arduous victory woman can obtain over herself, forgiveness the most difficult and magnanimous, a human heart can grant.

"Her arms that had been twined about the neck of the daughter of Gonsalvo, relaxed, and she fell back on the bed. Her countenance assumed that moment the appearance and hue of death; the two ladies remarked it, and uttered a cry of dismay. The priest stood some minutes as if breathless, at last joining his hands, and kneeling all three, he prayed for the repose of the soul that needed rest so much, and had deserved it so well. He crossed her hands upon her breast, placed a lamp at her feet, and uttered the blessing Requiescat in pace,' now in his heart praying for her, now imploring her intercession as a soul he believed already admitted into paradise, he led the two ladies from that melancholy place, and returning to the side of the dead, passed in prayer the hours that remained of the night.'

The author has but done justice to his heroine, since her love, bestowed as it was, though involuntarily, on another than her husband, could not be called proper-in affording her an occasion for so signal a triumph over her feelings. The spirited details of the combat, which occupy the remainder of the volume, remove the impression of horror, perhaps too unmitigated, which is left by the preceding events. Fieramosca is saved by Zoraida's skill, and enabled to appear in the lists with the other combatants. The solicitude of his friends conceals from him the fate of Ginevra till the important contest is over; they assure him she is safe, in the care of the Colonna, and of the Grand Captain's household. He writes a letter to her to be delivered in case of his death on the ensuing day, and buoyant with hope goes forth to the conflict which is to vindicate the honour of his countrymen. The descriptions of the actors and events of that day are highly graphic. The following extract describes the field, not far from Burletta.

"It was a noble spectacle to see so rich a rural picture enlivened with such a multitude full of motion and life; on the right hand, huge oaks lifting themselves towards heaven, the deep green of their foliage mingled with the lighter and gayer verdure of small trees and shrubs; upon a more distant plain, the field of Quarato, on which was seen only the fortified gate of a tower, built in front of the rocks, at whose feet meandered the road, and beyond, the shore of the Adriatic, the city and castle of Burletta, its painted edifices shining above the blue bosom of the sea;still further off, the island of St. Ursula, the high peaks of Gargano, and the line of the horizon; to

clouds, that smote by the sunbeams, shone like masses of gold. Piles of denser clouds rested lightly on the edge of the horizon, over them rising here and there the tops of the loftiest trees, or the crest of some mountain. The sun, about to rise from the sea, sent his rich light through the heavens, though it touched as yet no terrestrial object. The eyes of all the spectators were turned almost involuntarily towards the east; upon the line of the sea appeared a point of intense radiance; it grew broader and broader, and presently emerged the majestic sun, like a globe of fire, spreading abroad his rays, which gave form and colour to every object, and were tinged with the tremulous reflection from the bosom of the waves."

We had marked for extraction a description of the accoutrements of the combatants, and of the engage. ment, but our limits already cry-" hold-enough!" The Italians are completely victorious; the French champions being all taken prisoners, with the excep tion of the recreant Grajano d'Asti, who is left dead on the field. Fieramosca, who has vanquished La Motta and some of the most redoubted warriors with his single arm, is full of joyful anticipations, now that the sole impediment to his marriage with Ginevra is removed. He seeks her at St. Ursula; not finding her in her apartments, passes into the chapel, and descending into the vault sees her corpse, over which the priests are performing the funeral rites. Stopified with grief and horror, he suffers himself to be led passively from the spot by Fra Mariano; then spring. ing on his horse that stood at the gate, and spurring him to his utmost speed, quickly disappears. From that period, says the story, he was seen no more by his friends; though the tale of an armed cavalier seen upon the summit of inaccessible rocks, was after. wards current among the superstitious peasantry, and the mouldered skeletons of a man and horse were many years after found by a fisherman in a bed of rocks at the base of Mount Gargano.

Such is the main story; there are besides, many episodical incidents connected with individuals whose names we have merely mentioned. The narrative is interesting; the descriptions picturesque, and the scenes well contrasted. The picture of the manners of the times is vivid, and correct so far as our anti. quarian knowledge extends, though too minutely detailed. The characters are not so strongly indivi dualized as in Marco Visconti; they are rather sketched than accurately painted. The hero's want of strongly marked traits may, however, be owing to the unfortunate circumstances in which the author has placed him; though passive, he is bold, noble and honourable. Ginevra is more of an abstraction than the lady Elvira; though even she is far from realizing the ideal of a noble Spanish maiden. The picture of Borgia is probably true to history, and that is enough. The chief fault of the story is the uniform melancholy of its details; but that will scarcely be regarded as a fault by Italian readers; the pensive and sentimental forming an agreeable variety in the light literature of so gay a people. It is the cloud which relieves the eye in an ever brilliant heaven.