*V :«**hKI 
 
 m 
 
 • 
 
 -i/s 
 
LI E> RARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 U N I VLRSITY 
 
 Of ILLINOIS 
 
H 
 
 
 
 
&nselmo; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE DAY OF TRIAL. 
 
 A ROMANCE. - 
 
 «^SS><3*S*«Si 
 
 IN FOUR VOLUMES, 
 
 BY 
 
 MARY IHLL, 
 
 AUTHOR OF THE FOREST OF COMALVA, $c, 
 
 To live with fame, 
 The gods allow to many ; bat to die 
 With equal lustre, is a Dieting Heaven 
 Selects from all the choicest boons of fate, 
 And with a sparing hand on few bestows. 
 
 GLOVER. 
 
 — »<&«— 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 X OND ON : 
 
 PRINTED AT THE 
 
 FOR A. K. NEWMAN AND CO* 
 
 LEADENHALL-STREET. 
 1813. 
 
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 9 
 
 u~> 
 
 CD 
 
 a> 
 
 
 ANSEIMO. 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 5* Live there men who slight immortal Fame? 
 
 O & 
 
 25 Who, then, with incense, shall adore our name ? 
 
 But, mortals, knew 'tis still our greatest pride, 
 
 To blaze those virtues which the good would hide. 
 
 Rise ! muses, rise ! add all your tuneful breath, 
 
 These must not sleep in darkness and in death, 
 
 ■She said: in air the trembling music floats, 
 
 And on the winds triumphant swell the notes; 
 
 So soft, though high, so loud, and yet so clear, 
 
 Even list'ning angels lean from heaven to hear : 
 
 To farthest shores, th' ambrosial spirit flies, 
 
 Sweet to the world, and grateful to the skies. 
 
 Temple of Fame. 
 
 j^LMIDST the solemn grandeur of the 
 
 Appenines, in the year 1689, stood an 
 
 ancient gothic castle, defended by strong 
 
 voii. i. b battlements. 
 
2 ANSELMO. 
 
 'battlements, and surrounded with an al- 
 most impassable fosse ; accessible only 
 by the narrow pass afforded by a massy 
 drawbridge, which, flanked by two tur- 
 rets, guarding a portcullis, formed a 
 protection in those times of warfare with 
 the -neighbouring states, absolutely ne- 
 cessary for the safety of its inhabitants. 
 Here resplendent magnificence main- 
 tained her seat, and proudly bade defi- 
 ance to the invading marauders, who at 
 this period sought to destroy, and to lay 
 waste Italia's fertile plains, and for ever 
 extinguish its pristine glory. This noble 
 edifice bein£ thus secured from the at- 
 tack of savage banditti, or attempt of 
 the unjust invader of a people's rights, 
 here 1 eace, with all her attendant train 
 of smiling loves, almost from time im- 
 memorial, had been accustomed to reign 
 without alloy ; and here, in some parts, 
 uncultivated nature, variegated with 
 agreeable wildness, surrounded the scene; 
 Whilst, in others, all the elegancies of 
 
 human 
 
ANSELMO. 3 
 
 human art were called in aid, to diversify 
 and to improve its bright original. The 
 long-extended avenues, which contained 
 the beauteous elm, the sycamore, and 
 oriental plane, although they presented 
 a gloomy appearance, were of utility, 
 as their beneficial effects served to shade 
 the castle from the noonday heat, and 
 to greatly heighten its solemnity. Here 
 Pomona, likewise, shed her richest stores, 
 whilst heaven-taught songsters breathed 
 forth melodious strains of joy to their 
 celestial visitor, for diffusing plenty 
 through the land. Through every lawn, 
 beside every grove and enamelled plain, 
 flowed crystal rivulets, embanked with 
 odoriferous shrubs and flowers, to enrich 
 the scene, and to ^adorn it with inex- 
 pressible variety. But the chiefest beau- 
 ty of this Arcadian landscape, from which 
 science boasts its origin, and decoration 
 its splendour, was a temple erected to 
 the south of the castle, which had, in 
 -ancient times, been dedicated to Miner- 
 b 2 va. 
 
4 ANSELMO. 
 
 va. This superb pile of building rose 
 majestically to the sight, and displayed, 
 amidst this sylvan scene, one of the most 
 valued relics of Roman sculpture. Lofty 
 pillars of the Corinthian order supported 
 the fabric, which consisted of varied 
 sorts of marble, the most beautiful in 
 form and colour. The windows were of 
 painted glass, representing the different 
 parts of heathen mythology. A noble 
 terrace surrounded the dome of the tem- 
 ple, which, gradually rising into a cone, 
 formed a cupola ; it was encircled with 
 gold latticing, and embellished with all 
 the insignia sacred to the goddess to 
 whom the edifice was dedicated. 
 
 This domain was the hereditary pos- 
 session of count Anselmo, the last sur- 
 viving branch of an illustrious family ; 
 not dignified by birth alone, but from 
 the innumerable acts of heroism, which 
 had been most conspicuously displayed 
 by his ancestors. The dying words of 
 the father to the son were — ts Seek not 
 
 for 
 
ANSELMO. S 
 
 for happiness but at the shrine of glory I 
 be the champion of your country's ho- 
 nour ! live not for yourself, but for 
 others ! then, when the awful period, 
 in which you now behold your parent, 
 must to yourself arrive, a refulgent 
 light will beam across your soul, scenes 
 of substantial felicity be presented to 
 your view, and your last expiring sigh 
 will be wafted to heaven, the messenger 
 to prepare you for never-failing bliss.** 
 
 This pious and affecting exhortation 
 sunk deep into the heart of the young 
 Anselmo, who could only reply (inter- 
 rupted by mental agony, whilst pressing 
 the almost-lifeless hand of his father to 
 his bosom) — t( I will never be the cause 
 of an inglorious stain on our family, on 
 the revered name of Anselmo L" 
 
 For eighteen months after the me- 
 lancholy event took place, the count 
 avoided all society ; sequestered in his 
 paternal mansion, he entirely devoted 
 himself to study, which, although for 
 b 3 the 
 
O ANSELMO. 
 
 the present irksome to his ambitious and 
 enterprising spirit; prepared him the 
 better for those active scenes in which 
 afterwards he was engaged. He pos- 
 sessed a form at once elegant and ma- 
 jestic, commanding the instantaneous- 
 respect of every one ; yet not without 
 being joined to some degree of fear, 
 arising from the grave and penetrating 
 cast of his countenance, the expression 
 cf which was the herald that announced, 
 Without the aid of speech, what passed 
 within his soul. The pursuits usually 
 followed with avidity by young men of 
 his age, and particularly in that adoration 
 to the fair sex which in southern climates 
 is so distinguishable, was always con- 
 demned in the strongest terms by An- 
 selmo, as a life of inglorious ease. 
 When rallied by his friends on the sub- 
 ject, he would reply with firmness, that 
 — ff The post of honour should never be 
 deserted for a woman." His mother 
 died the hour she gave him birth. An- 
 
 selmc* 
 
ANSEL MO. T 
 
 selmo was therefore nurtured froin in- 
 fancy under the sole direction of his 
 father, and brought up in the art of 
 war and study of eloquence, Demos^ 
 thenes being his model ; thereby en- 
 abling him to shine with equal praise m 
 the senate and in the field. On his arri- 
 val at manhood, several matrimonial al- 
 liances, highly advantageous, were of- 
 fered for his acceptance, yet were they 
 invariably rejected by Anselmo. 
 
 In the autumn of the year 1690, the 
 count took his departure from the castle 
 of Valleroy, and proceeded to the splen- 
 did court of Savoy, by invitation of its 
 illustrious duke, in whose service he was 
 then engaged. 
 
