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all the way unless it was 'presto reverence to kiss her nurseling s -Gigi ! or go faster, thou beast of hand, that Gigi's awe and wonder a donkey!' Alas, she never under- grew in just proportion. It was stood the virtues of that good true, then. Somehow it is always creature! and when we reached more convincing to see that another Rocca, if you will believe me, I was person believes in a new and great sent to bed immediately; and in the discovery than to be ever so sure morning there was the bambino ; one's self of the proofs of it. When per Baccu! and thou art Duke he heard his mother address her Agostini, and it was thee !"
former charge as Don Francisco “It is strange, certainly,” said when he saw the humility with Francisco, stopping the enthusiasm which she kissed the young man's of his new partisan ; “ but we are far hand, poor Gigi's wonder and enfrom the festa and the fireworks yet, thusiasm almost overwhelmed him. my Gigi. It may be long enough be- If he had not finished the polenta fore I can even bring my cause be- by this time, he might have missed fore the Tribunale; and, in the mean his dinner. He could scarcely be time, it will be much better that thou convinced that it was necessary to hold thy peace. But you would not go to the homely practical business fear to appear before the judges, Gigi, before him—to get out his horse, and say what you have said to mer and arrange the baskets and buudles
Gigi grew red and then pale, and which he and his mother had to take scratched his head once more. back with them to Rocca, or to
"I do not like the name of the leave Rome without seeing anything Tribunale, my son. They are not done towards the bringing about of good sport for poor men. Ah, Ec- that festa which should dazzle cellenza, scusa ! I will never remem- Monte Cavo. He could not see any ber thou art not Chichino; and these difficulties in the way, the innocent Monsignori are such great people- Gigi. Were not he and his mother they are confusing to a poor fellow ready to face the very Monsignori like me ; but to serve thy cause themselves if that was necessary?
Here came an interruption grate- and what could any Tribunale in ful to poor Gigi, in the shape of a the world, not to say in Rome, revoice, calling outside the Osteria quire more? His eagerness, his enupon Luigi Baretti. “Ecco !” cried thusiasm, and the blank face with that honest fellow in evident relief. which he yielded to the representaBut it was only Mariuccia, who came tions of Mariuccia, and reminded in, immediately afterwards, in all himself of the long road and early the glory of her festal costume-her sunset, were quite exhilarating to red jacket and embroidered apron Francisco. To be sure there were making quite a dazzling show, as she ditficulties known to that hero, which stood in the great doorway of the bad no weight with Gigi; but still, Osteria, concentrating in her person with witnesses so faithful, so deall the light there was. Mariuccia voted, and so unquestionabile, what came forward with such affectionate had the Duchessa's son to fear?
Francisco wandered about all day apartment and paint even the porlong, vainly trying to put some heart trait of the English Signorina. 'All into his old pursuits, and if he could Rome, so full of acquaintances and not determine what step to take first interests for him a little time ago, for the establishment of his claims, contracted into a narrow circle of at least to occupy or amuse bimself women dow-women not attractive in the interval." But vain was the to a young man--Teta, to whom attempt.
