Imatges de pÓgina
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The voices were drawing nearer. he had seen the whole column at Milan. There was a glimmer of light through “Very likely," answered the priest, the solemn passages. It was only an- gravely; "for there were three of these other party that had descended another small columns set together, and to these way, now coming up to pay a pilgrimage three was Saint Sebastian bound.” to the tomb of the patron saint of song. Ah! the wealth and the levity of these

Our party here moved on, to the infi- places of worship! nite delight of Mollie, and the relief of “ It looks bad to see so much extravall. The countess sat in her carriage, agance in this way, when there is so leaning her face on her hand. She did much poverty and misery among the not see the party until they came sud- poor,” said the general to the monk. denly through the gate. She evidently “But,” said the monk in answer, had not expected them to return so soon. “when we reflect that it is the poor who She lifted her face, half-frightened, and chiefly use these sacred houses, and that as she did so there were tears on her they there, at least, are peers with the great sweeping lashes, and her face was proudest of the land, it is not so bad, still wet with weeping.

after all." The artist took his seat in silence, and The general saw that the subject, like Mollie was, for the first time and for a nearly all others in the world, had two wonder, thoughtful. They drove rapid- sides to it, and was silent. ly on, for the sun was setting.

While they were here, an old woman In a few minutes they were before the came in with her weaving apparatus-a little church of Saint Sebastian; and, part of a loom it seemed on her shoulwithout yet having spoken to the count. ders, and setting it down in a corner, ess, and without speaking, the artist de- crossed herself, said a prayer, and then scended and entered, while she remain- asked to see the sacred relics. Muried seated still in the carriage as before. etta remarked, with pleasure, that the A very small black monk was kneeling priest lighted the taper and put the red before an altar, and rising as our party curtain aside precisely the same for this entered, he lighted a taper on the staff, old weaver-woman as he did for the parand, coming forward, pulled aside a red ty of sovereigns from America. curtain, and showed the original foot- What had come between Murietta and prints of our Saviour.

the countess? Surely nothing had been The stone is of a brown color, hard said or done that day by either that they as marble, and eighteen inches square. should now be standing wide apart as it The prints are side by side, as close as were. possible, are rather large, and set at least The artist took his seat once more, an inch deep in the stone.

and once more without a word. The The rim or edge of the stone seems to lady did not look up. As the carriages be cased in gold. It stands up against whirled away that the party might see an altar to the right of the entrance to the sun go down from the tomb of Methe church, or monastery as it is call- tella, the lady's little pink-and-pearl ed here, and is kept under cover be- hands lay still on the flower-beds of hind a double iron gate. Here we are rose and pink, and her pretty baby-face also shown an arrow, said to be one of kept trying to hide back behind her those by which the martyr fell, and also companion. e portion of a stone pillar to which he Yea, they were standing wide apart. was bound when slain.

A stream was flowing between them. Johnny told the quiet little monk that it was growing cold in their hearts — cold enough to freeze the flowing stream then the ruins lift in mass above the to ice.

climbing grass and shrubs and trees. Ruins! ruins ! ruins! right and left. Sometimes, however, they loom up as if After passing the tomb of Metella, with they would never stop, and stand hunits girdle of ox-skulls bound in wreaths dreds of feet in the air. These will -a tomb that has been a battlement, a never fall. The earth may climb up palace, and a prison — they came to a around them; the grass will take root, tomb that has not even a name, and yet and in time will smooth the rugged it is almost as colossal as a pyramid and path; but they have melted together as twice as high.

it were in one solid mass, and stand “Marvelous, marvelous !” mused the like a spur of the Sierra. general, as they turned their carriages, Kind earth claims them for her own, and rested here for a moment before re- and has pressed them so long and so turning to Rome.

close against her breast that they have On the top of this lofty and colossal sunk all together, brick and mortar, in structure, that even the most imagina. one undistinguishable mass. tive Italian falters before, there is grow- The sun had gone down on Rome, ing a grove of olive-trees, and there is a and round about Rome on the mighty little farm - house perched up there, and mountain - tops was drawn a girdle of the man has really a little farm on the fire. top of his tomb.

Twenty miles away to the west, as While our party rested here, a cock they returned, flashed the sea in the came to the edge of his little world, and dying sun of Italy like a hemisphere of strutting up and down, he flapped his flame. wings and crowed above them, loud and Behind them, in the middle of the clear and defiant.

great Campagna, with its far-off wall of Then Johnny rose, and, standing up eternal and snowy mountains, huddled in his seat, answered back the challenge. together the white houses of Rome like Then the cock again strutted along the a flock of goats gathered to rest for the edge of his little world, and, looking con- night, and mighty Saint Peter's towered temptuously down again, crowed and above them all like a tall shepherd keepcrowed and crowed as the party drove ing watch and ward.

