member all.-O, God! take back thy gift-the light of reason, and send me madness as thy choicest blessing; curse me not with this hideous power of memory, which now lights up my brain, and bids me but despair, now and for ever. My wife-the mother of my children, -dead-dead;-and I, her murderer, alive to tell it!"-He snatched a dagger from his breast as he spoke, then dashing it fiercely on the floor, continued ; "No, let me live on-my food shall be revenge, on him and all his race. Oh! I yet shall wash my feet in the damned traitor's blood;-saddle my fleetest horse-I will this instant to the Florentine camp ;-you, Conrad, shall alone attend me. Yet, ere we go, let me behold her once more-light me to her chamber."

So saying, he rushed out of the apartment.

In a spacious lofty chamber, whose walls had been hastily hung around with black cloth, lay the ill-fated daughter of Bernabo Visconti; the body, which was wrapt in white, had been placed on a couch, at the foot of which stood

two guards, each bearing a torch; and the richly ornamented bed, with its lofty canopy of crimson and gold, formed a melancholy contrast with the gloomy livery of the chamber walls. A large silver crucifix stood at the head of the couch; and a number of female domestics crowded around, and testified by their tears and broken whispers, how much they bewailed the mistress they had lost. One young girl knelt by the bedside, and with her face buried in the bedclothes, sobbed aloud.

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Hush, Theresa," at length said one of the elder domestics; 66 you must not make so much noise; remember it was by our master's orders that the Lady Agnes died."

"And if he heard me, I care not," replied Theresa, in a broken voice; "I would not mind if he killed me too, now that the Lady Agnes is gone. O, my sweet mistress !"

Here her grief found vent in another passionate flood of tears, and the elder domestic, waiting until the violence of her emotion had subsided, continued: "You attended our mistress in her last moments, did you not, Theresa?"

"O yes—such a sight! I know not how I have survived it.”

"Come, let us hear all about it."

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Nay, for the world I could not."

"Come, Theresa, do not be so obstinate."

"Well then, you know, that after she received the sentence, she never shed a tear; but told me to light her to the children's room-and she kissed the two eldest as they slept-then she took the youngest infant in her arms, and clasped it to her bosom, till the little innocent awoke ; then looking in its face, she said, 'Remember, Nina, when you come to be a woman, you must never marry;' and oh! to see how the sweet darling smiled, and shook its little head. She then laid it in its cradle, and covered it with kisses, and her eyes glistened for the first time, as we left the room. Then returning to her chamber, she knelt before the Madonna, which hangs over her bed, and prayed in silence. At last, hearing the guard on the outside, she quietly rose, and motioned to me to open the door. She took me by the arm, and walked firmly along the corridor before two guards, till

we reached the inner court, where there was a block covered with cloth, ready prepared, and the executioner with a mask, and two men with lights; then saying, 'Theresa, tell your master I forgive him,' she laid her head on the block, as quietly as it had been her own pillow-I saw no more-a deadly sickness came over me—I heard a stunning blow, and fell senseless on the ground by the side of my murdered mistress." "O night of horror!" exclaimed the older domestic.

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Maddalina," said another, "did you never hear that none of Bernabo Visconti's children have died in the course of nature ?-their father, you know, poisoned his elder brother, to get his share of the heritage."

"Hush, Elfrida," said her companion, pointing to the door.

As she spoke, a quick hasty step was heard outside the chamber, and the listening group instinctively drew back as the door was opened, and Gonzaga with his rich dress soiled and disordered, entered the room. He cast a hurried glance around him, then dashing his jewelled

cap on the floor, advanced and knelt down by the side of the couch. He continued for some time motionless, as if in prayer; then rising slowly, bent in silence over her face, which alone was left uncovered, and tears, which had hitherto denied to him, fell fast down his cheeks. At length, rising to his full height, he unsheathed his sword, and holding it aloft, looked steadily upwards, and said aloud, “Here, in the sight both of God and man, do I swear to avenge this innocent blood on the head of him who caused it to be shed; never shall this sword return to its scabbard till I have dyed it in the blood of a Visconti!"

He once more bent down, and imprinting a kiss on her cold features, rushed sword in hand from the apartment.*

*

*The facts of this infernal plot, and the tragedy which followed, together with the confession of the secretary, extorted from him during the agony of torture, are related both by Muratori and Sismondi. Vide the latter, vol. vii. p. 342. Nothing can prove more strikingly the inefficacy of torture as a means of extracting truth.