as impossible alone he could talk freely- Madame to stroll comfortably into the café Margherita, whom it was important and talk of indifferent things, as to keep on good terms with ;-ani! it was to mount up to his little very different, attracting him with
a strange horror and fascination, that “ Could any one suppose it,” said pale old witch face, so dismal in its the lady by Lucy's side, suddenly wasted beauty and exhausted pas- rousing her languid interest by the sion, the woman who was his mother. name. “Look at that old Duchessa The young man spent all the after- Agostini---she was a great beauty in noon lounging languidly about Monte her time.” Pincio looking into the carriages. "I wonder who that
Foung man When at last he did see the Duchessa is who stares at her 80," said their
-and, statiuning himself at one spot companion. “There's the oddest which her carriage passed, again and story going, about some mysterivus again, as it made the little round, son of hers who was lost or stulen, or fixed his eyes so fully and curiously something—or put in the foundling upon her that her curiosity was hospital, or I can't tell you what. aroused also-he thought he saw a But they say there is a son, though little eagerness in the face glancing nobody can tell where he is, or anyat him out of the carriage. He thing about him. Oh, she's a wicked thought that some thrill of recogni- old woman, that Duchessa ! I should tion looked out, startled and in believe anything bad of her. Now trouble, from the haughty wonder of we're just about coming to him. her eyes; and, with a quickened im- Look! I protest I think it must be pulse in his own, stood and gazed the Duchessa's son ?” fiercely, scarcely perceiving how the “Why, for all the world! what innocent English Lucy, in a guard of puts such an idea in your head ?invincible English matrons, passed what a romancer you are !” cried the same way. Roman as he was, Lucy's friend. “I see nothing par. he was accessible to other emotions ticular, for my part, about the than those of love-making. At that man.”. moment, he was no lover waiting “Ah, I know Rome! I know the for a smile. He was a man watch Italians! I know they don't look ing, courting the observation of one like that unless they mean somewho was at once the nearest kindred thing," said the other English woman, of his blood, and the bitterest enemy and I could swear he was like her, of his life.
the old fury! Dear, what an inLucy could see him, however, teresting thing! I am positive it though he was all but unconscious must be the Duchessa's son.” of the encounter, and the interest of Lucy said nothing, but the conthe English girl grew and increased. versation roused her effectnally-in He had not come there merely to the first place, with a great sense of see herself; it was with a purpose relief. He was no foreign swindler, that he stood under that tree, with that poor young Francisco !- that his eager eyes, motionless, and keep- she should have done him so much ing his post, while the carriages went injustice! and, to be sure, if he was round and round in their monotonous Duke Agostini, it was very unlikely circle. Lucy leant back in her corner, that grandpapa would object-that losing herself in a pleasant youthful is to say, she meant that grand papa trance, while the trees and the people would not be at all displeased to glided past-while Rome in the dis- receive a visitor of that rank. It was tance was now visible, now disap- nothing to Lucy; had she not bound peared-while the music of the band herself, by a solemn promise to grandsank and rose; as her chaperone's papa-poor, selfish, forlorn, old mancarriage went round and round the that she would never leave him while same course, she heard the voices he lived ? It was nothing to Lucy; running on in a lively strain-she but she was glad to think that jusheard the sound of the promenaders tice would be done to the young on foot-she saw that one face, eager painter, in whom it was quite natuand intent, so unlike the gay leisure ral, surely, to take an interest. of the rest ; and dimly conscious of People could not help taking an iueverything, but particularising no- terest in other people who were thing, felt herself borne along with pleasant and kind, especially if there a gentle motion both of person and was any injury in the case. So of thought.
Lucy concluded, with a little glow
of expectation and pleasure at her willing co-operation in hunting up heart.