 As nothing material occurred to arrest 
 attention, we shall now pass over several 
 years of his residence in that country, 
 during which period the count rose, with 
 the greatest rapidity, to the most dis- 
 tinguished offices in the state, blessed 
 b 4 with 
 
8 ANSELMO. 
 
 with fortune, fame, and indeed with the 
 height of human grandeur. 
 
 One morning, on his return home 
 from the duke's levee, he was apprized 
 by his servant that a lady, apparently in 
 great affliction, solicited an interview 
 with him, having in her possession a let- 
 ter which must be personally delivered. 
 
 Anselmo, whose thoughts were then 
 agitated with state affairs, replied, " That 
 he could admit no strangers/' but di- 
 rected his secretary, signior Lusignan, to 
 attend on the lady. The servant depart- 
 ed, and shortly after returned with a 
 card, announcing the name of the sup- 
 plicant as madame de Montauban. 
 
 The count hesitated, yet after some 
 minutes of deliberation, again exclaimed 
 " I cannot see her !" when instantly the 
 door of the chamber opened, and signior 
 Lusignan appeared leading in the stran- 
 ger. 
 
 Anselmo started, but on recovering 
 
 himself, 
 
ANSELMO. 9 
 
 himself, offered her a chair, and requested 
 she would be seated. 
 
 Madame was at that period in her 
 thirtieth year, and although in deep 
 sorrow, she possessed one of the finest 
 countenances in nature ; her interesting 
 form commanded immediate admiration; 
 and the intelligence of her look and 
 manner, respect and love, from all be- 
 holders. 
 
 Anselmo, notwithstanding his boasted 
 indifference to the sex in general, could 
 not view unmoved such a combination 
 of charms as were now presented to 
 his sight. The count had often heard 
 mention of the beauty of Almeria de 
 Montauban, but he now observed that 
 it was far above all representation. Her 
 husband, general de Montauban, had 
 been banished, by order of the duke of 
 Savoy, to the island of Sardinia, and 
 imprisoned for more than five years, at 
 the instigation of some secret enemy* 
 who had represented him as hostile to> 
 b 5 the 
 
10 ANSELMO. 
 
 the existing government; and likewise 
 for being the author of a libel, several 
 copies of which had been found in his 
 possession. 
 
 Montauban, therefore, in the dead of 
 night, was torn from the embraces of 
 his family, and conveyed under a 
 strong guard to Sardinia, without even 
 being permitted to impart one word of 
 comfort to his almost distracted wife, 
 whose frantic cries would have pierced 
 the most obdurate heart. 
 
 Time, however, the great soother and 
 only remedy for mental anguish, so far 
 recovered the health of the amiable Al- 
 ineria, as to allow her, after a period of 
 some months, to consign her son Albert, 
 a lovely boy then about twelve years of 
 age, to the care of her brother, signior 
 Orville, she having obtained permission 
 of the government to console and com- 
 fort poor Montauban in his captivity. 
 
 At length, by the active vigilance of 
 the friends of Jhe general, they thought 
 
 they 
 
ANSELMO. II 
 
 thev had discovered the real writer of 
 the libel. Montauban, therefore, had 
 now sent his wife to Turin, in order to> 
 strengthen the claims which had already 
 been made in favour of him ; and to pre- 
 sent a petition to the duke of Savoy,, 
 for the purpose of soliciting a public 
 trial, that the general might be enabled 
 to clear his character from the false and 
 villanous aspersions which had been pass- 
 ed on it. 
 
 Almeria, on her arrival at Turin, was 
 advised, in the first instance, to make a 
 personal application to the count An^ 
 selmo, who, at that period, was high in 
 favour with the court party, to sue for 
 his intercession with the duke, on behalf, 
 of her husband. For this purpose was 
 the wife of Montauban now exerting all 
 her powers of rhetoric with Anselmo, 
 and well was she endowed by nature for 
 the arduous task. A juster idea cannot 
 be afforded to the mind of the reader of 
 the success that might be expected to 
 fi 6 follow 
 
19 ANSELM0. 
 
 follow her solicitation, than to quote 
 the language of the immortal bard, that 
 
 " In her youth 
 There is a prone and speechless dialect, 
 Such as moves men ; besides, she hath a prosp'rous art, 
 When she would play with reason and discourse ; 
 And well she can persuade." 
 
 Nor was it then lost on the grave and 
 senatorial Anselmo, who at length pro- 
 mised to become the friend, the advo- 
 cate of Montauban, whose address to the 
 duke was, at the particular request of 
 the count, read aloud by the weeping 
 Almeria, to the following effect : — 
 
 te MOST HIGH AND ILLUSTRIOUS PRINCE, 
 
 <e Your faithful and devoted 
 servant, Leontine de Montauban, a woe- 
 ful prisoner in the island of Sardinia, 
 with the utmost submission and reverence 
 to your royal highness's decrees, what- 
 ever 
 
ANSELMO. IS 
 
 ever they may be, yet fully relying on 
 the known love of justice which has so 
 conspicuously marked your august reign, 
 I do humbly pray for your highness's 
 clemency. That I am innocent of the 
 heavy charge alledged against me, God 
 is my witness, by whose omnipotence 
 alone, I hope I have been enabled to dis- 
 cover one of the many who no doubt 
 conspired to injure me in my royal mas- 
 ter's opinion. The prayer of my pe- 
 tition is, therefore, to be allowed a public 
 trial, by which I may be enabled to clear 
 my own character, to bring to light my 
 unjust accusers, and to prove to the 
 world, that however iniquity may flou- 
 rish for a while, yet certain dishonour 
 will in the end pursue those who subsist 
 by cruelly inflicting misery on others, 
 I humbly beg leave to sign myself 
 Your royal highness's 
 Most faithful and loyal subject, 
 
 Leontine de Montauban. 
 
 Done at my prison, 
 February 28, 1701," 
 
 Having 
 
14 ANSELMO.- 
 
 Having read it, she closed the paper, 
 and presented it to Anselmo; and with 
 full confidence in his endeavours being 
 crowned with ultimate success, she de- 
 parted, expressing at the same time her 
 warmest thanks, and in assuring the 
 count of the gratitude Montauban would 
 ever feel for his benevolence. 
 
 The interview Anselmo had just had 
 with Almeria was of that kind the most 
 capable of affecting the human heart* 
 A young and amiable woman, pleading 
 the cause of a husband, on whose hap- 
 piness or misery, through life, depended; 
 that of hers, is certainly accompanied 
 with an almost irresistible claim to our 
 attention and generosity. 
 
 Several weeks, however, were passed 
 by madame de Montauban in anxious 
 suspense, respecting the success or fail- 
 ure of her application. Hope, fear, and, 
 doubt, had alternately taken possession 
 of her mind ; but at the end of a month 
 alL anxiety was terminated; for on her 
 
 second 
 
ANSEL MO* 15 
 
 second interview with count Anselmo, 
 who had obligingly waited on the fair 
 supplicant, to announce the reply of his 
 sovereign relative to the petition of her 
 husband, he imparted to her the pleasing 
 intelligence of the prayer being granted, 
 with full permission to seek the redress 
 he solicited for. 
 
