"In the heat of conversation they lingered near me, and I had full
opportunity to contemplate her. Scarcely, however, had I cast my eyes
upon her companion, but even her beauty was not powerful enough to fix
my attention. He appeared to be a man still in the prime of life,
rather slight, and of a tall, noble figure. Never have I beheld so much
mind, so much noble expression, in a human countenance. Though
perfectly secured from observation, I was unable to meet the lightning
glance that shot from beneath his dark eyebrows. There was a moving
expression of sorrow about his eyes, but an expression of benevolence
about the mouth which relieved the settled gravity spread over his whole
countenance. A certain cast of features, not quite European, together
with his dress, which appeared to have been chosen with inimitable good
taste from the most varied costumes, gave him a peculiar air, which not
a little heightened the impression produced by his appearance. A degree
of wildness in his looks warranted the supposition that he was an
enthusiast, but his deportment and carriage showed that his character
had been formed by mixing in society."

Z--------, who you know must always give utterance to what he thinks,
could contain himself no longer. "Our Armenian!" cried he. "Our very
Armenian, and nobody else."

"What Armenian, if one may ask?" inquired Civitella.

"Has no one told you of the farce?" replied the prince. "But no
interruption! I begin to feel interested in your hero. Pray continue
your narrative."

"There was something inexplicable in his whole demeanor," continued
Civitella. "His eyes were fixed upon his companion with an expression
of anxiety and passion, but the moment they met hers he looked down
abashed. 'Is the man beside himself!' thought I. I could stand for
ages and gaze at nothing else but her.

"The foliage again concealed them from my sight. Long, long did I look
for their reappearance, but in vain. At length I caught sight of them
from another window.

"They were standing before the basin of a fountain at some distance
apart, and both wrapped in deep silence. They had, probably, remained
some time in the same position. Her clear and intelligent eyes were
resting inquiringly on his, and seemed as if they would imbibe every
thought from him as it revealed itself in his countenance. He, as if he
wanted courage to look directly into her face, furtively sought its
reflection in the watery mirror before him, or gazed steadfastly at the
dolphin which bore the water to the basin. Who knows how long this
silent scene might have continued could the lady have endured it? With
the most bewitching grace the lovely girl advanced towards him, and
passing her arm round his neck, raised his hand to her lips. Calmly and
unmoved the strange being suffered her caresses, but did not return
them.

"This scene moved me strangely. It was the man that chiefly excited my
sympathy and interest. Some violent emotion seemed to struggle in his
breast; it was as if some irresistible force drew him towards her, while
an unseen arm held him back. Silent, but agonizing, was the struggle,
and beautiful the temptation. 'No,' I thought, 'he attempts too much;
he will, he must yield.'

"At his silent intimation the young negro disappeared. I now expected
some touching scene--a prayer on bended knees, and a reconciliation
sealed with glowing kisses. But no! nothing of the kind occurred. The
incomprehensible being took from his pocketbook a sealed packet, and
placed it in the hands of the lady. Sadness overcast her face as she
she looked at it, and a tear bedewed her eye.

"After a short silence they separated. At this moment an elderly lady
advanced from one of the sidewalks, who had remained at a distance, and
whom I now first discovered. She and the fair girl slowly advanced
along the path, and, while they were earnestly engaged in conversation,
the stranger took the opportunity of remaining behind. With his eyes
turned towards her, he stood irresolute, at one instant making a rapid
step forward, and in the next retreating. In another moment he had
disappeared in the copse.

"The women at length look round, seem uneasy at not finding him, and
pause as if to await his coming. He comes not. Anxious glances are
cast around, and steps are redoubled. My eyes aid in searching through
the garden; he comes not, he is nowhere to be seen.

"Suddenly I see a plash in the canal, and see a gondola moving from the
shore. It is he, and I scarcely can refrain from calling to him. Now
the whole thing is clear--it was a parting.

"She appears to have a presentiment of what has happened. With a speed
that her companion cannot use she hastens to the shore. Too late!
Quick as the arrow in its flight the gondola bounds forward, and soon
nothing is visible but a white handkerchief fluttering in the air from
afar. Soon after this I saw the fair incognita and her companion cross
the water.

"When I awoke from a short sleep I could not help smiling at my
delusion. My fancy had incorporated these events in my dreams until
truth itself seemed a dream. A maiden, fair as an houri, wandering
beneath my windows at break of day with her lover--and a lover who did
not know how to make a better use of such an hour. Surely these
supplied materials for the composition of a picture which might well
occupy the fancy of a dreamer! But the dream had been too lovely for me
not to desire its renewal again and again; nay, even the garden had
become more charming in my sight since my imagination had peopled it
with such attractive forms. Several cheerless days that succeeded this
eventful morning drove me from the window, but the first fine evening
involuntarily drew me back to my post of observation. Judge of my
surprise when after a short search I caught sight of the white dress of
my incognita! Yes, it was she herself. I had not dreamed!

"Her former companion was with her, and led by the hand a little boy;
but the fair girl herself walked apart, and seemed absorbed in thought.
All spots were visited that had been rendered memorable by the presence
of her friend. She paused for a long time before the basin, and her
fixed gaze seemed to seek on its crystal mirror the reflection of one
beloved form.

