head before struck conviction to her heart, that Nicolo Polani, his faithful servant, had also expiated his crime-if of any crime he had been guilty—with his life. Poor Carlina had known the worst-her last fond faithful hopes were crushed. Her senses returned; but she felt that she had nothing farther to do with life. Under the care, however, of her kind and attentive nurse, Rachele, she was cautiously removed, in a litter, to the house of Battista returned to Pisa, for the purpose of looking after his farm, and of apprising his neighbour, Polani, of the fate of his son; intending to come back to Venice immediately, to take his daughter her, in a fortunate yet fatal moment. Donato, galled by the unlooked for interruption, hastily drew his sword and wounded him in the arm; but Nicolo, with the huge branch of a tree, which he had caught up in his path, felled the ruffian to the ground, left him dead upon the spot, and bore off his Carlina in safety to her father's home. This was all, as it were, the event of a moment. That night, || and the succeeding day, Nicolo remained concealed. The report of the neighbour- || Galileo. hood was, that Donato had been set upon by banditti and slain. To stay at Pisa must have cost Nicolo his life, for the country was up in arms, and the sbirri were already in hot pursuit. Disguised, and under cover of the night, he fled-home so soon as her health might allow. towards Venice, as he purposed. Weeks passed away, and no tidings of him were heard. At length a whisper reached Battista, that Nicolo had attached himself to the service of Giustiniani, the heir of the illustrious house of that name. The next rumour was, that Giustiniani, charged || with treasonable practises against the state, had, with several of his domestics || and chief members of his household, been arrested and thrown into prison. A thousand fears and apprehensions racked the bosom of Carlina. It was impossible for her to remain longer in suspense. She resolved to set out in quest of her lover, to learn the worst-if possible, to restore her hopes, or to find them crushed for ever. Accompanied by her father, she left Pisa, traversed the country from Florence to Bologna, from Bologna through Ferrara, sometimes by land, and sometimes by water, till they reached Padua. There they hired a burchiello, and proceeded straight to Venice. On the instant of their arrival-even before they had landed-they learned that a state execution had just taken place - that Giustiniani was one of the victims. "Giustiniani !" exclaimed Galileo, with a cry of horror, "my own, my best, my dearest friend and patron!" Now, for the first time, Galileo became acquainted with the fatal events of the preceding night. It was too true, for him, that Giustiniani, one of the best, the bravest, the most generous of Venetian nobles, had fallen; it was too true, for Carlina, had not the sight of that ghastly On the day of his second arrival in the capital, Carlina had risen to receive him. Rachele had placed her in a cool and quiet apartment, fanned by the ocean breeze, and commanding a fair and delightful prospect. Her health had somewhat improved; but the native lustre of her eyethat "mysterious light "—was quenched; her lips were bloodless, and a deathlike paleness shaded her once-expressive brow. Battista and his daughter had met, and embraced. Rejoicing in the reported convalescence of Carlina, Galileo had joined them; and, while he was in friendly converse with Battista, before whom refreshments had been placed, at the close of his journey, Rachele, the old housekeeper, entered to announce the return of Gazano, a courier, from Rome. He had a sealed packet, he said, which he had been charged to deliver into the hands of no one but Galileo. Rachele, was, in consequence, desired to conduct him into the apartment. Gazano entered, exhausted by fatigue, and with the dust of travel still upon his clothes. Carlina involuntarily raised her eye towards the door, at the moment-a piercing shriek escaped her; it was like the shriek, but fainter, from a declension of physical strength, that she gave when her sight was blasted, and her heart withered, by the gory head of Nicolo on the Pietra del Bando! Battista's vision glanced from Carlina to Gazano-from Gazano to Carlina-he trembled-the blood forsook his cheek-Gazano, Galileo, Battista, Rachele, all fled to the spot where Carlina had fallen. Gazano raised her quickly- || Jacopo Polani, the elder brother of Batwildly-in his arms; strained her to his tista, had married and settled in a distant bosom-kissed her pale lips and forehead || province. For years, there had been no with passionate fondness-then raved in agonising madness of the death of his Carlina-his own beloved