 The sudden change in the countenance 
 of Almeria, from hopeless despondence 
 to the liveliest joy, spoke most forcibly 
 to the feelings of the count, the sincerity 
 of her love for Montauban : he there- 
 fore suggested that an immediate cou- 
 rier should be sent off to apprize the 
 general of the result. "Oh,. no," re- 
 plied madame, with peculiar energy, " I 
 will be myself the messenger, the bearer 
 of the happy tidings, as the conviction 
 that every moment that will be leading 
 me nearer to him, may allay much of 
 the inquietude I do even yet suffer on 
 his account. Fears for his health, strange 
 presages of future evil, ever the com- 
 
 panion 
 
16 ANSELMO. 
 
 panion I believe of the unfortunate, con- 
 tinually possess me, and— — "— " My 
 dear madam," said the count, rising from 
 his seat, and hastily interrupting her* 
 " I fervently hope, when I have the sa- 
 tisfaction of again seeing you, these 
 forebodings of unhappiness may have 
 given way to the delightful sensation of 
 promising felicity. " After which, with 
 every demonstration of his friendship, 
 Anselmo departed, almost overpowered 
 with her thanks and benedictions. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
ANSELMO. it 
 
 : CHAP. ir. 
 
 " Dignity and grace 
 Adorn his frame, and manly beauty, join'd 
 With strength Herculean; on Ins aspect shines* 
 Subiimest virtue, and desire of fame 
 Where justice gives the {laurel; in his eye,. 
 The extinguishable spark which fires 
 The souls of patriots ; while his brow supports 
 Undaunted valour and contempt of death." 
 
 Such was Leontine de Montauban, for 
 whom the count had already professed 
 so great an interest; not merely at the 
 representation tendered by Almeria, but 
 from having frequently heard the most 
 honourable mention of the general by 
 the officers of his regiment, by whom he- 
 was 
 
J& ANSELMO. 
 
 was universally beloved and respected^ 
 To the parents of Almeria the count had. 
 heen more than once introduced by his 
 father, the elder Anselmo having been 
 , on terms of intimacy with them during 
 their residence in Venice. St. OrvilleV 
 although not in affluent circumstances, 
 had contrived on his small patrimony to 
 educate his son and two daughters, Al- 
 meria and Olivia, in all the branches of 
 polite literature. Possessed of every 
 accomplishment, united to great per- 
 sonal charms, and of unblemished cha- 
 racter, the family of St. Orville had been 
 early received amongst the first circles 
 of fashionable life : they did not court 
 esteem or popularity, but it followed, 
 them wherever they went. 
 
 Adjoining to their villa, which was re- 
 markable for the beauty of its situation 
 and elegant simplicity, stood the cha- 
 teau of Montauban, formerly belonging 
 to a French marquis of that name, who 
 had. been a resident in Italy for many 
 
 years v 
 
AXSELMO. 10 
 
 years. Various conjectures were assigned 
 for the reason of his deserting his. native 
 country; the most probable, however, was, 
 that in early life he had formed a tender 
 attachment for a lady, who had for a 
 length of time been betrothed to another, 
 an English nobleman, to whom she was 
 afterwards married. This event, it was 
 supposed, gave the marquis of Montau- 
 ban a disgust to France, and from having 
 an esteemed friend resident in Italy, ta 
 determine him to pass the remainder of 
 his clays in that country, where soon 
 after he married a Venetian lady of high 
 birth, and the fruit of that union was 
 the present general de Montauban. The 
 marquis, however, was far from being 
 happy ; a first love still held the empire 
 o'er his heart ; and being of an extreme 
 jealous disposition, he even doubted the 
 legitimacy of his offspring. At length 
 differences grew so high between them, 
 they mutually agreed to separate. The 
 marchioness returned to her nearest re- 
 lation. 
 
£0 ANSELMO. 
 
 Iation, a brother then a resident at Naples, 
 with her infant Leontine, who was ren- 
 dered, if possible, more dear to her, from 
 the cruel severity it had met with from 
 Its father, the marquis having extended 
 the same dislike to his son that he felt 
 for his wife Leonora. 
 
 In the space of five years, she was 
 Jeft a portionless widow, her husband 
 at his death having bequeathed his im- 
 mense fortune to this friend, who was 
 the superior of the monastery of Camal- 
 doli. This unjust act, however, did not 
 in the least depress the spirits of the 
 marchioness, all her wants being amply 
 supplied by her brother, count Fer- 
 nando, with whom she continued to- 
 reside, until Leontine had arrived at the 
 age of one-and-twenty. At that period 
 Fate separated them from their endeared 
 relation. The count Fernando, on re- 
 turning one evening from the church of 
 Notre Dame, in company with his sister 
 and nephew^ was assassinated* The vil- 
 la i n ^ 
 
AttSELMO. 21 
 
 lain, on plunging his poniard into the 
 breast of the count, exclaimed, " Now 
 my revenge is gratified ! so fare you 
 well" Such was the adroitness with 
 which this diabolical deed was executed, 
 that in one moment the unfortunate Fer- 
 nando became a lifeless corpse. Mont- 
 aiiban called aloud for assistance, and 
 endeavoured to arrest the flight of the 
 murderer; he however eluded all dis- 
 covery. 
 
 To describe the agonized feelings of 
 Leonora on beholding this distressing 
 -event, is impossible. A gentleman who was 
 passing at the time assisted Leontine in 
 supporting the lifeless form of his uncle 
 to an adjoining house, where they were 
 instantly admitted by the humane owner; 
 and had every aid administered to the 
 hapless count, but with no effect — life was 
 quite extinguished. 
 
 The marchioness was inconsolable for 
 his loss; she had tenderly loved Fernan- 
 do, not merely from his being so closely 
 
 allied 
 
22 ANSELMO. 
 
 allied to her, but from the excellent 
 virtues with which the count had been 
 so conspicuously adorned. Montauban, 
 perceiving that his mother continued to 
 indulge, too fatally for her repose, the 
 remembrance of his uncle, strenuously 
 advised her to return to Venice, which 
 city was the residence of the marchioness's 
 late parents, where they had many 
 friends. This request, after much per- 
 suasion, she adopted, and Montauban, 
 fearful his mother might regret the as- 
 senting to it, lost no time in carrying 
 it into execution. The estates of the 
 count, from his being unmarried, legally 
 descended to his sister, and for which 
 they soon found a purchaser. Leontine 
 and his mother then departed from the 
 melancholy scene, and, on their journey 
 to Venice, they determined to pass seve- 
 ral days at Rome. 
 
 In this ancient and beautiful city, the 
 curiosity of Montauban, and his ardent 
 desire of procuring classical information, 
 
 was 
 
ANSELMO. 23 
 
 ivas amply gratified. As the carriage 
 rolled under the triumphal arch, erect- 
 ed in honour of Titus, and on which is 
 represented, in basso-relievo, the empe- 
 ror in a car drawn by four horses, return- 
 ing from his brilliant victories over th£ 
 Jews in Jerusalem, Montauban ex-. 
 claimed with rapture, (c Oh mother, such/ 
 noble deeds as there inscribed make me 
 ashamed of the inglorious life I lead — I 
 can no longer remain inactive, when my 
 country requires assistance — do but suffer 
 me to enter the lists of Fame, artd your 
 son will endeavour to imitate the fran- 
 scendant qualities of a Titus \" 
 
 The leading trait in the character of 
 the marchioness was ambition ; this ar- 
 dour of her son, therefore, to commence 
 a military life, met with no opposition. 
 With what pleasure then did Leontinc 
 visit the monumental records of those 
 departed heroes, who by their achieve- 
 ments had once rendered Rome the first 
 city in the world ! The temples, the the- 
 atres, 
 
24 ANSELMO. 
 
 atres, and the mutilated remains of stately 
 palaces, which had formerly been adorn- 
 ed with all the luxurious refinements of 
 the East, alike engaged his attention. 
 " In these edifices/' he exclaimed, " I 
 feel the Roman spirit rise within me; 
 here the conquerors held their councils, 
 under these roofs once flourished, with 
 godlike greatness, a Caesar ! a Con- 
 stantine ! here, too, a Cicero, with all- 
 subduing eloquence, beyond even the 
 conception of our days, declaimed for 
 virtue's cause, in the presence of thou- 
 sands of his countrymen, and whose ap- 
 probation of any design projected by 
 the warriors was thought equivalent to 
 an army V* 
 