"Although her noble beauty had attracted me when I first saw her the
impression produced was even stronger on this occasion, although perhaps
at the same time more conducive to gentler emotions. I had now ample
opportunity of considering this divine form; the surprise of the first
impression gradually gave place to softer feelings. The glory that
seemed to invest her had departed, and I saw before me the loveliest of
women, and felt my senses inflamed. In a moment the resolution was
formed that she must be mine.

"While I was deliberating whether I should descend and approach her, or
whether before I ventured on such a step it would not be better to
obtain information regarding her, a door opened in the convent wall,
through which there advanced a Carmelite monk. The sound of his
approach roused the lady, and I saw her advance with hurried steps
towards him. He drew from his bosom a paper, which she eagerly grasped,
while a vivid color instantaneously suffused her countenance.

"At this moment I was called from the window by the arrival of my usual
evening visitor. I carefully avoided approaching the spot again as I
had no desire to share my conquest with another. For a whole hour I was
obliged to endure this painful constraint before I could succeed in
freeing myself from my importunate guest, and when I hastened to the
window all had disappeared.

"The garden was empty when I entered it; no vessel of any kind was
visible in the canal; no trace of people on any side; I neither knew
whence she had come nor whither she had gone. While I was looking round
me in all directions I observed something white upon the ground. On
drawing near I found it was a piece of paper folded in the shape of a
note. What could it be but the letter which the Carmelite had brought?
'Happy discovery!' I exclaimed; 'this will reveal the whole secret, and
make me master of her fate.'

"The letter was sealed with a sphinx, had no superscription, and was
written in cyphers; this, however, did not discourage me, for I have
some knowledge of this mode of writing. I copied it hastily, as there
was every reason to expect that she would soon miss it and return in
search of it. If she should not find it she would regard its loss as an
evidence that the garden was resorted to by different persons, and such
a discovery might easily deter her from visiting it again. And what
worse fortune could attend my hopes.

"That which I had conjectured actually took place, and I had scarcely
ended my copy when she reappeared with her former companion, anxiously
intent on the search. I attached the note to a tile which I had
detached from the roof, and dropped it at a spot which she would pass.
Her gracefully expressed joy at finding it rewarded me for my
generosity. She examined it in every part with keen, searching glances,
as if she were seeking to detect the unhallowed hands that might have
touched it; but the contented look with which she hid it in her bosom
showed that she was free from all suspicion. She went, and the parting
glance she threw on the garden seemed expressive of gratitude to the
guardian deities of the spot, who had so faithfully watched over the
secret of her heart.

"I now hastened to decipher the letter. After trying several languages,
I at length succeeded by the use of English. Its contents were so
remarkable that my memory still retains a perfect recollection of them."

I am interrupted, and must give you the conclusion on a future occasion.




LETTER VIII.

BARON F------ TO COUNT O-------
August.

In truth, my dearest friend, you do the good Biondello injustice. The
suspicion you entertain against him is unfounded, and while I allow you
full liberty to condemn all Italians generally, I must maintain that
this one at least is an honest man.

You think it singular that a person of such brilliant endowments and
such exemplary conduct should debase himself to enter the service of
another if he were not actuated by secret motives; and these, you
further conclude, must necessarily be of a suspicious character. But
where is the novelty of a man of talent and of merit endeavoring to win
favor with a prince who has the power of establishing his fortune? Is
there anything derogatory in serving the prince? and has not Biondello
clearly shown that his devotion is purely personal by confessing that he
earnestly desired to make a certain request of the prince? The whole
mystery will, therefore, no doubt be revealed when he acquaints him of
his wishes. He may certainly be actuated by secret motives, but why may
these not be innocent in their nature?

You think it strange that this Biondello should have kept all his great
talents concealed, and in no way have attracted attention during the
early months of our acquaintance with him, when you were still with us.
This I grant; but what opportunity had he then of distinguishing
himself? The prince had not yet called his powers into requisition, and
chance, therefore, could alone aid us in discovering his talents.

He very recently gave a proof of his devotion and honesty of purpose
which must at once annihilate all your doubts. The prince was watched;
measures were being taken to gain information regarding his mode of
life, associates, and general habits. I know not with whom this
inquisitiveness originated. Let me beg your attention, however, to what
I am about to relate:--

There is a house in St. George's which Biondello is in the habit of
frequenting. He probably finds some peculiar attractions there, but of
this I know nothing. It happened a few days ago that he there met
assembled together a party of civil and military officers in the service
of the government, old acquaintances and jovial comrades of his own.
Surprise and pleasure were expressed on all sides at this meeting.
Their former good-fellowship was re-established; and after each in turn
had related his own history up to the present time, Biondello was called
upon to give an account of his life; this he did in a few words. He was
congratulated on his new position; his companions had heard accounts of
the splendid footing on which the Prince of -------'s establishment was
maintained; of his liberality, especially to persons who showed
discretion in keeping secrets; the prince's connection with the Cardinal
A------i was well known, he was said to be addicted to play, etc.
Biondello's surprise at this is observed, and jokes are passed upon the
mystery which he tries to keep up, although it is well known that he is
the emissary of the Prince of ------. The two lawyers of the party make
him sit down between them; their glasses are repeatedly emptied, he is
urged to drink, but excuses himself on the grounds of inability to bear
wine; at last, however, he yields to their wishes, in order that he may
the better pretend intoxication.