Carlina! The sealed packet had fallen upon the floor, and there it lay, untouched, unthought of by all. The only self-pos- || sessed individual present was Rachele; and, through her timely and considerate aid, animation and consciousness were again restored to Carlina. Ah! what unearthly mystery was this? Had the grave given up its dead? Was it indeed her own Nicolo-her preserver-her betrothed husband-who stood clothed in the flesh before her! The mystery was soon explained. Nicolo, the better to elude discovery, had, on his first arrival at Venice, assumed the name of Gazano Biondo. He had been employed by Galileo on a journey to Rome; and he had now brought thence a packet of much importance from his Holiness the Pope, relating to Galileo's discoveries in astronomical science. "But the head-the head of Nicolo Polani, on the Pietra del Bando?" That apparition, too, was accounted for without the aid of supernatural intervention. intercourse between these two branches of the Polani family-they had been hardly conscious of each other's existence; yet, by a common coincidence, each of the brothers had named his first-born after his own father, Nicolo; and, by a coincidence less common, the youths, it appeared, had borne a most striking family resemblance to each other. No wonder, then, that, for once, all quick and penetrating as are the eyes of love, those of Carlina should have been deceived, after death had done its worst on the features of Nicolo, the son of Jacopo Polani, whose devoted attachment to Giustiniani had brought him to an untimely end. What remains to be added, but that, through the intercession of Galileo, a free pardon was obtained for the surviving Nicolo-that the lovers were united-that they were happy and blessed in each other-and that they lived to see their children's children flourish around them? It is said that, even at this day, one of their descendants occupies the same little farm on the banks of the Arno, that was then occupied by Battista Paolo. THE VENETIAN MARRIAGE. From the Italian of Sartari: by one of the Authors of "The Odd Volume." Candlemas-day,* which was to crown his happiness, should arrive. He wandered towards the sea, and found there a tumultuous crowd on which the red glare of torches cast a wild and strange light, while many boats thronged around two ships, which had just cast anchor. The cry of "Hail, Oleastro!" rent the air, as a young man stepped on shore, and who, having taken a prize from the pirates, which he now brought with him, was greeted by his fellow-citizens with loud shouts. The youth wore a dark THE beautiful daughter of the Doge of || Lingia his- before the long-wished-for Venice, the accomplished Lingia, was betrothed to the noble Giacinto Morosini. "Be happy," said the Doge," and remember that the secret of being so in this sweet bond, is, never to feel that it is a bond." Giacinto threw his arms tenderly around his bride, and with beating hearts, but with silent lips, they sank at the feet of the Doge, who, laying his hands upon their heads, poured forth a fatherly benediction. It was new-year's eve, when Giacinto, intoxicated with happiness, left the magnificent palace of the Doge; yet, as he looked back on it, many varied feelings pressed on his heart, and a secret voice seemed to whisper that he had much to endure and to suffer, ere he could call It was a practice in those times, for the Venetian nobles to celebrate their nuptials on the high festival of Candlemas-day. habit, and his pale countenance shewed no sign of joy at the acclamations with which his return was welcomed. He was accompanied by a man whose looks betrayed a mixture of vice and boldness, and who, with marked courtesy, bowed to the crowd, and thanked them on the part of his silent companion. His glance fell on Giacinto, and he whispered something to the youth, who instantly fixed a penetrating look on him, and continued his gaze till they were separated by the throng. They took their way to the palace of the Doge, at whose feet Oleastro, and his companion Gualdunio, laid their trophies. With mild dignity, the Doge received him, pressed a kiss on his cheek, and promised in his country's name to reward him. "Victory," replied Oleastro, "is the conqueror's highest reward; but if you think that I am worthy of another, I will seek it of you, if you will to-morrow grant me a gracious hearing." On the following morning, Giacinto, agitated by an unaccountable disquietude, hastened to the palace of the Doge. Lingia came to meet him. "How is this?" exclaimed Morosini, in surprise, as he marked her tearful eyes, and felt her tremble in his embrace. "I have anxiously expected you," at length she replied; "beware of Marcello Oleastro: go, go; he is now with my father, and may immediately enter here." Scarcely had Giacinto left the antechamber, before Oleastro, his cheek glowing with indignation, rushed from the apartment of the Doge, and seizing Lingia's hand before she had time to escape, Lingia!" he exclaimed with vehemence, but his tone quickly sank, 66 Lingia, art thou indeed betrothed ?”