various articles which Lucy fancied However, it was not till the second from her stock of old furniture, had evening after, that Lucy found her- been made into a kind of boudoir-a self free from the perpetual inspection maidenly fantastic appendix to the of my lord, or the chaperone he had drawing-room. She had a store of provided for her. My lord was a little jeweller's boxes round her, over wicked old roué, relapsed into com- and above the cameos, about which pulsory virtuousness by reason of old she was so very anxious to consult age and failing health; consequently her visitor-presents from grandpapa he had very little dependence to to herself, and purchases of her own, place now upon his innocent grand- which she meant to carry to her daughter, not having much know- friends at home. She thought it
. ledge, in his own experience, of what would be pleasant to show them to the quality of innocence was. All Sora Teta, who was always so goodunlearned as well in filial obligations humoured and friendly; and besides, and natural piety, my lord, much to it was so much easier to ask questions Lucy's disgust, had really made with when some other occupation was her the bargain above mentioned. going on. She was to stay with him until he “The Signorina must tell me what died, however long he might live; designs she wishes," said Teta, examand he was to leave her, in due re- ining the cameos," and I will ask ward, “a great fortune.” 'He had, it Civilotti to get some very fine ones appeared, a certain love for her, as for her; for the Signorina perceives an adjunct to his comfort; and but that I know Civilotti very well, befor that bargain, Lucy might have ing brought up in the Duchessa Agosloved grandpapa quite sutticiently tini's household ; the Duchessa loved to cling to him in youthful pity nothing so much as change; she and affection, at any cost to berself
. would have her jewels reset over and As it was, this agreement made the Poor Duchessa !-- don't you tie much less agreeable than it might think it must be dreadful, Signorina have been; and in some degree con- mia, to turn from a great beauty into verted the natural fealty into the an ugly old woman ?” obedience of a treaty, which, so long "Dreadful, indeed! and was she as it keeps by the letter, may be in- really a great beauty? and did you different enough to the spirit. She live with her when you were young? had no compunctions, accordingly, and what sort of a person is she?" to mar the gleam of satisfaction with asked Lucy, closing abruptly one of which she heard of a dinner engage- her jewel boxes, with an assumption ment, which did not include herself, of carelessness which betrayed her. and the prospect of“ a nice long even- Ah, Signorina, you good ladies of ing” for her own pleasure. Lucy the Forestieri, who do not love too thought she would look over her much distraction and divertimento expenses and balance her dainty - if you do not get as much pleasure accounts. And then there was that in your youth,” said the insinuating set of cameos for a bracelet, which Teta, at least you are not ugly she wanted other ornaments to cor- when you grow old, like the poor respond with. To be sure, Madame Duchessa. She is a very great lady, Costini — or Sora Teta, as Italian but I never could love her. I do custom called the buxom mistress of not think even my mother can love the house—was much the best person her, though she has been with her to apply to on this subject. Lucy forty years. She is somehow ayti. despatched Reynolds up-stairs in- patica, Signorina - I cannot explain stantly to beg a visit from their land- it to you; and Donna Anna, her lady, with rather a little secret satis- daughter, who is married to Don faction in the exceedingly plausible Angelo Lontoria, is very much the reason she had assigned to herself for same. Donna Anna is the only seeking an interview with Sora Teta. daughter. That will be another great She sat in a little inner room which, estate gone to the family Lontoria, by means of her own taste and Teta’s who are nobodies, if all goes well.”
“But then, Sora Teta,” Lucy said, “That is all, Signorina mia; and confidentially, “is not there another I say to him, patienza! the Madonna story? And the tale which Signore will raise him up friends; that is all Francisco the painter told me, what –that and the blessing of heaven," does it mean ?”
said the confident Teta. “For what “Nay, Signorina, how can I know would it avail the Duchessa to deny if you do not tell me?” cried Teta. him? My beautiful Signorina, MaThen changing her tone suddenly- dame Margherita brought him into “I can trust to you, Signorina mia; the world, and my mother was there it is true, that strange tale-he is the when he was born !” Duke Agostini, if there is justice in After this conclusive and convincthe world. My mother saw him born, ing statement, Teta proceeded to enand I saw him carried away, my beau- large upon the childhood of the wontiful Signorina. You are sympatica derful boy- details to which Lucy -you understand him-how noble certainly gave ear, and did not refuse he is. Ah, such a princely young to be interested; but a half-conscious man! And he knew nothing, if you suggestion, which made the poor girl's will believe me, Signorina, till the face flush one moment, and the most other day; nothing but that he was horrorstricken paleness overspread it an orphan child, and the son of St the next, but which, nevertheless, Michele. And now to get his cause would not be entirely extinguished, to the Tribunale, with advocates to ran parallel with all Lucy's thoughts. take care of it, and fees, and the rest, One day she herself should be richdrives him to the end of his wits, the one day! but only when grandpapa dear youth; for you would not have was dead—and Lucy's heart smote him borrow, such a young man as he her that she could' for a moment is; and for working as he says, that speculate on such a possibility. She would destroy his health-and to thought herself the most unnatural, what good, then, the dukedom and the most ungrateful of children. the estates ? But I tell him, pati- Grandpapa, who was so good to her! enza! the blessed Madonna will raise But slurring over that thought with him up friends."