"Yes!" cried one of the lawyers, "Biondello understands his business,
but he has not yet learned all the tricks of the trade; he is but a
novice."

"What have I still to learn?" ask Biondello.

"You understand the art of keeping a secret," remarked the other; "but
you have still to learn that of parting with it to advantage."

"Am I likely to find a purchaser for any that I may have to dispose of?"
asked Biondello.

On this the other guests withdrew from the apartment, and left him alone
with his two neighbors, who continued the conversation in the same
strain. The substance of the whole was, however, briefly as follows:
Biondello was to procure them certain information regarding the
intercourse of the prince with the cardinal and his nephew, acquaint
them with the source from whence the prince derived his money, and to
intercept all letters written to Count O------. Biondello put them off
to a future occasion, but he was unsuccessful in his attempts to draw
from them the name of the person by whom they were employed. From the
splendid nature of the proposals made to him it was evident, however,
that they emanated from some influential and extremely wealthy party.

Last night he related the whole occurrence to the prince, whose first
impulse was without further ceremony to secure the maneuverers at once,
but to this Biondello strongly objected. He urged that he would be
obliged to set them at liberty again, and that, in this case, he should
endanger not only his credit among this class of men, but even his life.
All these men were connected together, and bound by one common interest,
each one making the cause of the others his own; in fact, he would
rather make enemies of the senate of Venice than be regarded by these
men as a traitor--and, besides, he could no longer be useful to the
prince if he lost the confidence of this class of people.

We have pondered and conjectured much as to the source of all this. Who
is there in Venice that can care to know what money my master receives
or pays out, what passess between Cardinal A-----i and himself, and what
I write to you? Can it be some scheme of the Prince of ---d-----, or is
the Armenian again on the alert?




LETTER IX.

BARON F------ TO COUNT O-------.
August.

The prince is revelling in love and bliss. He has recovered his fair
Greek. I must relate to you how this happened.

A traveller, who had crossed from Chiozza, gave the prince so animated
an account of the beauty of this place, which is charmingly situated on
the shores of the gulf, that he became very anxious to see it.
Yesterday was fixed upon for the excursion; and, in order to avoid all
restraint and display, no one was to accompany him but Z------- and
myself, together with Biondello, as my master wished to remain unknown.
We found a vessel ready to start, and engaged our passage at once. The
company was very mixed but not numerous, and the passage was made
without the occurrence of any circumstance worthy of notice.

Chiozza is built, like Venice, on a foundation of wooden piles, and is
said to contain about forty thousand inhabitants. There are but few of
the higher classes resident there, but one meets sailors and fishermen
at every step. Whoever appears in a peruke, or a cloak, is regarded as
an aristocrat--a rich man; the cap and overcoat are here the insignia of
the poor. The situation is certainly very lovely, but it will not bear
a comparison with Venice.

We did not remain long, for the captain, who had more passengers for the
return voyage, was obliged to be in Venice at an early hour, and there
was nothing at Chiozza to make the prince desirous of remaining. All
the passengers were on board when we reached the vessel. As we had
found it so difficult to place ourselves on a social footing with the
company on the outward passage, we determined on this occasion to secure
a cabin to ourselves. The prince inquired who the new-comers were, and
was informed that they were a Dominican and some ladies, who were
returning to Venice. My master evincing no curiosity to see them, we
immediately betook ourselves to our cabin.

The Greek was the subject of our conversation throughout the whole
passage, as she had been during our former transit. The prince dwelt
with ardor on her appearance in the church; and whilst numerous plans
were in turn devised and rejected, hours passed like a moment of time,
and we were already in sight of Venice. Some of the passengers now
disembarked, the Dominican amongst the number. The captain went to the
ladies, who, as we now first learned, had been separated from us by only
a thin wooden partition, and asked them where they wished to land. The
island of Murano was named in reply to his inquiry, and the house
indicated. "The island of Murano!" exclaimed the prince, who seemed
suddenly struck by a startling presentiment. Before I could reply to
his exclamation, Biondello rushed into the cabin. "Do you know," asked
he eagerly, "who is on board with us?" The prince started to his feet,
as Biondello continued, "She is here! she herself! I have just spoken
to her companion!"

The prince hurried out. He felt as if he could not breathe in our
narrow cabin, and I believe at that moment as if the whole world would
have been too narrow for him. A thousand conflicting feelings struggled
for the mastery in his heart; his knees trembled, and his countenance
was alternately flushed and pallid. I sympathized and participated in
his emotion, but I cannot by words convey to your mind any idea of the
state in which he was.