 The noble palace of the Vatican did 
 not fail likewise to draw forth the ad- 
 miration of Leontine, which for its 
 magnificence, the great variety of apart- 
 ments that it contains, and its extensive 
 library, filled with the most valuable 
 books, and rarest manuscripts, is justly 
 
 estimated 
 
ANSELMO. 25 
 
 estimated as the first princely residence 
 in Europe. From the gallery of the 
 Vatican, communicating with chateau 
 St. Ange, they proceeded to view that 
 fortress; and on returning from thence 
 to their hotel, an incident occurred 
 which chased away, for the present, all 
 Montauban's ideas of glory. Signior 
 Orville, with his two daughters, were 
 then on a visit to a relation at Rome ; 
 he was passing near the Vatican at the 
 time the marchioness's carriage drew up 
 to the gates of the palace to receive 
 them ; and having been on terms of 
 friendship with the marquis of Montau- 
 ban, he addressed himself to her by 
 name, and paid his respects. St. Orville 
 was instantly recognised by the mar- 
 chioness, who, on account of his having 
 been one of the executors of her late 
 husband's effects, was therefore received 
 with much pleasure, and invited to spend 
 {he evening with them at their hotel. 
 
 Sighior Orville was true to his an- 
 yol. i, c pointment ; 
 
96 AXSELMO. 
 
 pointment; and on his being introduced 
 by the marchioness to Leontine, he pre- 
 sented to the latter a sealed packet, but 
 with this injunction, that Montauban 
 was not to inspect its contents until his 
 departure. Orville likewise related much 
 useful information during this visit to 
 his mother, and dwelt particularly on 
 the injustice of the will of the marquis 
 de Montauban, which he thought had 
 nevertheless been illegally executed, no 
 persqn having signed it, except the 
 advocate and the monk of Camaldoli, 
 into whose hands the whole of the for- 
 tune had devolved. The marchioness, 
 in answer, said she grieved only for her 
 son, who, in being thus deprived of his 
 inheritance, was prevented from acting 
 with the munificence his heart would 
 otherwise have dictated—" Leontine, how- 
 ever/' she continued, " proposes to enter 
 into the army, where I have no doubt 
 his merits will be justly rewarded by his 
 country. To-morrow we propose again 
 
 commencing 
 
ANSELMO. 27 
 
 commencing our journey towards Ve- 
 nice ; if you have any commands, there- 
 fore, for that place, signior, we shall be 
 happy to execute them." 
 
 St. Orville, on returning thanks for 
 her politeness, said he had a trifling com- 
 mission with which he would trouble 
 her. Ke then obtained leave to wait on 
 the marchioness the succeeding morning, 
 and departed. 
 
 The packet was now immediately un- 
 sealed by Leontine, to satisfy his curi- 
 osity. Great was the astonishment of 
 Montauban and his mother in perusing 
 its contents. The late marquis, from the 
 partiality he entertained for the family 
 of St. Orville, and to remunerate for 
 the trouble of his being an executor, 
 had ]eh him as a legacy the chateau de 
 Montauban, to be disposed of as he 
 thought proper. It was yet in the pos- 
 session of signior Orville, but inhabited 
 only by the domestics of its late master. 
 This just Venetian had always determined 
 c 2 on 
 
£8 ANSELMO. 
 
 on restoring the estate to its lawful heir, 
 if he should survive the attainment of 
 twenty-one years of age. That period 
 was now arrived ; St. Orville learnt that 
 the son of his friend was living, and a 
 resident with his mother at Naples; the 
 object, therefore, of his present journey 
 (if he had not met with him thus by ac- 
 cident at Rome) was for that purpose. 
 The packet presented to Leontine de 
 Montauban, whom Orville addressed by 
 the title of marquis, was the assignment of 
 the estate in question, with an apology 
 for having so long retained it, but which 
 St. Orville expressed to be from the ap- 
 prehension, that during his minority, it 
 might have been wrested from him, by 
 the consummate art and treachery of the 
 monk of Camaldoli. 
 
 The gratitude of the marchioness and 
 her son, at this unbounded generosity of 
 signior Orville, who was to them almost 
 
 a stranger, is inexpressible. 
 
 : Leontine instantly flew to the resi- 
 dence 
 
ANSELMO. 2'9 
 
 clence of his benefactor; and on inquir- 
 ing for him, was answered by the servant, 
 that St. Orville was not within, but 
 that his eldest daughter would receive 
 any message he had to deliver. Mont- 
 auban, therefore, sent up his name to 
 sisnora Orville ; and on being ushered 
 by the domestic into an apartment, he 
 l*ehe!d Afmeria, who appeared to him as a 
 divinity. The overflowings of a grateful 
 heart deprived him of the power of ut- 
 terance. 
 
 The unstudied graces of her deport- 
 ment, the beauty, the dignity of her 
 form, and the sweet complaisance with 
 which she received Montauban, all con- 
 spired to heighten the fascination wi'th 
 which he was already enchained. He 
 would, have spoken, but could not; and 
 this painful silence was as distressing to 
 Almeria as to himself. The entrance, 
 however, of signior Orville relieved them 
 from their mutual embarrassment. 
 
 To relate the gratitude of the one for 
 c 3 a benefit 
 
30 ANSELMO. 
 
 a benefit received, or the joy of the 
 other in having it in his power to be- 
 stow happiness on a deserving character, 
 would bo superfluous. The language of 
 the heart, in the first instance, and the 
 eloquent looks which accompanied it, 
 spoke the obligation which St. Orville 
 had conferred with more sincerity than 
 the parade of words usually adopted on 
 such occasions. 
 
 Leontine, whose heart had received a 
 deep impression in favour of Almeria^ 
 at the same time that he acknowledged 
 the munificence of the Venetian, de- 
 clined accepting it, without St. Orville 
 would tender him the permission to pay 
 his addresses to his incomparable daugh- 
 ter, that she might be a partaker of the 
 splendour which awaited him. This pro- 
 posal was not rejected, and in the space 
 of three months, signora St. Orville be- 
 came marchioness de Montauban. Le- 
 onfine then took possession of his fa- 
 ther's castle: his mother,, at the particu- 
 lar 
 
AXSELMO. 31 
 
 Jar request of Almeria, still continuing 
 to reside with them, in the enjoyment of 
 every felicity. 
 
 The first abatement to the happi- 
 ness of the young marchioness was 
 her husband's determination of entering 
 into the Piedmontese army; and as she 
 resolutely persisted in her intention of 
 accompanying him through the peri- 
 lous scenes of warfare, Almeria was 
 obliged to separate herself from her son 
 Albert, then about seven years of age, 
 leaving him under the care of his grand- 
 mother. In a very few years the marquis 
 rose by his merits to the rank of gene- 
 ral ; and prosperity and honour seemed 
 to smile with benignant influence on the 
 house of Montauban. The olive branch 
 of peace again waved over his native 
 land, and the hero was returning to his 
 paternal mansion, in the hopes of passing 
 the remainder of his life in tranquillity. 
 Mark the reverse — scarcely had the ge- 
 c 4. nerai 
 
52 AXSELMO. 
 
 neral concluded on visiting his domains, 
 ere he found himself a prisoner, depriv- 
 ed of his title and his fortune ; all being 
 confiscated to the government of Pied- 
 mont ; and from the violence of the fac- 
 tion, which had so undeservedly risen 
 against him, he was dragged to the loath- 
 some prison of Oristagni, in the island of 
 Sardinia. The hapless fate of Montau- 
 ban proved a death-stroke to his aged 
 mother, who only survived two days 
 after that distressing event. During his 
 imprisonment, accumulated evils awaited 
 this unfortunate family : the mournful 
 news arrived to Leontine and AInaeria 
 of the death of the humane, the gene- 
 rous, and noble-minded Venetian, St. 
 Orville. In accompanying his youngest 
 daughter and her husband over to Eng- 
 land, on the very morning the vessel 
 hove in sight of Britain, prompted by 
 his humanity to save a female passenger, 
 who had fallen overboard, poor St. Qr- 
 
 vill4 
 
ANSELMO. 33 
 
 ville, although his endeavours proved 
 successful in rescuing the lady, he fell a 
 sacrifice to his exertions. 
 