a shudder, still, independent of grand“And do you think really,” said papa, the suggestion would returnLucy, too much interested to conceal one day or other Lucy should be an her interest—" do you really believe heiress -- should have more money that this is all that he needs-only than she knew what to do with : if money to carry on a lawsuit with? Francisco was still only Francisco -is that all ?"
THE FRESCO-PAINTINGS OF ITALY—THE ARUXDEL SOCIETY.
The new life which now awakens twilight steals along the plain, and in Italy incites a freshened interest night prowls forth for mischief. It in those great works which arose is the hour of parting breath-the in her former days of liberty. The moment that divides a life of high Arts in that hapless land have long renown from an untold future, whose been victims to the prostration which portal is the grave. Beauty still afflicts a nation hastening to decay. lingers in the languor of the placid The energy of the people being trod- cheek, but Decay's effacing, fingers den out, their wealth despoiled, and have come to sweep away her metheir freedom outraged, Art became mory. The vesper call is sounding, emasculate, and its ancient vitality or the more solemn bell for burial: was all but extinct. Italy indeed did we pace with heavy step the silent not remain even a secure resting place cloister, and hear the footfall echo for those treasures which the golden from the grave beneath. Cypresses, era of her genius had intrusted to like mutes of death. stand black her keeping The temple of the against the evening sky, and specPantheon, and the Flavian amphi- tral forms fade from the crumbling theatre have been long stripped and walls. What a world of ideal beauty pillaged. And in more recent days painted by imagination is going to soldiers have been billeted in monas- destruction! All that prophets have teries sacred to Fra Angelico-have told or poets have sung, is blazoned bivouaced in cloisters- bave smokrd, in fresco visions upon the decaying and drank, and sworn in refectories walls of desolated Italy. Towns lyhallowed by frescoes of the Last Sup- ing far from the beaten track, sequesper. And thus have the arts been tered among the lonely, Apendines, desecrated in Italy, and the land are ofttimes dowered with some local which was once their cradle has Giotto or Perugino, whose thoughts, become their grave. It is then, we even as their mountain homes, were think, at this moment specially fit- kindred with the skies. Here they ting that attention should be drawn lived, and here they died; and here to the work of devastation now and their beauteous works, still lingerfor many years threatening the great ing in life, are now, alas! in the last Italian frescoes with destruction. extremity of decay. Frescoes which, Yet a little while, and all remedy if seen in northern Europe, would may come too late. And Young kindle our colder hearts to unaccusItaly, when boasting of a possible tomed rapture, are still in Italy freedom, may have to deplore the ir- thickly strewn upon a land fertile reparable loss of those great trophies of genius as in spontaneous growth. which should ever be cherished as Many a path leading among the solithe charters of a nation's liberty and tary hills is under the guardian care gepius.
of the wayside chapel, where the Italy lies, as it were, hectic in Madonna, as the earthly mother or the expiring glow of sunset. The the heaven-crowned queen, painted dving glory of the full noonday with that loveliness which is akin to still burns in evening splendour; mercy, offers shelter to the weary and brit shadows lengthen, and storm- salvation to the lost. In districts clouds thicken ; and whether the remote from the crowded haunts of pron ised morn' be bright in hope men, does many a fabled miracle of or dark in tempest, who shall say ? saint seem to have wrought a miracle In the arts, too, it is the witch- of art. The climbing steps and the ing hour of closing day; a fading winding pathway, leading among lustre still lingers in the sky, but overhanging rocks and clustering
The Publications of the Arundel Society for promoting the knowledge of Art, from the first year, 1849, to the eleventh issue, 1859; with the Report presented to the Annual Meeting in 1860.