"Not one, save time to arm yourself; no more: every minute which passes, takes a grain of gold from your blazon . . ."

Inconceivable tyranny! wherein I recognize the infallible sign of the Gippini, such as my father has painted them to me a hundred times. Where is my sword? let us depart!"

He returned towards his group of friends, whom he had just quitted.

"San Gallo," said he, "I beg of you to accompany me as far as the church della Consolazione."

"You are going to say your prayers a long way off, before retiring to rest,” said the laughing San Gallo.

"Exactly so," coolly replied the count, "will you accompany me?"

San Gallo, half comprehending the affair, made no further reply, but walked towards the staircase.

The three actors in this scene, descended into the street, and walked on silently as far as the postern; there, they found a man enveloped in a cloak, who appeared to be waiting for them. "It is our champion, doubtless," said count Brignole."

"It is," replied Pallavicini. "Thou knowest, then, Gippino?"

"Not at all; he met me in the strada Balbi: he asked me whether I was a noble; he explained his business to me, and I accepted the office."

"Thou hast done well; with thee, at any rate, we shall not have to fear an ambush."

"I thought the same, that my presence would give you confidence." "Thanks."

They emerged into the open country! Vandyk walked-on first; at some twenty paces, a head; he stopped in a little wood of tamarind-trees, whose sombre foliage still further increased the obscurity of night.

'Tis here, then, count Gippino, that you will inaugurate your lists, with those of my noble house."

Vandyk seized his sword, but did not reply.

"I forewarn you," continued Brignole, "that I am about to defend myself vigorously, for I will not make a widow of my wife, ere the first night of our nuptials."

Vandyk sprang upon the sward, and placed him on guard. The two adversaries instantly crossed weapons. The combat lasted-not long; Vandyk received a violent plunge through the right arm; feeble of constitution, and already predisposed to attacks of phthsis which was consuming him still in his youth; exhausted, moreover, by all the anguish of that terrible day, he fell, from weakness, upon the grass.

"I am going to send you a surgeon," coolly exclaimed the count Brignole, and he withdrew with San Gallo.

Pallavicini lavished his attentions upon the unhappy young artist.

My friend," said Vandyk to him, "I have gold sufficient to re-purchase thy palace and villa: I give it thee. Run after that man, fight with him; thou wilt be

more fortunate than I, thou wilt kill him."

"Thy blood flows, I must needs stanch thy wound, calm thyself."

"Let my blood run, leave me to die . . . Know'st thou not that he is about to re-enter his palace in triumph; that warm caresses await him there; that paradise is about to open for him, and another and a darker world for me? Go, I tell thee, overtake that man, ere he reach the ramparts!"

"Calm thyself; I conjure thee, be calm. Tomorrow, we will begin afresh. Let me stanch thy wound."

"Ah, thou fearest him!"

66 Come, thou would'st not insult me!'

66

'Well, then, I, myself, will pursue him, I . . . leave me.

will. maledictions on his head!

Vandyk swooned.

When Vandyk had recovered his senses, day was breaking over the summit of the Appennines, and "What a horrible dream!"—were the first words he uttered. He cast his bewildered gaze around the meadows, kissing Pallavicini's hands, and bathing them with his tears; then, pointing with his finger to the blood-stained sward, he smiled bitterly, and raised his eyes to Heaven with an expression which lofty spirits, alone, can infuse into their countenances during the hours of consummate despair.

"Feelest thou strong enough to return citywards?" said Pallavicini. "Yes... but what have I in common with the city now? . . All is lost Look how smilingly the sun rises! How joyous is all nature! In a dream, this morning, I heard the lark sing. . . . Nature is full of these deep ironies What matters to her my wretchedness? Were she to deck-herself in crape, for every suffering being, 'twould be an eternal mourning. . 'Tis well!tis well! deck thyself in azure and gold, beauteous sky of Italy, laughing to scorn the misery of thy children."

