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INDEX TO VOL. XLIV.
Pericles at the Bier of his Son, 203
Anglo-Indian Passage Homeward and Linda; or, the Festival, noticed, 252
Mammoth, The Coming of the, and
other Poems, noticed, 241
Manual of Astronomy, noticed, 237
National Education, On, noticed, 376
Poems by a father and a Daughter,
Poems, noticed, 120
treated with Naplitha, noticed, 123,
Songs in the Desert, noticed, 375
World's Slippery Turns, The ; or,
Mind Ilow you Wed, noticed, 121
METROPOLITAN MAGAZINE .
THE GUELPHS AND GHIBELLINES.
Stars, hide your fires !
WHILE awaiting the arrival of the Pope's answer to the memorials, Buondelmonte, to avoid the insults of the populace, deferred his visits to the Palazzo Donati till after the Ave Maria had rung and the streets were comparatively deserted. He went wrapped in a large mantle, and attended by a domestic.
To indemnify himself for the loss of Imma's society during the day, he generally remained late at night. His love for Imma, if possible, increased; there was still uncertainty to stimulate, for he could not be certain of the annulling of his pre-contract; there was the romance of their, in some sort, stolen meetings; there was a lurking feeling that he should yet purchase her dearly-and we always prize most highly that for which we pay most dearly; and agitation and uncertainty gave a variety to Imma's hitherto placid beauty. She idolized Buondelmonte, whom she regarded as quite a martyr to her love; but the more she admired the handsome Florentine, the more did she think herself guilty to Amidea, in depriving her of so unequalled a bridegroom ; and she did not feel at all reassured by her mother's arguments, that Amidea had never loved Buondelmonte, and would have preferred consecrating herself to the memory of Florestan; for poor Imma thought it impossible that Buondelmonte could have failed, for a moment, of preference over
1 Continued from page 426, vol. xliii. Sept. 1845.-VOL. XLIV.—NO. CLXXIII.
the memory of one whom she thought he must have excelled in every way. While they were together, indeed, the lovers thought only of each other, and sat gazing on each other's eyes in a dream of happiness; but the moment they separated, the minds of each became filled with uneasy thoughts, as if they had some instinctive knowledge that, when Buondelmonte left the Palazzo Donati and was returning home, his steps were dogged by a murderer.
For some nights Piero had watched Buondelmonte to ascertain in what manner he might best strike the blow and gain the lands in the Val d'Elsa. He had stolen after him in the dark shadow of some huge building; he had watched him from the depth of a church porch ; and he had glided along through ruins. He remarked that Buondelmonte, coming along with an animated face, was always in advance of his domestic, who generally kept to the middle of the street, while his master walked along by the houses.
Near the corner of a quiet little unfrequented street, down which Buondelmonte must turn, stood a large ruinous house, with a piazza much choked by rubbish, behind one of the pillars of which Piero stationed himself on the night upon which he intended to fulfil his employer's desire. He judged that Buondelmonte would
pass close to his ambush even before his attendant had turned the corner; he might spring upon his victim, drag him to the ground, and press one hand upon his mouth whilst the other deliberately pierced his heart. T'hen away! through intricate windings of which he had made himself master, and let who would find the corpse ; let suspicion light where it would (and perhaps it would fall on the brother of the injured Amidea), who could suspect Piero- too obscure to be even known?
The night was dark. Piero, armed, masked, and wrapped in a cloak, was hid among the rubbish of the ruined piazza. His attentive ear was on the strain for the slightest sound ; his heart beat quick with anxiety, and his brain was heated with the whirl of agitating thoughts that cannot fail to attend on crime, even in men hardened in heart, and fixed in their resolution of commit
The street was now empty and hushed to a death-like silence. Never did the hours appear so long to Piero. He began at last to think that his victim would not come; he even wished it.
In a small church at some little distance, midnight lauds were sung. The solemn music floated on the still air and reached the ear of Piero; he listened with awe, and half renounced his purpose ; but the sounds died away, and fear of bis dangerous halfbrother and desire for the broad lands prevailed over an incipient good intention.
In a few minutes a distant footstep struck his ear, and then he heard Buondelmonte half-singing, half-humming in a cheerful manner; for the next day the Pope's answer was expected, and a