 To meliorate, however, the grief of 
 the mourners, the brother of Almeria 
 had been actively engaged in their ser- 
 vice, in attempting to trace out the writer 
 of the libel ,* which having, in some de- 
 gree, succeeded, it was by his advice that 
 she was now in Turin, where every thing 
 appeared to promise a successful issue. 
 Not a day, not an hour, was then lost by 
 Almeria, in the endeavour of releasing 
 her husband from his unjust captivity. 
 
 c 5 CHAR 
 
34 ANSELMQ. 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 When I approach 
 Her loveliness, so absolute she seems, 
 And in herself complete ; so well to know 
 Her own, that what she wills to do or say 
 Seems wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best ; 
 All higher knowledge in her presence falls 
 Degraded ; wisdom, in discourse with her, 
 Loses, discountenanced, and like folly shews-; 
 Authority and reason on her wait 
 As one intended first, not after made 
 Occasionally ; and to consummate all — 
 Greatness of mind, and nobleness, their seat 
 Build in her loveliest, and create an awe 
 About her, as a guard angelic plac*d. Milton. 
 
 Immediately after that count Ansel- 
 mo had informed Almeria of the suc- 
 cess attendant on her mission, she com- 
 menced 
 
JlffSELMO. 35 
 
 menced her journey to Leghorn, for the 
 purpose of embarking for Sardinia. The 
 grand and sublime scenes which every- 
 where presented themselves, to arrest the 
 attention and amuse the eye of a tra- 
 veller, were beheld, however, with per- 
 fect indifference by madame de Mont- 
 auban, whose thoughts being so inces- 
 santly occupied on the completion of 
 her journey, rendered her regardless of 
 every other object. The slowness with 
 which they were obliged to proceed 
 through the mountainous region of the 
 Apennines but ill-accorded with her 
 present temper of mind. On arriving 
 at Leghorn, and when the vessel in 
 which she had embarked was approach- 
 ing the shores of Sardinia, and the an- 
 cient towers of Oristagni appeared rising 
 majestically to the sight, her agitation 
 became so excessive, as to excite fear in 
 the minds of her attendants that delirium 
 would be the fatal consequence. 
 
 In the evening of the sWird day, the 
 c 6 vessel 
 
36 AXSELMO. 
 
 vessel anchored in the cape of Cagliari ; 
 but on the passengers preparing to land, 
 they had the misfortune to hear that an 
 epidemic fever raged with great violence 
 in the town and its environs: none, 
 therefore, would venture to go on shore, 
 excepting madame de Montauban, who, 
 on offering an ample recompence, and 
 pointing out to the sailors that her des- 
 tination was not at Cagliari, but the cas- 
 tle of Oristagni, they consented to the 
 proposal. 
 
 In less than an hour, Almeria, the ge- 
 neral's old faithful servant Claude, and a 
 female domestic, who had attended their 
 mistress to Savoy, were safely landed 
 near the eastern turret of Oristagni. On 
 approaching the castle,, they found the 
 drawbridge let down, and only one cen- 
 tinel on duty. Fears for bis master now' 
 pervaded the breast of poor Claude, at 
 not observing the usual number of sol- 
 diers which had been accustomed to 
 guard the prison. Madame de Mont- 
 auban 
 
airban perceiving the alarm of her ser- 
 vant, and supposing it to arise frorh this 
 circumstance, with a fixed look of unu- 
 sual sternness, exclaimed — " Why do 
 you tremble, man ? Of what are you 
 afraid? Shame upon you !" continued 
 Almeria, " must you be taught fortitude 
 from a woman ?" When, with a motion 
 of her hand, as if to prevent his follow- 
 ing, she slowly approached the centinel, 
 announced to him her name, and from 
 the written paper presented to her by 
 the count Anselmo, was permitted to 
 pass the drawbridge. 
 
 Claude, who had hitherto proceeded 
 by the side of his mistress in silence, now 
 ventured to entreat he, might be suffer- 
 ed to enter the castle first, thinking, from 
 iis deserted appearance, that his master 
 liad really been conveyed to some ether 
 abode on account of the fever. Almeria 
 uttered no reply; and Claude, therefore, 
 hastened onwards, and rang the bell. 
 
 The portal was opened by a man ap- 
 parently 
 
38 anselmo\ 
 
 parently intoxicated, and the inquiry for 
 general de Montauban was answered by 
 — " Walk in, and you may see him/' 
 
 Torrents of the finest eloquence could 
 siot produce more effect than this sim- 
 ple sentence did on the long-harassed 
 mind of Almeria; to her it seemed as a 
 transition from earth to heaven : but 
 when, as they were proceeding with 
 their conductor through the long aisles 
 and vaulted passages which led to the 
 prison-chamber of Montauban, and saw 
 nor heard even the sound of any human 
 being besides themselves, horror suc- 
 ceeded to chase away that momentary 
 idea of happiness. They had now arrived 
 at the entrance of those apartments in 
 which, for several years, had been vo- 
 luntarily confined the lovely Almerk, 
 from the pleasure she took in perform- 
 ing those duties which so highlv exalts 
 the character of a woman. 
 
 The man unchained the door and 
 withdrew. Madame immediately rushed 
 
 into 
 
ANSElBfOr 39 
 
 into the chamber, but on not seeing 
 Monfauban, exclaimed, ' whilst looking 
 wildly round, " What have you done 
 with him? where is my Leontine?" She 
 then ran through the various rooms, call- 
 ing out for him in accents of the most 
 despairing anguish. Claude observing hfs> 
 mistress in such a melancholy state, and 
 dreading that worse consequences would 
 ensue, left her to the care of Lauretta, 
 whilst he went in search of assistance, 
 and to learn what had been the fate of 
 his master. 
 
 But too soon were all his fears real- 
 ized. In an adjoining apartment he 
 heard the sound of several voices, and 
 shortly afterwards came out the man who 
 had admitted them into the castle, fol- 
 lowed by another of superior appear- 
 ance, to whom Claude addressed, by an 
 inquiry for general de Montauban. The 
 stranger, with much apparent concern, 
 then informed him, that the disorder 
 which had been so fatal to many of his 
 
 comrades 
 
4CT AN S ELMO- 
 
 comrades had proved likewise so to their 
 late prisoner, who had fallen a victim to 
 it only five days before their arrival. 
 
 The distress of poor Claude at this me- 
 lancholy intelligence may be more easily 
 imagined than described. Formerly, he 
 had braved misfortune's sharpest quiver; 
 but now he was old and infirm, and 
 therefore less able to withstand the 
 shocks of adversity. The stranger (who 
 announced his name to be that of Au- 
 bine, and of having been lately invested 
 with the command of the castle,) perceiv- 
 ing the embarrassment of Claude, offer- 
 ed his services, and likewise advised him 
 not to acquaint his mistress, at present, 
 of the unhappy event ; but to state, that 
 the general having received prior orders 
 to set off immediately to Savoy, he had 
 taken his departure a short time since 
 for the capital. Claude being perfectly 
 ignorant in what manner to proceed for 
 the best, readily took the advice of sig- 
 nior Aubine, as that persuasion too, he 
 
 thought* 
 
• AXSELMO. 41 
 
 thought, would most probably induce 
 madame de Montauban to return to her 
 friends, who could better impart the 
 sad event, and aflord consolation for the 
 loss she had suffered. 
 