When we stopped at Murano, the prince sprang on shore. She advanced
from her cabin. I read in the face of the prince that it was indeed
the Greek. One glance was sufficient to dispel all doubt on that point.
A more lovely creature I have never seen. Even the prince's glowing
descriptions fell far short of the reality. A radiant blush suffused
her face when she saw my master. She must have heard all we said, and
could not fail to know that she herself had been the subject of our
conversation. She exchanged a significant glance with her companion,
which seemed to say, "That is he;" and then cast her eyes to the ground
with diffident confusion. On placing her foot on the narrow plank,
which had been thrown from the vessel to the shore, she seemed anxiously
to hesitate, less, as it seemed to me, from the fear of falling than
from her inability to cross the board without assistance, which was
proffered her by the outstretched arm of the prince. Necessity overcame
her reluctance, and, accepting the aid of his hand, she stepped on
shore. Excessive mental agitation had rendered the prince uncourteous,
and he wholly forgot to offer his services to the other lady--but what
was there that he would not have forgotten at this moment? My attention
in atoning for the remissness of the prince prevented my hearing the
commencement of a conversation which had begun between him and the young
Greek, while I had been helping the other lady on shore.

He was still holding her hand in his, probably from absence of mind, and
without being conscious of the fact.

"This is not the first time, Signora, that--that"--he stopped short,
unable to finish the sentence.

"I think I remember" she faltered.

"We met in the church of ---------," said he, quickly.

"Yes, it was in the church of ---------," she rejoined.

"And could I have supposed that this day would have brought me--"

Here she gently withdrew her hand from his--he was evidently
embarrassed; but Biondello, who had in the meantime been speaking to the
servant, now came to his aid.

"Si-nor," said he, "the ladies had ordered sedans to be in readiness for
them; they have not yet come, for we are here before the expected time.
But there is a garden close by in which you may remain until the crowd
has dispersed."

The proposal was accepted; you may conceive with what alacrity on the
part of the prince! We remained in the garden till late in the evening;
and, fortunately, Z-------- and myself so effectually succeeded in
occupying the attention of the elder lady that the prince was enabled,
undisturbed, to carry on his conversation with the fair Greek. You will
easily believe that he made good use of his time, when I tell you that
he obtained permission to visit her. At the very moment that I am now
writing he is with her; on his return I shall be able to give you
further particulars regarding her.

When we got home yesterday we found that the long-expected remittances
had arrived from our court; but at the same time the prince received a
letter which excited his indignation to the highest pitch. He has been
recalled, and that in a tone and manner to which he is wholly
unaccustomed. He immediately wrote a reply in a similar spirit, and
intends remaining. The remittances are only just sufficient to pay the
interest on the capital which he owes. We are looking with impatience
for a reply from his sister.




LETTER X.

BARON F------ TO COUNT O-------
September.

The prince has fallen out with his court, and all resources have
consequently been cut off from home.

The term of six weeks, at the end of which my master was to pay the
marquis, has already elapsed several days; but still no remittances
have been forwarded, either from his cousin, of whom he had earnestly
requested an additional allowance in advance, or from his sister. You
may readily suppose that Civitella has not reminded him of his debt; the
prince's memory is, however, all the more faithful. Yesterday morning
at length brought an answer from the seat of government.

We had shortly before concluded a new arrangement with the master of our
hotel, and the prince had publicly announced his intention to remain
here sometime longer. Without uttering a word my master put the letter
into my hand. His eyes sparkled, and I could read the contents in his
face.

Can you believe it, dear O; all my master's proceedings here are known
at and have been most calumniously misrepresented by an abominable
tissue of lies? "Information has been received," says the letter,
amongst other things, "to the effect that the prince has for some time
past belied his former character, and adopted a node of conduct totally
at variance with his former exemplary manner of acting and thinking."
"It is known," the writer says, "that he has addicted himself with the
greatest excess to women and play; that he is overwhelmed with debts;
puts his confidence in visionaries and charlatans, who pretend to have
power over spirits; maintains suspicious relations with Roman Catholic
prelates, and keeps up a degree of state which exceeds both his rank and
his means. Nay, it is even said, that he is about to bring this highly
offensive conduct to a climax by apostacy to the Church of Rome! and in
order to clear himself from this last charge he is required to return
immediately. A banker at Venice, to whom he must make known the true
amount of his debts, has received instructions to satisfy his creditors
immediately after his departure; for, under existing circumstances, it
does not appear expedient to remit the money directly into his hands."

What accusations, and what a mode of preferring them. I read the letter
again and again, in the hope of discovering some expression that
admitted of a milder construction, but in vain; it was wholly
incomprehensible.

Z------- now reminded me of the secret inquiries which had been made
some time before of Biondello. The true nature of the inquiries and
circumstances all coincided. He had falsely ascribed them to the
Armenian; but now the source from whence the came was very evident.
Apostacy! But who can have any interest in calumniating my master so
scandalously? I should fear it was some machination of the Prince of
---d-----, who is determined on driving him from Venice.

In the meantime the prince remained absorbed in thought, with his eyes
fixed on the ground. His continued silence alarmed me. I threw myself
at his feet. "For God's sake, your highness," I cried, "moderate your
feelings--you will--nay, you shall have satisfaction. Leave the whole
affair to me. Let me be your emissary. It is beneath your dignity to
reply to such accusations; but you will not, I know, refuse me the
privilege of doing so for you. The name of your calumniator must be
given up, and -------'s eyes must be opened."

At this moment we were interrupted by the entrance of Civitella, who
inquired with surprise into the cause of our agitation. Z------- and
I did not answer; but the prince, who had long ceased to make any
distinction between him and us, and who, besides, was too much excited
to listen to the dictates of prudence, desired me to communicate the
contents of the letter to him. On my hesitating to obey him, he
snatched the letter from my hand and gave it to the marquis.