“Now I can see that it was no chance Here are ruins that will probably sur- or accident that built the Eternal City in vive all other structures now in exist- the centre of this mighty amphitheatre," ence, save the pyramids, either old or said Murietta. “Nature ordered it. She

pointed to the little group of hills lifting The one thing that saddens a man in out of the plain by the Tiber, and said, contemplating these great works is the ‘Build your city on the Palatine.'” reflection that the labor was all done by The countess did not answer; but the slaves-done by men chiefly brought man seemed inspired with the scene. captive from other lands and made to and went on as if speaking to himself: waste out their existence here in most “Yonder mighty crescent of snowy ignoble toil for masters as cruel and as mountains seems to me, as the sun is insolent as the Pharaohs.

fading from the forked summits, to be Yonder is the sacred wood, and hard but another, a more magnificent Coliseby the ruins of the temple of Bacchus. um. Yonder are the gladiators Do*, Here and there are mounds, and you can battling to the death-Papist and Prot guess what lies beneath. Only now and estant, Turk and Jew. O! this was a

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land to live and to die for, where cities in that brief battle surrendered his destood upon every hill and rose if by en- votion to art, denied his master, renounchantment from the valleys. It is even ced his love, and betrayed his loyalty to holier now. I would be content to live one who was waiting over the sea. here, to die here, and let the world go “Stop!” said the countess. “You by the other way."

bear her picture in your bosom?" The others of the party left the car- “Yes." riage to climb the summit of a little “Give it to the winds." mound of ruins to get the full glory of He drew forth the tiny picture whence the Italian sunset on the tomb of the it had rested ever since her own hand Cæsars, and the countess and Murietta had placed it above his heart. Once were left alone. She was first to speak. more he hesitated.

“And you love this land of mine, this “Do you falter ?" spot, this scene?

He tore it to pieces and threw it The artist thought of the wild battle away on the wind, and it blew away and of the world before him; the defeats, fell among the tombs. the heart-hunger after fame, the long “And now you have renounced her delay of success, the jealousy of men, entirely and forever?" the cold criticism of women, the face “I have." that was far away waiting for his tri- “And you love me, and me only, and umphal return from the capital of art. will remain in my land, and will worship Would he triumph? Could he win the me to the end ?” fight, and finally bear the palm in the “I do, I will! I promise you all that day of peace? It was doubtful. Here you ask.” were love, rest, fame, and plenty. His Again he reached out his arms. heart beat as if there was a battle with- She looked in his face with a look in his breast. He bowed his head in that was terrible. the hard struggle. It was over now. “Murietta," she slowly began, “I He lifted up his face and put out his loved you yesterday, I hated you last hands to take her to his heart. He had night, I despise you now.”

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THE LITTLE TROUBADOUR.

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LL readers are travelers ! More- St. Lo lies still, so still and picturesque,

over, they are voyageurs by the under the rain of streaming sunshine! easiest locomotion in the world, for the Little children with brown bare legs, pen of the writer bears them without ex- and keen-eyed men and women in white ertion from land to land, from sea to cotton caps, are picking up the fruitage sea.

of rich apples, shaken from the branchWe two, my reader and I, are now in ing boughs overhead. The presses northern France, in lovely "sea-coast, groan all day long, and the cider, clear 100k - full Normandy!” (Forgive me, like the sunshine, drips, drips, drips !

best great poet, Robert Browning, The driver of the patient shaggy horse, or borrowing your happy words.) We drawing round and round, swears at vill loiter for awhile, and sketch the times lustily, or drowsily chants the reEcene. The fair deep orchard - land of frain of some old Norman love-ditty.

It is now with us, but it seems to be returned mademoiselle. It was worn very long ago!

by the Huguenot d'Etoiles through all When was long ago, in truth ? Here those dreadful wars, and has more than we are in a room with a curtained bal- once been drenched in brave blood." cony, overlooking the estates pertaining There was a pause; a bell in the old to an old chateau with a Norman tow- Norman tower struck the hour in fine er. Two persons, besides ourselves, are great loud metallic strokes. loitering here: a lady and her attendant “I have often,” pursued the maiden cavalier. The lady is French, but the reflectively, “thought, what if my cousin gentleman is English. They are playing Gaston should unexpectedly come back at the world-old game of “Hearts," and some day. Then I should not be Ma. they both have youth, and beauty, and dame la Marquise any more among my wealth, together with gay temper and people. You know his body was found proud will, to back them in the audacity after that dreadful expedition of Mac with which they “make their play.” Mahon's into the mountains; and-and

Lieutenant Bertram had to-day, in his if -" visit, appeared ill at ease; this disturb- With pretty malice she left her senance at length grew so apparent in his tence suggestively unfinished. She distraite manner and wandering speech, knew very well that her speculations that it drew upon him a glance of re- regarding her cousin's possible return proof from the sweetest violet eyes that were utterly wild. She knew that if ever charmed a lover.