 Such an arrangement became more 
 practicable, when, on returning to the 
 apartment, he found her quite com- 
 posed, seated near the window, and em- 
 ployed in writing on a small piece of 
 paper with a pencil. She looked at 
 Claude on his approaching her, sighed 
 deeply, and said — " I am "going to send 
 tliis letter to your master. I should have 
 wished to have seen- him, but I suppose 
 Leon tine will not permit it;" and con- 
 tinued, whilst folding up the paper, 
 " to-rnorrow, therefore, I shall go home 
 again to my little boy, for I am sure he 
 will be glad to see me." This turn of 
 mind was favourable to the intention of 
 Claude's prevailing on his mistress to 
 leave the prison ; who, from so plausible 
 
 a story> 
 
42 
 
 ANSELMO* 
 
 a story, did readily accede to his propo- 
 sition. 
 
 With much facility, Aubine then pro- 
 cured a vessel to convey the unfortunate 
 Almeria and her attendants from this 
 scene of misery. On the ensuing morn- 
 ing, therefore, after Claude had visited 
 the adjoining chapel, where the remains 
 of his ili-fated master were deposited^ 
 and over his grave had breathed a prayer 
 for his future and endless felicity, ma«- 
 dame de Montauban, Claude, and Lau- 
 retta, embarked once again for their 
 native country. 
 
 Before the narra;ive is resumed, we 
 must beg leave to pause, and here to 
 draw the reader's attention to the inci- 
 dent just recorded, which has pourtrayed 
 the mutability of all earthly enjoyments; 
 and by which is deeply inculcated the 
 propriety, nay absolute necessity, of its 
 being impressed on the mind to endea- 
 vour to meet the various events of life's 
 
 occurrences* 
 
ANSELMO. 43 
 
 occurrences, whether of joy or of sor- 
 row, with due composure, and with per- 
 fect resignation to the will and pleasure 
 .of Omnipotence ; the extremes of 
 either being equally detrimental to the 
 health, as well as the content, of every 
 individual — content is said, for real 
 happiness ought not, must not be ex- 
 pected here on earth. This, a term or 
 word, most pleasing to the ear, and flat- 
 tering to the imagination, why should 
 it be indulged, since it is but the phan- 
 tom of the moment, and in existence 
 has no reality ? If any name, under mis- 
 fort une — if any subject calls forth our 
 pity more tl ;n another, it is that in 
 which are observed the calamitous, the 
 dire effects of a secret and powerful ene- 
 my ; where, by the contrivance of one 
 solitary person, a whole family, flourish- 
 ing in the sunshine of popular favour; 
 beloved, esteemed, respected, and ador- 
 ed, by all around; who, for their patri- 
 otism., well-meriting their country's gra- 
 nt tide, 
 
4* ANSELMO. 
 
 titude, shall, from unseen means, rite 
 dark designs, and hidden machinations, 
 of one being in human form, but in 
 heart a demon, be levelled with the 
 dust ; cut down like the. lofty beautiful 
 tree (by the hand of the hewer), whose 
 inviting and wide-spreading branches 
 had oft served for grateful shelter to 
 many a way-worn traveller, faint and 
 weary with the mid-day sun. So fallen, 
 then, was the once-respected, honourable 
 house of Montauban, whose hospitable 
 relief the distressed, of whatever deno- 
 -mi nation, received, and whose real good- 
 ness ranked it amongst the highest of the 
 Italian realm. 
 
 In following the history of the valu- 
 able relic of that name, Providence des- 
 tined that Almeria should once again be 
 landed in safety on her native shores. 
 For many months, however, an almost 
 total insensibility succeeded the infor- 
 mation of the death of her husband. She 
 retired to a small villa near Savona, be- 
 longing 
 
A^SELMO. 45 
 
 longing to her brother, St. OrVille, whb 
 
 at that period held a lucrative situation 
 under the Genoese government ; and her 
 son, having attained his sixteenth year, 
 was soon afterwards sent by his uncle to 
 Florence, for the purpose of completing 
 his education. 
 
 The tranquillity of the country, aided 
 by the comforts of religion, at length 
 restored, in some degree, the afflicted 
 mind of Almeria ; who, in the second 
 year of her residence in Italy, was en- 
 abled to accompany her brother to Flo- 
 rence, for the pleasure of seeing Albert, 
 whose amiable disposition, and intelli- 
 gence of look and manner, was all the 
 fondest mother could have wished for, 
 as a presage and early promise of his 
 arriving at future wished- for excellence. 
 At this period, count Anselmo, being 
 on a visit in that city to a Florentine 
 nobleman, and having learnt by accident 
 that madame de Monfauban was likewise 
 there, he immediately hastened to the 
 
 hotel 
 
#6 ANSELMO. 
 
 hotel where they resided, to pay his 
 respects to them. Anselino had ever 
 since Almeria's interview with him at 
 Turin been particular in shewing her 
 every attention. He had written several 
 letters of condolence to her; but o'n ac- 
 count of the profound melancholy into 
 which she had fallen, they were always 
 answered in the most respectful terms by 
 St. Orville. 
 
 If the assertion of a celebrated English 
 poet be true, that we shall, at one time 
 or other, all [eel the passion of love, 
 and ihat 
 
 " All once the pleasing pa : n must prove — 
 The fond emotions of dists-acting love;' 7 
 
 the reader will not be surprised that 
 Anselmo, notwithstanding his vaunted, 
 determination of for ever contemning 
 that power, should now feel it for the 
 beautiful Almeria, whose personal charms 
 were indeed her least perfection. The 
 count had arrived at the summit of his 
 
 wishes, 
 
ANSELMO. 17 
 
 wishes, the height of glory and renown ; 
 Happiness was far from being an inmate 
 in his breast; he pursued her, but still 
 she avoided him. The thoughts of An- 
 selmo then turned to woman, supposing 
 her the presiding deity of that enviable 
 sanctuary — the temple of felicity ; che- 
 rishing that idea in his mind, it became 
 at length certain conviction, that with- 
 out woman, and that woman an Aimeria, 
 he should be for ever miserable. To 
 enumerate the various devices of Ansel- 
 mo, by which he hoped to obtain the 
 heart of her who had with magic power 
 so long held his in adamantine chains, 
 would be endless. None, however, tend- 
 ed so much to the completion of his 
 wishes as the gratitude Aimeria felt for 
 his former kindness; shewn, too, at a 
 period when the rest of the world (from 
 ihe misfortunes of her husband) had for- 
 saken her. The friendship of Anselmo, 
 therefore, at such a time, appeared in- 
 valuable. For so inconsistent is the 
 
 mind 
 
48 A"KSELMO. 
 
 mind of man, that too often they pay 
 adoration, and bestow their kindness, to 
 those alone who are already favoured by 
 fortune, although it does not prove of 
 the least benefit to themselves ; indeed 
 the reverse is sometimes felt to be the 
 consequence. 
 
 The visit of count Amelmo to ma- 
 dame de Montauban, at Florence, 
 raised him yet more in her estimation ; 
 his conversation was at times pathetic, 
 and even solemn, whilst, in a most re- 
 spectful manner, he praised her exem- 
 plary character, and the warm interest 
 be should always take (observing how 
 much her happiness depended on it,) in 
 the welfare of her son. Suffice to say, 
 that by such promises, constant assi- 
 duity, and trifling acts of friendship, 
 Anselmo effected more in a few months 
 than some men would have accom- 
 plished in years — he obtained the hand of 
 the beautiful Almeria. St. Orville had 
 tried to dissuade the count from pressing 
 
 his 
 
ANSELMO. 49 
 
 his suit until the mind of his sister should 
 be more at ease ; but in vain : for she 
 having referred him to her brother, as 
 being determined not to acquiesce with- 
 out his consent, Anselmo's irresistible 
 .powers of eloquence overruled all his 
 objections. He stated likewise to St. 
 Orville, that it was his intention of retir- 
 ing with her to the castle of Valleroy ; to 
 mix no longer in the affairs of govern- 
 ment, as his health, as well as Almeria's, 
 required repose, and the comforts of 
 a domestic life. 
 