"I think we shall be able to return now," tranquilly, observed Pallavicini." "Oh! thou, thou who art of marble, like the villa thou hast built. . . hast ever loved?"

"Often; but with thy strength, never."

"Hast thou loved women who returned thy love, and then united themselves to others?"

66

'Ay! that's singular; thy words have calmed me. Give me thy hand, that I may press it, thou giv'st me strength, anew."

"Thank Heaven! Thou art better! Take my arm, and let us reach the city on foot. Listen the countess Bri . . .”

"Oh! pronounce-not that name!"

"Be it so; the countess is lovely, ravishingly lovely, 'tis true; she has the transparent tinge of the rose, eyes luminous and azure, like the gulf of Genoa; coral lips; pearly teeth; an ivory neck; a waist, oh! I knew but one who has a waist like hers,

'tis the Venus of thy friend Titian of Venice. As for her mind; for her qualities of heart and soul, thou hast never spoken to me of them; I see that thou carest but little about them. . . Thus, give me four-and-twenty hours, and I will give thee another countess Brignole."

"Oh! peace! peace!-impossible!"

"Impossible! I would give thee a better than the countess Brignole.

myself, I have lost my palace, let them give me a finer, and, on the faith of a noble, I will for ever console myself . . . Good! thou smilest; our affairs are mending. Cospetto di Venere! Away with these whistling larks; and nature, that makes a jest of thee; speak reason. My friend, all the countesses in Italy are not worth the blood which thy artistic veins have just poured-forth. . . "But, come, what other woman would'st thou tell me of?"

“ Blessed_be_Nostra-Dama-della-Remedia, who dwells in the street we are just entering! We have wrought a cure! Thou art already interested about another

"I understand . . . Eh, per Dio, the love of an artist, is, I verily believe, but a species of intoxicating curiosity. If the Venus of the villa Adriani were buried a thousand feet under ground, thou wouldst, to dig her out, convert thyself into a delver in open day; gaze on her, and be the first to embrace her.

"Tis true."

"You are a race of men mastered by your senses; thus has your inconstancy passed-into a proverb; you make unto yourselves a museum of mistresees, like a cabinet of paintings; 'tis your craft, you study nature; you merely regard a fine model, where another man would behold the ideal and dreamed-of object of a platonic and immortal passion. Ah! Well! I will give thee a model which shall make the Venus Aphrodite, in her bath, attire herself for jealousy."

"Her name?"

"Thou shalt know it tomorrow. To day, cure thy fever, and sleep."

In discoursing thus, the two friends had, by a circuitous course of back streets, arrived at the porch of their dwelling, upon the square, della Annonciade. The city was still buried in slumber. A surgeon was summoned; he pronounced the wound exceedingly slight, notwithstanding the quantity of blood which had flowed from it. The only regimen he prescribed was four-and-twenty hours repose.

On the morrow, about noon, a domestic, wearing the livery of the Brignole, the bearer of a letter, entered the apartment of Vandyk. Pallavicini was helping to attire the artist, who was still weak and deadly pale. The count Brignole begged Vandyk to repair to his palace."

"Behold a strange incident," exclaimed the painter; "what wants the count with He knows me not; he has never seen me."

me?

"Thou must go to him," said Pallavicini. Would'st thou that I should accompany thee?"

'tis some infernal snare. The count

"Certainly, I shall not go alone; suspects something. Quick, quick! to the palace Durazzo."

""Tis very fortunate; I fear thee a relapse; thou art about to see her again and . .

"Her, see her again? never! never! I will see the count, I need but see the count.

Oh to behold her again! I should expire of shame, jealousy, and despair. . Come . .

"Thou art not calm enough to sustain this visit. . We ought to wait until

"Oh! thou know'st me not! 'tis over, I tell thee; 'tis no more than a remembrance, a painful dream. . Let us to Durazzo."