Gaston d'Etoile's body was never seen He colored. “Pardon my brusque- by his comrades who accompanied him rie,he said ; “but the truth is, I am on that terrible march into Algeria, it unexpectedly bade to return to England was because the brave young French to-night. I am trying to find the cour- soldier had, in the hands of the Kaby. age to say 'Adieu! but on my soul it is les, under that scorching sky where his hard !”

monument was now glittering, suffered “What!” cried Madamoiselle Ninon; a fate too terrible for words to tell, but "you are going to England, to-night?” one written in many of the annals of She felt that a treacherous quivering of bloody barbarian warfare. Mademoiher mouth was betraying her. She selle knew all this very well; but Lieu. caught up a cluster of fresh- gathered tenant Bertram had announced his inviolets and held them to her lips. “One tention of a speedy return to England does not like saying adieu to a friend.” too suddenly not to hurt her vanity, and She smiled with her dark- purple eyes she meant to make that evening's jourover the violets, so like them below. ney uncomfortable for him, if she could.

“But this shall not be adieu, Madem- “Ah! if he should return,” she sigboiselle Ninon !” He caught her hand, ed. Then she smiled coquettishly. The flowers and all, and held them in his. young Englishman dropped her hand. “I shall return to Normandy. Why, He did not even ask her for one of the what a beautiful ring you wear, Madem- violets. She began to fasten them in oiselle!” he cried suddenly, in a chan- her dress. ged voice. “And what a singular motto: “Your cousin Gaston could not be 'Hatred.' Your ring ought to have a otherwise than generous when he lookhistory, Mademoiselle Ninon.” ed in your face,” said the lieutenant

“It is an heir - loom, and was given sharply. “He could not do less thaa me by my cousin Gaston, when he went share his riches with you." away with his regiment into Algeria," “Do you have violets in England,

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Monsieur Henri?" asked the young “No, Ninon! surely you will not pungirl. She brushed back her brown hair ish me thus severely for a moment's and looked up at him. She was smil- thoughtless folly? You will give me ing, and her face was like one of the the song—one only? I implore you." roses in her garden, softly flushed and He put back the ribbon which she fair, with a little tremble through it; had thrown off displeased; she did not some quick emotion was flashing past resist the touch of his hand; she sung, with its bird-like wings.

with downcast face, a simple Provençal Lieutenant Bertram stalked to the air. Then she put the guitar away. window, looked out, and then returned “I can not sing to-day,” she said; “I to her.

am not in the mood-and at such times “Pardon, Mademoiselle," he said music comes hard to me." gravely, “but the steamer leaves the Yet what she did sing was beautiful, dock at six o'clock, and I find by my both in words and execution. The watch that I have just half an hour left young marquise possessed a wonderfulme. Will you sing me one song before ly sweet and sympathetic voice. Henri I go?

paid her the stereotyped compliments “O! with pleasure, Monsieur Henri. of society to beauty; then he added a Only you must tell me what it shall be.” word of his own in sincere thanks.

Mademoiselle Ninon took up her gui- “You have the true musician's art of tar and drew the broad band of scarlet putting yourself en rapport with your ribbon about her neck. Henri assisted hearers,” he said. “If you were obli. her, and as he did so he noticed with ged, by stress of fortune, to make song his keen hungry lover - eyes, what a pale your profession, you would soon win all pink reflection—just the ghost of a lov- the laurels fame has stored up in her er's lovely blush- the crimson satin treasury for future aspirants." threw upon the brunette cheek. The “I'll try some day,” cried Ninon joyone deep dainty dimple there seemed ously. “Then, Monsieur Henri, be on to fill and overflow with happy color. your guard. I shall speedily ascertain

“What shall it be?” asked Ninon, then how many of these fine society bending her cheek down and thrumming compliments are sincere, if the number the strings with white fingers. “My last paid to the marquise in her salon falls song for you must be a choice one, you off when wasted on the professional know."

singing-girl in the concert-room." But Henri, gazing at the rosy dimple, “Will you come to England and test lost his head for once.

us?” retorted the young officer gravely. “It is just the spot where a lover He took up his hat and stepped towould place a kiss,” he murmured. ward her, as if to say adieu. She in“Deep down, to get the sweetness.” voluntailry made a little quick impulsive

“Monsieur !” exclaimed the girl, as- gesture of regret. tonished.

“Ah! is it time?" she murmured. The “I beg your pardon,” faltered the violets in her belt fell to the floor. He young man, his face all aflame with con- gathered them carefully up and restored fusion. “I was thinking of something them to her. else."

“Will you give me a flower, Ninon ?" “Then I will put away my music," he asked softly. said Ninon, with an air of offended dig. “Ninon held a violet out to him, nity. “ It will simply annoy you, since without speaking. But her lips quivmore important matter fills your mind.” ered. Her fingers touched his, and she

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