"I am in your debt, marquis," said he, as Civitella gave him back the
letter, after perusing it, with evident astonishment, "but do not let
that circumstance occasion you any uneasiness; grant me but a respite of
twenty days, and you shall be fully satisfied."

"Do I deserve this at your hands, gracious prince?" exclaimed
Civitella, with extreme emotion.

"You have refrained from pressing me, and I gratefully appreciate your
delicacy. In twenty days, as I before said, you shall be fully
satisfied."

"But how is this?" asked Civitella, with agitation and surprise. "What
means all this? I cannot comprehend it."

We explained to him all that we knew, and his indignation was unbounded.
The prince, he asserted, must insist upon full satisfaction; the insult
was unparalleled.

In the meanwhile he implored him to make unlimited use of his fortune
and his credit.

When the marquis left us the prince still continued silent. He paced
the apartment with quick and determined steps, as if some strange and
unusual emotion were agitating his frame. At length he paused,
muttering between his teeth, "Congratulate yourself; he died at ten
o'clock."

We looked at him in terror.

"Congratulate yourself," he repeated. "Did he not say that I should
congratulate myself? What could he have meant?"

"What has reminded you of those words?" I asked; "and what have they to
do with the present business?"

"I did not then understand what the man meant, but now I do. Oh, it is
intolerable to be subject to a master."

"Gracious prince!"

"Who can make us feel our dependence. Ha! it must be sweet, indeed."

He again paused. His looks alarmed me, for I had never before seen him
thus agitated.

"Whether a man be poorest of the poor," he continued, "or the next heir
to the throne, it is all one and the same thing. There is but one
difference between men--to obey or to command."

He again glanced over the letter.

"You know the man," he continued, "who has dared to write these words to
me. Would you salute him in the street if fate had not made him your
master? By Heaven, there is something great in a crown."

He went on in this strain, giving expression to many things which I dare
not trust to paper. On this occasion the prince confided a circumstance
to me which alike surprised and terrified me, and which may be followed
by the most alarming consequences. We have hitherto been entirely
deceived regarding the family relations of the court of --------.

He answered the letter on the spot, notwithstanding my earnest entreaty
that he should postpone doing so; and the strain in which he wrote
leaves no ground to hope for a favorable settlement of those
differences.

You are no doubt impatient, dear O------, to hear something definite
with respect to the Greek; but in truth I have very little to tell you.
From the prince I can learn nothing, as he has been admitted into her
confidence, and is, I believe, bound to secrecy. The fact has, however,
transpired that she is not a Greek, as we supposed, but a German of the
highest descent. From a certain report that has reached me, it would
appear that her mother is of the most exalted rank, and that she is the
fruit of an unfortunate amour which was once talked of all over Europe.
A course of secret persecution to which she had been exposed, in
consequence of her origin, compelled her to seek protection in Venice,
and to adopt that concealment which had rendered it impossible for the
prince to discover her retreat. The respect with which the prince
speaks of her, and a certain deferential deportment which he maintains
towards her, appear to corroborate the truth of this report.

He is devoted to her with a fearful intensity of passion which increases
day by day. In the earliest stage of their acquaintance but few
interviews were granted; but after the first week the separations were
of shorter duration, and now there is scarce a day on which the prince
is not with her. Whole evenings pass without our even seeing him, and
when he is not with her she appears to form the sole object of his
thoughts. His whole being seems metamorphosed. He goes about as if
wrapped in a dream, and nothing that formerly interested him has now
power to arrest his attention even for a moment.

How will this end, my dear friend? I tremble for the future. The
rupture with his court has placed my master in a state of humiliating
dependence on one sole person--the Marquis Civitella. This man is now
master of our secrets--of our whole fate. Will he always conduct
himself as nobly as he does now? Are his good intentions to be relied
upon; and is it expedient to confide so much weight and power to one
person--even were he the best of men? The prince's sister has again
been written to--the result of this fresh appeal you shall learn in my
next letter.




COUNT O------- IN CONTINUATION.

This letter never reached me. Three months passed without my receiving
any tidings from Venice,--an interruption to our correspondence which
the sequel but too clearly explained. All my friend's letters to me had
been kept back and suppressed. My emotion may be conceived when, in the
December of the same year, the following letter reached me by mere
accident (as it afterwards appeared), owing to the sudden illness of
Biondello, into whose hands it had been committed.

"You do not write; you do not answer me. Come, I entreat you, come on
the wings of friendship! Our hopes are fled! Read the enclosed,--all
our hopes are at an end!

"The wounds of the marquis are reported mortal. The cardinal vows
vengeance, and his bravos are in pursuit of the prince. My master--oh!
my unhappy master! Has it come to this! Wretched, horrible fate! We
are compelled to hide ourselves, like malefactors, from assassins and
creditors.

"I am writing to you from the convent of --------, where the prince has
found an asylum. At this moment he is resting on his hard couch by my
side, and is sleeping--but, alas! it is only the sleep of deadly
exhaustion, that will but give him new strength for new trials. During
the ten days that she was ill no sleep closed his eyes. I was present
when the body was opened. Traces of poison were detected. To-day she
is to be buried.