 Finding that the completion of the 
 count's wishes rested only with him, -he 
 gave his consent to their union, and 
 shortly after they were married, in a 
 private manner, (according to the re- 
 quest of Almeria,) at Florence. The 
 count and countess then took an affec- 
 tionate leave of St. Orville, left Albert 
 for the finishing of his education, and 
 then set off with their attendants for 
 Valleroy. Lauretta accompanied them ; 
 vol. 1, d but 
 
50 ANSELMO. 
 
 but poor Claude, who by no means ap- 
 proved of the second marriage of his mis- 
 tress, had expressed a desire to be taken 
 into the service of her brother; which be- 
 ing agreed to, on the same day that the 
 count and countess commenced their 
 journey to the Apennines, he and his 
 master took their departure for Genoa* 
 
 CHAP. 
 
ANSELMO, 51 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 V. quella a i fiori, a i pomi, e a la verzura* 
 ador divcrsi depredando giva, 
 tutti facera una mistura 
 ( lie di SCttvita it V alma notriva. Ariosto. 
 
 The delightful season of an Italian spring 
 was now beginning to throw its lustre, 
 nnd to reanimate all Nature's works. 
 The country displayed one continual 
 scene of rich cultivation ; woods, moun- 
 tains, lakes, and silver streams, inter- 
 mingling through - the verdant plains, 
 shaded by trees of elm, almond, and mul* 
 berry, and intersected with vineyards, 
 were at once presented to the eye, to 
 charm and diversify the landscape. As 
 d $ the 
 
 UBRftfflf 
 
 iuuve m oriuuwt 
 
£» ANSELM0. 
 
 the count and countess proceeded nearer 
 to their destination, the melancholy of 
 Almeria appeared to increase ; in her 
 mind, confused and agonizing thoughts 
 were constantly recurring. The late 
 events that had taken place, during her 
 short residence in Florence, and which 
 had so indelibly fixed her future destiny, 
 seemed as a dream out of which she was 
 fearful of being awaked. When the 
 carriage began to ascend the lofty 
 mountains of the Apennines, and the 
 country, hitherto glowing with luxuriant 
 beauty, now changed to a barren uncul- 
 tivated waste, all dreary and forlorn, 
 Almeria, no longer able to command 
 her feelings, burst into a flood of tears. 
 The count, whose discontented brow 
 shewed too well the displeasure he felt 
 at her behaviour, desired the postillions 
 to stop, and leaving Lauretta with the 
 countess, alighted, and proceeded to 
 walk onwards to the castle. 
 
 The poor girl endeavoured to console 
 
 the 
 
the agitated spirits of her mistress, by 
 saying she was sure the count Anselmo 
 loved her, and therefore, although the 
 situation did not seem the most pleasant' 
 in the world, " yet, my lady," she conti- 
 nued, " you know where love dwells, it 
 always turns a prison into a palace." 
 
 This artless speech of Lauretta's had" 
 not the effect, however, of calming the 
 troubled mind of Almeria, who con- 
 tinued to weep until the carriage had 
 arrived at Valleroy. Anselmo then came 
 to conduct her into the chateau, oberv- 
 ing, as she alighted, and taking her hand, 
 that he hoped discontented and gloomy 
 thoughts would never again obtrude, to 
 chase away the happiness she might now 
 enjoy. With a faint smile, Almeria an- 
 swered — " I hope not, my lord." 
 
 The count then proceeded to lead her 
 
 through the spacious hall, into a saloon, 
 
 which, for grandeur and magnificence, 
 
 excelled every state of an eastern prince, 
 
 d 3 or 
 
AN8ELM0. 
 
 or the most wonderful productions the 
 beholder could form in his imagination. 
 The ceiling was painted to represent the 
 deities of the heathen world, encircled 
 with garlands of flowers, and from which 
 suspended elegant girandoles, doubly 
 reflected by the pannels of Venetian 
 looking-glass that surrounded the apart- 
 ment ,* the chairs and sofas were of bur- 
 nished gold, with vases of the same for 
 flowers and odoriferous perfumes; the 
 carpet of tapestry, and of the most ex- 
 quisite texture ,* two cabinets of ivory, 
 iplaid with precious stones, were placed 
 in niches, and which held refreshments 
 of the choicest wines and fruits ; rich 
 curtains, composed of silk and gold tis- 
 sue, tastefully decorated the windows, 
 from which was beheld a garden bloom- 
 ing with all the productions of Flora ; 
 and beyond that the view was terminated 
 by stupendous mountains, whose tops, 
 covered with snow, formed a strik- 
 ing 
 
ANSELMO, 55 
 
 lug contrast to the luxuries that were so 
 profusely displayed in the castle of Val- 
 leroy. 
 
 They partook of an elegant collation 
 which was prepared for them ; and after 
 it was finished, the count, as was his usual 
 custom, retired for some hours to his- 
 library, leaving Almeria to the care of 
 her servant. Lauretta, although so new 
 an inmate of the chateau, had learnt an 
 infinite quantity of news to impart to 
 her mistress, but which, on perceiving 
 the countess inclined to sleep, she was 
 obliged to delay the information. With 
 great care, then, Lauretta threw a veil 
 over Almeria, to prevent the light from 
 disturbing her repose ; and anxious to 
 hear more of the history of the castle, 
 she softly glided out of the apartment. 
 
 The sun, now sinking far into the wes- 
 tern ocean, tinged, with its setting rays, 
 the ancient towers of Valleroy ; and the 
 evening zephyr, gently sighing in„ the 
 adjacent grove, wafted a cool and refresh- 
 d 4 ing 
 
66 ANSELMO. 
 
 ing breeze, to revive the languor felfc 
 from the noonday heat; the lovely star 
 of eve, glimmering in the blue ethereal, 
 began to lead the silent host of heaven 
 along; and soon the silver queen of 
 night rose majestically in the vaulted 
 sphere, and darted its milder radiance on 
 the still-sleeping Almeria. Lights were 
 now brought into the saloon, and the 
 count shortly after entered the apart- 
 ment. Yet Almeria slept. A dream 
 (the strange incomprehensible atten- 
 dants of the human mind,) had conveyed 
 her far distant from her princely resi- 
 dence, even into the prison of Oristagni, 
 and in which Montauban appeared to 
 view, pale, wan, and torn with agony, 
 as on that fatal hour she parted from 
 him. Once again did she receive his 
 Jast embrace, and once again did he 
 repeat the words he had uttered with 
 such fervency of — " Oh ! Almeria, if 
 success attends not your suit, return, 
 oh ! return to me ; hasten to cheer true 
 
 afflicted 
 
ANSELMO. 57 
 
 afflicted spirits of your Leontine, who 
 only lives for you — my boy too ! my 
 soul's comfort, dearest Albert — oh, im- 
 part to him, with this kiss, his father's 
 blessing \" Then did she reply aloud — 
 " Montauban ! my heart breaks to leave 
 you !" — when a sudden ejaculation from 
 the count, of no very pleasing import, 
 chased away the delusive phantom, and 
 Almeria awoke to the sad reality. She 
 started from her couch, and looking 
 stedfastly at Ansel mo, (which seemed 
 to imply at first that recollection had 
 not yet come to her aid, but that she 
 conceived him to be Montauban,) and 
 then bv her exclamation of " Where 
 is he ?" that she had lost him, An- 
 selmo angrily demanded who she meant?' 
 This second question recalled her be- 
 wildered senses. Almeria sighed hea- 
 vily, and taking her handkerchief to 
 conceal the tears which had involuntarily 
 flowed, replied, " Pardon me, my lord ; 
 fatigued and listless, from the excessive 
 d 5 heat 
 
58 ANSELMO. 
 
 heat of the day, I fell asleep,, and have 
 had an unpleasant dream ; I could not, 
 therefore, instantly recover the fright it 
 had occasioned me." The countess then, 
 with much ingenuousness, related to 
 him the visionary scene, which had so 
 greatly affected her. Anselmo was si- 
 lent; turning over the leaves of a book 
 which lay on the table, he began to per- 
 use the following lines — 
 
 " Why all this toil, for triumphs of an hour? 
 What though we wade in wealth, or soar in fame ? 
 Earth's highest station ends in * here he lies,' 
 And ' dust to dust' concludes the noblest song." 
 
