the object of us all. I have undertaken to chastise him; he will perish. But ere that, give me a legal title to become her avenger; I love Clorinia as my own soul; unite our hands ere she breathes her last sigh. Thus, too, will her reputation not suffer; and you will not owe to a stranger that satisfaction to which you are entitled."

Without hesitation the father, as well as the son, accepted the proposal; they extolled his honourable feeling, and expressed gratitude for the noble manner in which he had stepped forward to obviate all unpleasant remarks that might affect the poor girl's reputation. The old man, weeping, took his way to his daughter's bedside; and a delightful smile played over her countenance when she heard what was requested. She signified her assent amidst tears of mingled bitterness and joy. She declared that she should die contented as the wife of Dorido; she inquired eagerly if he were at the house, and if she might be permitted to see and speak to him. This, as the fever appeared to have left her, it was conceived might not prove injurious to her; he approached; but so great was the sudden joy she experienced on beholding him that she fell into a swoon, from which it was some time before she recovered. The surgeon upon this gave strict injunctions. that the lovers should not be permitted to speak to each other; but their looks sufficiently told what they felt and suffered. Observing that his presence appeared to afford her relief, he did not leave her during the remainder of the day. In the evening a

priest and a notary were called in, and the marriage ceremony was performed before the assembled and weeping family.

For the two ensuing days feeble hopes were entertained of her life. She seemed to rally, and even the surgeon no longer despaired; but all were disappointed. On the third day, a fresh access of fever, of a more rapid and violent character, seized on the patient, and left not the remotest chance. As her last hour drew nigh, Dorido, perceiving that the event must occur, secretly withdrew, and set about the means of his premeditated revenge. He sought Horazio in every spot, and at length meeting with him, he took him cordially by the hand, and, as if quite unsuspicious of any crime attaching to him, he carelessly asked if he would come and sup with him that evening, to which Horazio consented, conceiving that as he had heard no public notice made of the atrocious deed, the lady was either recovering, or his friend unacquainted with her misfortune. At the appointed hour Horazio went, as he had been accustomed, to join his friend, and both were soon seated opposite each other at the table. Dorido had, however, taken care that the wine should be well drugged; and such was its potent effect that in a very little time Horazio found himself overpowered, and fell into a deep slumber.

It was now that Dorido, assisted by his two valets, wholly devoted to his interest, bound the sleeper both hand and foot; they next slipped a cord round his neck, and with this and another passed round his

body they fastened him up to a pillar which stood in the apartment. Having before closed all the doors in the house, they now proceeded to administer antidotes to his lethargy, which speedily recalled the unhappy wretch to a sense of his situation.

The moment he found himself awake did the dreadful truth flash conviction and horror to the soul of the assassin, he knew in a moment wherefore he was there and what he had to expect. He did more he confessed his heinous crime, while he implored compassion and mercy in accents of bitter sincerity, such as only the love of life even in a convict can inspire. But here they were all in vain; steeled to the heart's core, the lover and the husband-bereaved so barbarously of his charming mistress listened to his prayers and cries with mockery, his imagination being still haunted with the picture of his dying wife. Bent upon inflicting retributive justice, he proceeded to sever with an axe the hands of the wretched Horazio; and while still in all the agonies of approaching dissolution, he commanded his valets to strangle him with the rope that bound him to the fatal pillar. Then having hung the two dissevered members round the neck of the corpse, he directed them to bear it to the exact spot where the fatal deed had been committed, and on the same fearful night, unable to support the idea of life in a place connected with so many horrors, he took his departure from Rome. Pursuit was vain, it is not even known what route he took, to what country he has flown; but I have been

assured that the unfortunate Clorinia breathed her last about three hours after he disappeared.

Here the Neapolitan gentleman paused; no one spoke. A story altogether of so tragic a nature seemed to have made a deep impression upon the ambassador, no less than upon all present who had listened to it, and who most unfeignedly deplored the fate of the unhappy lady. They also blamed Dorido in no measured terms, while the whole agreed, on reflecting further on the subject, that in the conduct of both these Spanish cavaliers there appeared a spirit of revenge, and a reckless daring -a savage love of blood, in no way compatible with the character of the true knight or of the true Christian.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

GUZMAN LEAVES ROME, AND ARRIVES AT HIS FRIEND POMPEY'S HOUSE AT SIENNA, WHERE HE HEARS

BAD NEWS.

THE day subsequent to this sad catastrophe, which was the general subject of conversation in Rome, I took my leave of that city, well mounted, but poorer, alas! than I imagined. Assuming a consequential air, and anticipating much pleasure, I

proceeded towards Sienna, where I imagined my friend Pompey would be most anxiously expecting me. Having arrived there, I repaired straightway to his house.

He was at home, and received me in a civil manner, though not without evident embarrass

ment.

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Signor Pompey," said I, embracing him, “your friend Guzman can scarcely express his extreme joy at being at length introduced to your personal acquaintance."

My very name seemed to astonish him.

"How," answered he with surprise, "can you be that Guzman to whom I am under so many and such great obligations?"

I was almost frozen by these words, for I knew they could portend no good.

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"For what possible reason,” cried I with emotion, can you be so much astonished at seeing me?" "You will soon know that to your cost," replied the merchant. "I see plainly that I have been duped, and that you are in reality that Guzman d'Alfarache whom I expected."

These words were like a thunderbolt to me, and I instantly foresaw that some accident had happened to my property. Impatient to discover the truth, I entreated Pompey to explain himself more clearly.

"Well, then," said he, "you must know that there has passed through Sienna a cavalier calling himself gentleman to the Spanish ambassador, who came hither from Rome, followed by two servants, on his