"Alas! dearest O------, my heart is rent. I have lived through scenes
that can never be effaced from my memory. I stood beside her deathbed.
She departed like a saint, and her last strength was spent in trying
with persuasive eloquence to lead her lover into the path that she was
treading in her way to heaven. Our firmness was completely gone--the
prince alone maintained his fortitude, and although he suffered a triple
agony of death with her, he yet retained strength of mind sufficient to
refuse the last prayer of the pious enthusiast."

This letter contained the following enclosure:

TO THE PRINCE OF --------, FROM HIS SISTER.

"The one sole redeeming church which has made so glorious a conquest of
the Prince of -------- will surely not refuse to supply him with means
to pursue the mode of life to which she owes this conquest. I have
tears and prayers for one that has gone astray, but nothing further to
bestow on one so worthless! HENRIETTE."


I instantly threw myself into a carriage--travelled night and day, and
in the third week I was in Venice. My speed availed nothing. I had
come to bring comfort and help to an unhappy one, but I found a happy
one who needed not my weak aid. F------- was ill when I arrived, and
unable to see me, but the following note was brought to me from him.

"Return, dearest O-----, to whence you came. The prince no longer needs
you or me. His debts have been paid; the cardinal is reconciled to him,
and the marquis has recovered. Do you remember the Armenian who
perplexed us so much last year? In his arms you will find the prince,
who five days since attended mass for the first time."

Notwithstanding all this I earnestly sought an interview with the
prince, but was refused. By the bedside of my friend I learnt the
particulars of this strange story.






              THE SPORT OF DESTINY

ALOYSIUS VON G------ was the son of a citizen of distinction, in the
service of -------, and the germs of his fertile genius had been early
developed by a liberal education. While yet very young, but already
well grounded in the principles of knowledge, he entered the military
service of his sovereign, to whom he soon made himself known as a young
man of great merit and still greater promise. G------ was now in the
full glow of youth, so also was the prince. G------ was ardent and
enterprising; the prince, of a similar disposition, loved such
characters. Endued with brilliant wit and a rich fund of information,
G------ possessed the art of ingratiating himself with all around him;
he enlivened every circle in which he moved by his felicitous humor, and
infused life and spirit into every subject that came before him. The
prince had discernment enough to appreciate in another those virtues
which he himself possessed in an eminent degree. Everything which
G------ undertook, even to his very sports, had an air of grandeur; no
difficulties could daunt him, no failures vanquish his perseverance.
The value of these qualities was increased by an attractive person, the
perfect image of blooming health and herculean strength, and heightened
by the eloquent expression natural to an active mind; to these was added
a certain native and unaffected dignity, chastened and subdued by a
noble modesty. If the prince was charmed with the intellectual
attractions of his young companion, his fascinating exterior
irresistibly captivated his senses. Similarity of age, of tastes, and
of character soon produced an intimacy between them, which possessed all
the strength of friendship and all the warmth and fervor of the most
passionate love. G------ rose with rapidity from one promotion to
another; but whatever the extent of favors conferred they still seemed
in the estimation of the prince to fall short of his deserts. His
fortune advanced with gigantic strides, for the author of his greatness
was his devoted admirer and his warmest friend. Not yet twenty-two
years of age, he already saw himself placed on an eminence hitherto
attained only by the most fortunate at the close of their career. But
his active spirit was incapable of reposing long in the lap of indolent
vanity, or of contenting itself with the glittering pomp of an elevated
office, to perform the behests of which he was conscious of possessing
both the requisite courage and the abilities. Whilst the prince was
engaged in rounds of pleasure, his young favorite buried himself among
archives and books, and devoted himself with laborious assiduity to
affairs of state, in which he at length became so expert that every
matter of importance passed through his hands. From the companion of
his pleasures he soon became first councillor and minister, and finally
the ruler of his sovereign. In a short time there was no road to the
prince's favor but through him. He disposed of all offices and
dignities; all rewards were received from his hands.

G------ had attained this vast influence at too early an age, and had
risen by too rapid strides to enjoy his power with moderation. The
eminence on which he beheld himself made his ambition dizzy, and no
sooner was the final object of his wishes attained than his modesty
forsook him. The respectful deference shown him by the first nobles of
the land, by all who, in birth, fortune, and reputation, so far
surpassed him, and which was even paid to him, youth as he was, by the
oldest senators, intoxicated his pride, while his unlimited power served
to develop a certain harshness which had been latent in his character,
and which, throughout all the vicissitudes of his fortune, remained.
There was no service, however considerable or toilsome, which his
friends might not safely ask at his hands; but his enemies might well
tremble! for, in proportion as he was extravagant in rewards, so was he
implacable in revenge. He made less use of his influence to enrich
himself than to render happy a number of beings who should pay homage
to him as the author of their prosperity; but caprice alone, and not
justice, dictated the choice of his subjects. By a haughty, imperious
demeanor he alienated the hearts even of those whom he had most
benefited; while at the same time he converted his rivals and secret
enviers into deadly enemies.