— My father will have told you so; release me."-" Judge thou between us, Lingia: my heart, my happiness, my honour, my all-judge thou; yes, he has denied thee to me-a second time he has denied me. He has planted a dagger in my heart: for thee I have braved the wild seas; for thee, have I shed my blood; for I believed that the laurels of victory would gain thee for me."—" Go, go!" exclaimed she, in great agitation, "leave me."—" No, Lingia; my life, for one moment; a thousand lives for a single moment: answer me, Lingia; who is this Giacinto Morosini? I have never even heard his name; where are his wounds? Fame knows him not: see here; here has victory engraven my right to thee in ineffaceable lines;" and he pushed his cap from his brow, shewing a deep wound in his forehead, and vehemently clasped in his arms the half-fainting Lingia. A cry of terror escaped from her lips, and the Doge hastily entered the apartment. Oleastro pressed a burning kiss on her pale forehead, and retired with these words, "Reflect once more; for by this kiss I swear, my right to thee I never will resign." Lingia had scarcely reached her sixteenth year, when Marcello first sought her love. His noble birth, his wealth, his princely form, his dauntless bravery, won admiration and respect, although his proud bearing and imperious manner estranged many from him. Many fair Venetian dames lavished their smiles on the youth; but Lingia alone had power to kindle in his bosom an irresistible passion. The Doge observed it, but howsoever highly he honoured his bravery and noble qualities, still he was convinced that from his restlessness of disposition, his vehement and passionate nature, he could never make any woman happy. As soon as Lingia discovered that her father was not inclined to favour his suit, she avoided all opportunities of meeting with Oleastro; and as she carefully concealed her feelings in her own bosom, no one knew if he had made any impression on her heart. Shortly after, Marcello demanded her hand, which the Doge refused him, but with mildness and courtesy. In a transport of frenzy, Marcello swore that he must and would possess Lingia; and the Doge rejoiced when the impetuous youth, stimulated by his passion for glory, fitted out a galley and put to sea in search of the corsairs of Illyrica. But Marcello viewed this enterprise solely as the means by which he could found a new claim to Lingia's hand, and her image hovered around him, when, as a conqueror, he proudly trod the deck of his prize. In a fearful state of mind he returned from the palace of the Doge. He was met by Gualdunio, an unprincipled and impoverished noble, who had linked himself to the wealthy Oleastro, in order, by his assistance, to overturn the Govern ment, and who now received from him, under the influence of violent passion, full permission to act as he thought fit, on condition that his project did not interfere with his plans for obtaining possession of Lingia. One evening Giacinto proceeded to the palace of the Doge: before him was a guitar player, who, to the accompaniment of his instrument, sang an insulting ballad, which he evidently applied to him. Morosini in vain endeavoured to avoid him; the guitar-player always threw himself in his way. At length, irritated beyond endurance, Morosini tore the instrument from his hand, dashed it on the ground, and recognised in the troublesome musician, Gualdunio. At this moment Marcello, with his sword drawn, rushed forward exclaiming, "With me shalt thou contend for the possession of Lingia." The surprised Morosini had scarcely time to unsheath his weapon before he felt his arm disabled. A crowd rapidly collected round the combatants, and the Doge himself appeared, and in order to extinguish this feud in its birth, he sentenced Gleastro and Gualdunio to banishment from the states of the Republic. Oleastro rushed down to his ship, restored to freedom the son of the King of Narento, whom he had taken prisoner, on the condition that his father should instantly send forces to assist him in his enterprise against Venice. "We shall quickly warm ourselves at her flames,” exclaimed Blada, and on the following morning the ships put to sea. Some time after this, Morosini went to the island of Olivolo, where the bishop had his residence, and where the nuptials of the Venetian nobles were always solemnized. How did he rejoice to see the preparations for the approaching festival! It was late when he returned, the streets were silent and deserted, the sea roared tempestuously, when suddenly he heard a noise, and he faintly distinguished through the gloom, two persons struggling || with each other, one of whom, after a short resistance, fell backwards into the waves with a thrilling cry, and his antagonist quickly fled. With sword in hand Morosini pursued the fugitive, who was so fortunate as to escape without leaving any trace of him, except a piece of parchment, to which part of a seal was appended. He immediately No.76.