take away or to diminish the compassion of men, or the mercy of God for the poor soul of Isabella, but only to prove that the miserable death to which she was brought was the just recompense of her merits, or rather her demerits.

While Isabella was uttering the strange prayer which is partly given above, a knight of haughty aspect and bold presence advanced from the other end of the hall, and stood listening to her words; then softly approaching, said, "Isabella!"

The woman started at this sudden voice, her face grew paler, her lips moved without making a sound, her heavy eyelids fell, whilst the swelling of the veins produced a dark shade around her eyes. She would have fallen had not the knight hastened to support her. After a short silence he spoke:

"Isabella, you have something on your heart which you desire to conceal from me. Why is this, Isabella? Am I then so poor a friend that you do not deem me worthy to share your innocent secrets? Or do you believe me so eager for my own happiness, that I know not how to prefer, although with intense anguish, your peace and wishes to my own? Speak: I am ready to do anything for your love—give me but a word. Ah, miserable me! What need is there, Isabella, for you to speak? I have heard too much. Do you not believe in my courage? Let me prove it to you. You pray for my death, and I can, yes, I will unite my petition to yours; I will recall to my lips the sweetest prayer that my mother ever taught me. Isabella, kneel; I, you see, am kneeling."

And she, hardly knowing what she did, knelt; and both prayed.

These were no pure and peaceful prayers, such as ascend to Heaven like incense from innocent hearts, which the angels love to bear on their shining wings to the throne of the Eternal, received by God as celestial guests, and consoled, as if they were the troubled sons of His love. These prayers mounted from panting bosoms, disconnected and hurried, like delirious thrills of pleasure; they were wafted through the air, thick, like clouds arising from dark earthly sources; nor did they reach the threshold of Heaven, but fell repulsed, like the smoke from the offering of the first murderer, to increase the passion of the guilty ones.

It was right; for these prayers did not come sincerely from the heart, for he who offered them feared lest they might be heard, and scarcely were they spoken, ere he would have wished to revoke them. Oh, mortal mind, how unstable in the desire of good! Then the glowing cheeks touched, the convulsed hands sought and clasped each other, and the prayers ended in oaths to love each other for ever, in spite of sacred bonds, of family honor, of death, or hell. Indeed, so regardless of them were they, that they called as a witness to the wicked vow, our divine Mother, to whom they had intended to pray for safety; and the Mother of Mercy did not turn aside her face, convinced that if their prayers were then false, in the day of repentance she must listen, when they would be only too sincere.

Meanwhile justice registered the guilt in that book, where nothing is cancelled, except by blood.

Sir Anton Francesco Torelli was of one of the best families of the territory of Fermo;—endowed with the gifts of fortune, honored by his relations, respected by strangers, blessed with a lovely wife, and a son, in whom centred all the hopes of his declining years.

Happy would he have been if he had believed what is only too true, that the best instruction that children can receive, must be derived from the good examples of their parents: happy, if he had never sent from his home, his dear son Lelio! for his last steps towards the tomb would not have been embittered by sorrow. But, complying with the fashion of the times, he desired his son to be skilled in chivalric exercises, and the father's heart exulted in the hope that the noble ladies of Fermo might salute his son as the most accomplished and courteous nobleman of the land. With this idea, Sir Anton Francesco, having himself served a long time with the Cardinal dei Medici in Rome, thought he might easily instal his son Lelio as page in the court of the Grand Duke Cosimo. But Cosimo having died prematurely, worn out by the excessive love of pleasure, Lelio, a youth of elegant manners and fine figure, so pleased the Lady Isabella, Duchess of Bracciano, and daughter of Cosimo, that she obtained the handsome page for her own service.

In those times, noblemen serving at court, were required to learn the skilful management of all knightly weapons, to fight with the sword and dagger, and even to defend themselves unarmed from unexpected attacks with the stiletto or poniard; and there were some excellent books written about this art, which served also as a model to other nations. Nor did they neglect the practice of fire-arms, although that was not esteemed so noble an accomplishment; the management of horses they deemed indispensable, either in racing, tilting, or (more difficult still) curvetting before the ladies, then nice judges of such arts. Next in importance came dexterity in field-sports, among which stood foremost that of hawking, now fallen into disuse, or only kept up in Holland. To tell the truth, the knights made a show of admiring belles-lettres, but not the severer productions of the pen, nor those which spring new and vivid from the imagination warmed by the heart, but rather those arranged according to accepted formulas, and mutilated in usum Delphini; which composed the delights of the courtiers whom experience or fear had taught to touch carefully such dangerous matters. Justice, however, forbids us to let pass unnoticed some writer, who, kindled by the last panting breath of the Republic, dared to write, if not powerfully, at least conscientiously; but the last breath soon expires, the writer became silent, and bowed his head to fate. There were others, who wrote the truth, but dared not publish it, as if they had wished to constitute their remote descendants the heirs of their revenge; and, as it seems, the descendants opened the will, but reading what the inheritance was, thought best to refuse the legacy. The arts and sciences, however, were better received, particularly chemistry, for the purpose of making poisons, of which the men of those times, and the Medicis in particular, became very skilful manufacturers, and by what we read about it, we see that modern researches fall far short of ancient toxicology. Michael Angelo, immortal monument of human dignity, and eternal witness to the truth, that man was created in the image of