Amongst those who watched all his movements with jealousy and envy, and
who were silently preparing instruments for his destruction, was Joseph
Martinengo, a Piedmontese count belonging to the prince's suite, whom
G------ himself had formerly promoted, as an inoffensive creature,
devoted to his interests, for the purpose of supplying his own place in
attending upon the pleasures of the prince--an office which he began to
find irksome, and which he willingly exchanged for more useful
employment. Viewing this man merely as the work of his own hands, whom
he might at any period consign to his former insignificance, he felt
assured of the fidelity of his creature from motives of fear no less
than of gratitude. He fell thus into the error committed by Richelieu,
when he made over to Louis XII., as a sort of plaything, the young Le
Grand. Without Richelieu's sagacity, however, to repair his error, he
had to deal with a far more wily enemy than fell to the lot of the
French minister. Instead of boasting of his good fortune, or allowing
his benefactor to feel that he could now dispense with his patronage,
Martinengo was, on the contrary, the more cautious to maintain a show of
dependence, and with studied humility affected to attach himself more
and more closely to the author of his prosperity. Meanwhile, he did not
omit to avail himself, to its fullest extent, of the opportunities
afforded him by his office, of being continually about the prince's
person, to make himself daily more useful, and eventually indispensable
to him. In a short time he had fathomed the prince's sentiments
thoroughly, had discovered all the avenues to his confidence, and
imperceptibly stolen himself into his favor. All those arts which a
noble pride, and a natural elevation of character, had taught the
minister to disdain, were brought into play by the Italian, who scrupled
not to avail himself of the most despicable means for attaining his
object. Well aware that man never stands so much in need of a guide and
assistant as in the paths of vice, and that nothing gives a stronger
title to bold familiarity than a participation in secret indiscretions,
he took measures for exciting passions in the prince which had hitherto
lain dormant, and then obtruded himself upon him as a confidant and an
accomplice. He plunged him especially into those excesses which least
of all endure witnesses, and imperceptibly accustomed the prince to make
him the depository of secrets to which no third person was admitted.
Upon the degradation of the prince's character he now began to found his
infamous schemes of aggrandizement, and, as he had made secrecy a means
of success, he had obtained entire possession of his master's heart
before G------ even allowed himself to suspect that he shared it with
another.

It may appear singular that so important a change should escape the
minister's notice; but G------ was too well assured of his own worth
ever to think of a man like Martinengo in the light of a competitor;
while the latter was far too wily, and too much on his guard, to commit
the least error which might tend to rouse his enemy from his fatal
security. That which has caused thousands of his predecessors to
stumble on the slippery path of royal favor was also the cause of
G------'s fall, immoderate self-confidence. The secret intimacy between
his creature, Martinengo, and his royal master gave him no uneasiness;
he readily resigned a privilege which he despised and which had never
been the object of his ambition. It was only because it smoothed his
way to power that he had ever valued the prince's friendship, and he
inconsiderately threw down the ladder by which he had risen as soon as
he had attained the wished-for eminence.

Martinengo was not the man to rest satisfied with so subordinate a part.
At each step which he advanced in the prince's favor his hopes rose
higher, and his ambition began to grasp at a more substantial
gratification. The deceitful humility which he had hitherto found it
necessary to maintain towards his benefactor became daily more irksome
to him, in proportion as the growth of his reputation awakened his
pride. On the other hand, the minister's deportment toward him by no
means improved with his marked progress in the prince's favor, but was
often too visibly directed to rebuke his growing pride by reminding him
of his humble origin. This forced and unnatural position having become
quite insupportable, he at length formed the determination of putting an
end to it by the destruction of his rival. Under an impenetrable veil
of dissimulation he brought his plan to maturity. He dared not venture
as yet to come into open conflict with his rival; for, although the
first glow of the minister's favor was at an end, it had commenced too
early, and struck root too deeply in the bosom of the prince, to be torn
from it abruptly. The slightest circumstance might restore it to all
its former vigor; and therefore Martinengo well understood that the blow
which he was about to strike must be a mortal one. Whatever ground
G------ might have lost in the prince's affections he had gained in his
respect. The more the prince withdrew himself from the affairs of
state, the less could he dispense with the services of a man, who with
the most conscientious devotion and fidelity had consulted his master's
interests, even at the expense of the country,--and G------ was now as
indispensable to him as a minister as he had formerly been dear to him
as a friend.

By what means the Italian accomplished his purpose has remained a secret
between those on whom the blow fell and those who directed it. It was
reported that he laid before the prince the original draughts of a
secret and very suspicious correspondence which G------ is said to have
carried on with a neighboring court; but opinions differ as to whether
the letters were authentic or spurious. Whatever degree of truth there
may have been in the accusation it is but too certain that it fearfully
accomplished the end in view. In the eyes of the prince G-----
appeared the most ungrateful and vilest of traitors, whose treasonable
practices were so thoroughly proved as to warrant the severest measures
without further investigation. The whole affair was arranged with the
most profound secrecy between Martinengo and his master, so that G------
had not the most distant presentiment of the impending storm. He
continued wrapped in this fatal security until the dreadful moment in
which he was destined, from being the object of universal homage and
envy, to become that of the deepest commiseration.