-Vol. XIII. repaired to the Doge, and relating what had just occurred, placed the parchment before him, on which was distinctly written, "Reflect once more, Lingia: cast || not my name among those which history condemns; or woe, woe to Venice!Marcello Oleastro." The bridal day arrived: all hastened to the gondolas, whose many-coloured pennons waved gaily in the breeze; but a thick fog hung over the sea and obscured the sun. The little fleet glided swiftly along; cries of joy rent the air; but Lingia, full of anxious forebodings, pressed close to her bridegroom. Lingia stood before the altar; the deep tones of the organ filled the sacred pile; the bishop, with his train of priests, appeared, and already was the bride's ring in Morosini's hand, when there suddenly arose from without a sound as of a coming storm. Nearer and nearer it approached; the clang of weapons was heard, and with the cry of "victory," a number of Corsairs rushed into the church. Morosini laid his insensible bride in the bishop's arms, and now a furious combat began. Supported by several brave Venetians, Morosini fought his way through the thickest of the fight, and after a vain attempt to re-enter the church, he and his companions hurried on board a gondola, and endeavoured to gain the interior of the city. In the meanwhile, Marcello had penetrated to the altar, seized the insensible Lingia in his arms, and bore her towards his ship. "Thou shalt not again escape me," he exclaimed, as she opened her eyes; "requite then, my burning passion, which has caused me to sacrifice all to gain thee." Lingia answered not: she thought only of death. "Away!" exclaimed Oleastro to the pirates, "away! let us hasten to return whence we came.' Many of the noble bridegrooms had fallen in the church, and the barbarians spread themselves over every quarter of the city; but the Venetian youth thronged the streets, and prepared for defence.Of this band none excelled Morosini in promptitude and activity, and with one consent the Doge was named their leader. They took their way to the island of Olivolo, where numbers of the pirates fell a sacrifice to the outraged feelings of the Venetians. Gualdunio, habited as Doge, 2 E and accompanied by several of the con- everlasting torments." Stunned, he feil to the ground, and with a laugh of scorn prepared to seize the victim ; but Lingia's arm was quicker than his, and she cut asunder the thread of her life. Blada attempted to tear the jewels from her lifeless form, but Marcello sprang up, raised his sword, and struck one powerful blow, and the head of Blada rolled on the sand, and with wild cries the rest of the Corsairs fled. "Up! up!" said Oleastro, to some fettered Venetians, as he loosed their bonds; " pursue the Corsairs!" They quickly leapt into the nearest vessel, while Marcello, covering Lingia's body with a cloak, closed his vizor, cast his shield bearing his coat of arms into the sea, and rushed after the pirates. He quickly joined the Venetians in the pursuit, and Morosini was surprised to see the Italian knight. "To the rescue!” exclaimed he, as a Corsair with an oar splintered the helmet of the knight, who fell on the deck of the vessel. Morosini hastened hither, and opened the helmet of the wounded youth. "Curse me not," said Oleastro, with dying voice, to the speechless Morosini; "I am wounded to death: hasten to fetch thy Lingia's body from the strand; farewell."—“ Oh! grief,” exclaimed Morosini, "I too, am slain, yet have no wound." Three days after, Giacinto watched at the side of the bier on which his beloved lay; and it was only when the nobles brought to him the insignia of the Doge's high office, that he could be induced to leave the church. Some weeks after, the Venetians assembled to witness the ceremony of his espousing the ocean. He stepped forward on the ship, took the consecrated ring from his finger, held it up, and said, "Venetians! henceforth I belong to you alone; no wife, no child, shall share my duties; my time I consecrate to you-my eternity to her; Venice be mine, and the ocean the bride of Venice." He threw the ring from him, and it was engulphed by the swelling waves of the Adriatic. |