Vandyk had attired himself magnificently; but the splendor of his costume could not dissimulate upon his countenance his suffering and agitation; he was fearfully pale, and his step, which with effort he essayed to render bold, was unsteady, like that of one convalescent. He had slung the arm of his wounded hand in a scarf of pourpoint lace; with the other; he steadied himself by the balustrade of the marble staircase of the palace; Pallavicini followed him sighing.

He was ushered into the gallery, where the count suffered him not to wait. "Signor Vandyk," said he, advancing quickly towards him, "will you deign to excuse my indiscretion: I was apprised of your having returned to our city; I had the honor of your acquaintance during your first visit: I have therefore hastened to offer you, upon this occasion, my friendship and my palace. Durazzo is the hostelry of great artists, is it not, count Pallavicini!"

Vandyk bowed, but made no reply: he was completely overcome.

"I beg you will be seated, Gentlemen," continued the noble host, "I wish Signor Vandyk to speak to you upon a little matter. I was married vesterday; a marriage resulting from no chance, for I may truly say that it was a marriage of the affections but I now desire that our intimacy be formed under auspices worthy of your talent and my fortune: I wish you to paint the portrait of my wife. Though I were even to cover your canvass with sequins, I should remain still the obliged."

Vandyk bowed again. This silence was interpreted as the timidity of a young artist, brought face to face with a great noble.

Upon what day may the model place herself at your disposal!"

"To-day; I am ready," replied Vandyk in a low voice.

"Tis delightful of you, signor artist; you anticipate my wishes. You will find in my study canvass already prepared; I wish to have a full-length portrait, like that of the marquesa de Velletri, which you have painted, and which is a chef d'œuvre, like all to which you put your hand. . . Apropos! Count Pallavicini, tell me, how did Have you any news of him?

you leave our champion of Serbino? "He has set out this morning for Florence.

"He was an assassin hired by the Gippini; I knew that. My enemies wished to have murdered me, on my marriage day: 'twas well-devised gentlemen, be good enough to wait a moment; I am going for my wife." He re-entered his apartments.

Vandyk and Pallavicini looked at one another for some time, without speaking. "A word of advice, Vandyk, would'st thou have it?”

"In another quarter of an hour thou wilt be so effectually."

"I abandon myself to my destiny."

"But, remember thou art wounded, that thine hand cannot hold the pencil." "I will paint with my left hand."

"Thou art pale, art suffering, agonized: thou'lt die during the task "So much the better."

The door opened and the countess entered.

One might have said that she illuminated the gallery, with the rays of her dazzling beauty. Pallavicini, himself, sent forth an exclamation of surprise, which was torn from him in spite of himself, for he had never beheld her so beautiful. She wore a robe of black brocaded silk; her shoulders and arms were exhibited to view, and the fabric marvellously contrasted with their luminous whiteness. She saluted the two strangers with a celestial smile, and addressing herself to Vandyk, said to him with an incomparable grace :-"Signor, I await your commands; 'tis, indeed, an honor for me to seat myself before you."

"Let us enter the studio," said the count Brignole, "the signor Vandyk will choose his palettes, pencils and canvass."

The four actors in this scene entered the studio which was contiguous to the count's gallery.

Now, continued the count," you are at home; will you permit us to remain?" 'Vandyk belonged no more to earth; he replied not; but Pallavicini taking pity

on his friends' love, with the most perfect sangfroid said to the count:

"I know, Vandyk; we must place him at his ease; he loves-not to paint before witnesses; let us depart."

The countess and Vandyk remained alone in the studio.

"I knew nothing so beautiful as your portrait of the marquesa Velletri," said the countess in a familiar tone, as if to engage him slightly in conversation."

"I shall make every effort to merit your approbation," timidly replied the painter." "You have acquired it beforehand. I do not know the marquesa Velletri; is she beautiful!"

"I have never seen her, madame."

"How? you have painted her portrait."

Pardon me, madame, I was so occupied with my palette

and colors. . She is beautiful, I believe."

"It seems that you very easily forget your models. . Oh! are you going to paint me sitting! I do not like that posture; I would be standing, laughing, holding a flower in my hand. Does this dress please you?"