When the decisive day arrived, G------ appeared, according to custom,
upon the parade. He had risen in a few years from the rank of ensign to
that of colonel; and even this was only a modest name for that of prime
minister, which he virtually filled, and which placed him above the
foremost of the land. The parade was the place where his pride was
greeted with universal homage, and where he enjoyed for one short hour
the dignity for which he endured a whole day of toil and privation.
Those of the highest rank approached him with reverential deference,
and those who were not assured of his favor with fear and trembling.
Even the prince, whenever he visited the parade, saw himself neglected
by the side of his vizier, inasmuch as it was far more dangerous to
incur the displeasure of the latter than profitable to gain the
friendship of the former. This very place, where he was wont to be
adored as a god, had been selected for the dreadful theatre of his
humiliation.

With a careless step he entered the well-known circle of courtiers,
who, as unsuspicious as himself of what was to follow, paid their usual
homage, awaiting his commands. After a short interval appeared
Martinengo, accompanied by two adjutants, no longer the supple,
cringing, smiling courtier, but overbearing and insolent, like a lackey
suddenly raised to the rank of a gentleman. With insolence and
effrontery he strutted up to the prime minister, and, confronting him
with his head covered, demanded his sword in the prince's name. This
was handed to him with a look of silent consternation; Martinengo,
resting the naked point on the ground, snapped it in two with his foot,
and threw the fragments at G-----'s feet. At this signal the two
adjutants seized him; one tore the Order of the Cross from his breast;
the other pulled off his epaulettes, the facings of his uniform, and
even the badge and plume of feathers from his hat. During the whole of
the appalling operation, which was conducted with incredible speed, not
a sound nor a respiration was heard from more than five hundred persons
who were present; but all, with blanched faces and palpitating hearts,
stood in deathlike silence around the victim, who in his strange
disarray--a rare spectacle of the melancholy and the ridiculous--
underwent a moment of agony which could only be equalled by feelings
engendered on the scaffold. Thousands there are who in his situation
would have been stretched senseless on the ground by the first shock;
but his firm nerves and unflinching spirit sustained him through this
bitter trial, and enabled him to drain the cup of bitterness to its
dregs.

When this procedure was ended he was conducted through rows of thronging
spectators to the extremity of the parade, where a covered carriage was
in waiting. He was motioned to ascend, an escort of hussars being
ready-mounted to attend to him. Meanwhile the report of this event had
spread through the whole city; every window was flung open, every street
lined with throngs of curious spectators, who pursued the carriage,
shouting his name, amid cries of scorn and malicious exultation, or of
commiseration more bitter to bear than either. At length he cleared the
town, but here a no less fearful trial awaited him. The carriage turned
out of the high road into a narrow, unfrequented path--a path which led
to the gibbet, and alongside which, by command of the prince, he was
borne at a slow pace. After he had suffered all the torture of
anticipated execution the carriage turned off into the public road.
Exposed to the sultry summer-heat, without refreshment or human
consolation, he passed seven dreadful hours in journeying to the place
of destination--a prison fortress. It was nightfall before he arrived;
when, bereft of all consciousness, more dead than alive, his giant
strength having at length yielded to twelve hours' fast and consuming
thirst, he was dragged from the carriage; and, on regaining his senses,
found himself in a horrible subterraneous vault. The first object that
presented itself to his gaze was a horrible dungeon-wall, feebly
illuminated by a few rays of the moon, which forced their way through
narrow crevices to a depth of nineteen fathoms. At his side he found a
coarse loaf, a jug of water, and a bundle of straw for his couch. He
endured this situation until noon the ensuing day, when an iron wicket
in the centre of the tower was opened, and two hands were seen lowering
a basket, containing food like that he had found the preceding night.
For the first time since the terrible change in his fortunes did pain
and suspense extort from him a question or two. Why was he brought
hither? What offence had he committed? But he received no answer; the
hands disappeared; and the sash was closed. Here, without beholding the
face, or hearing the voice of a fellow-creature; without the least clue
to his terrible destiny; fearful doubts and misgivings overhanging alike
the past and the future; cheered by no rays of the sun, and soothed by
no refreshing breeze; remote alike from human aid and human compassion;
--here, in this frightful abode of misery, he numbered four hundred and
ninety long and mournful days, which he counted by the wretched loaves
that, day after day, with dreary monotony, were let down into his
dungeon. But a discovery which he one day made early in his confinement
filled up the measure of his affliction. He recognized the place. It
was the same which he himself, in a fit of unworthy vengeance against a
deserving officer, who had the misfortune to displease him, had ordered
to be constructed only a few months before. With inventive cruelty he
had even suggested the means by which the horrors of captivity might be
aggravated; and it was but recently that he had made a journey hither in
order personally to inspect the place and hasten its completion. What
added the last bitter sting to his punishment was that the same officer
for whom he had prepared the dungeon, an aged and meritorious colonel,
had just succeeded the late commandant of the fortress, recently
deceased, and, from having been the victim of his vengeance, had become
the master of his fate. He was thus deprived of the last melancholy
solace, the right of compassionating himself, and of accusing destiny,
hardly as it might use him, of injustice. To the acuteness of his other
suffering was now added a bitter self-contempt, contempt, and the pain
which to a sensitive mind is the severest--dependence upon the
generosity of a foe to whom he had shown none.