 Reading, however, had lost its wonted 
 charms to Anselmo : he laid down the 
 volume, and continued for some time 
 apparently in deep thought ; when the 
 countess, supposing (although uncon- 
 sciously) that she had offended, took up 
 her lute, and began playing a Venetian 
 air, in so enchanting a style, that it re- 
 called the count from his reverie, and 
 
 the 
 
ANSELMO. 59 
 
 the unusual gloom which had spread 
 over his countenance. 
 
 Two years then passed away, without 
 any material occurrence at the castle 
 deserving attention. The calm and ob- 
 scure way of life led by Almeria, re- 
 stored, in some degree, her mental suf- 
 ferings : at the end of the third summer 
 of her residence in the province of Tus- 
 cany, she obtained permission of the 
 count to invite Albert and her brother 
 to spend a few weeks with them at Val- 
 leroy. 
 
 During their stay, which by the request 
 of Anselmo was prolonged from the pe- 
 riod they intended for their departure, the 
 health of the countess daily improved; her 
 heart dilated with pleasure in the society 
 of Albert and St, Orville, whose mild 
 and benevolent disposition softened the 
 asperity which at times was observable 
 in the count's behaviour to Almeria, oc- 
 casioned by her too ardent attachment 
 d6 (as 
 
60 ANSELttO* 
 
 (as he called it) for her son, Ansd- 
 mo's arguments on that subject were, 
 that such partial fondness of a mother 
 must tend to make a boy effeminate, ri- 
 diculous, and unfit for the service of his 
 country, in which he thought Albert 
 ought to be now actively engaged. The 
 count would then contend with his 
 wife, that the study of the schools and 
 their disquisitions only rendered men 
 sceptics, argumentative, and assuming: 
 vain braggarts of the quantity of learned 
 nonsense with which their heads were 
 supplied with, they passed their time in 
 composing amatory odes and sonnets to* 
 their mistresses; describing passions, ne- 
 ver existing, perhaps, but in their own 
 wild imaginations, and obtained from 
 books; thereby picturing human life 
 exactly contrary to what it really is — 
 11 Instead, I say, of such trivial: girl- 
 ish employments," continued Anselmo, 
 " would they perfect themselves in. more 
 
 noble 
 
ANSELMO. Gl 
 
 noble attainments, they might become 
 useful members to society, and acquire 
 lasting honour and renown." 
 
 Hopes of renown, however, in the 
 general acceptation of the phrase, for 
 Albert, had ever been far from the 
 wishes of his mother ; she had too fatally 
 experienced the fallaciousness of such* 
 hopes, in the misfortunes which had at- 
 tended his brave father — " Montauban," 
 said she, " had nobly fought, risked all, 
 for the public good, his life, his for- 
 tune, and every thing that was most 
 dear to him on earth. He acquired re- 
 nown; yes/' continued Almeria, her 
 spirit rising as she spoke, " Fame rose 
 him to her highest pinnacle; when, in 
 an unlooked-for hour, the moment of 
 enjoyment from his hard-earned labours, 
 the canker-worm, of envy, jealous of his 
 deserved happiness* despoiled him of his 
 good name, his liberty,, and every worldly 
 comfort; nor yet, perhaps, would have 
 been glutted with its vengeance, had not 
 
 Death, 
 
62 ANSELMO. 
 
 Death, the iron hand of Death, tore him 
 from her fangs ; and his noble spirit, once 
 again free, flew for ever to the realms 
 of bliss. Oh, my lord," continued the 
 agitated mother, " do not then persuade 
 my son to follow his poor father's for- 
 tunes; sooner would I behold him tend- 
 ing in the fields his little flock, and his 
 only residence a neat herd's cottage, than 
 see him master of a palace, where, too 
 oft, the fiends of Care and Discord 
 reign." 
 
 Such being the animated sentiments of 
 the countess, Anselmo forbore, for the 
 present, urging his proposition concern- 
 ing the young Montauban, who was 
 likewise a warm advocate for a military 
 life. 
 
 These unpleasant contests St. Orville 
 could not always conciliate with the same 
 effect, particularly when he found that 
 his nephew was so extremely desirous 
 of entering the army, in which an im- 
 portant circumstance now happened to 
 
 forward 
 
ANSELMO. 63 
 
 forward that intention. New? arrived 
 at Valleroy of a signal defeat having 
 been sustained by the Vaudois and Pied- 
 montese troops. The French having 
 possessed themselves of Lucern, and great 
 part* of the surrounding country, their 
 brave commander, \ no longer able to 
 contend with the enemy, had been 
 obliged to fly with his small remaining 
 force to Carignan ; and that without an 
 immediate supply of fresh troops, they 
 must be annihilated, and prince Eugene, 
 the noblest pride of the Italian nation, 
 fall a lamented victim, or enchained to 
 the car of the conqueror, be led captive 
 to the gates of Paris, to enhance the 
 dear-bought victory. 
 
 Albert, at hearing this account, ex- 
 claimed — " I feel for them as a man, and 
 burn with ardour to revenge my coun- 
 try's loss;" and continued, impetuously, 
 "oh, my mother, you cannot, you will not, 
 now oppose my wishes for to meet this 
 implacable enemy ! In such a distressing 
 
 juncture, 
 
G4f ANSELM0* 
 
 j a net tire, every true patriot's bosom 
 must glow with eagerness to unite in the 
 common cause, when our laws, our 
 liberty, and the lives of our fellow-citi- 
 zens, are endangered by a hostile inva- 
 der." Almeria, observing the maddened 
 fervour that agitated her son, and which, 
 being heightened by the count's all-pow- 
 erful eloquence, which, like an impetu- 
 ous stream, bore down every thing that 
 impeded its progress, appeared no long- 
 er within the bounds of reason, she re- 
 mained silent, inwardly lamenting the 
 cause that had produced it. Montauban, 
 perceiving his mother affected, said re- 
 spectfully — " Believe me, dear madam, 
 no earthly consideration whatever should 
 have induced me to risk your displeasure 
 but in this one instance — the imminent- 
 danger of my brave countrymen. " — 
 " Yes," replied the count, te they cer- 
 tainly claim your consideration : friend- 
 ship shewn from man to man, in the 
 hour of peril, is a godlilie act, and de- 
 serves 
 
ANSELMO. G5 
 
 serves the world's applause." — •■* And yet, 
 my lord," repeated Albert, " I hope I 
 shall never forget, that jusrrce for them 
 must, at the same time, be tempered with 
 mercy to their enemies/' The count 
 then embraced Monfauban, and pro- 
 mised that a commission should be ob- 
 tained for him immediately, expressing, 
 at the same time, his reluctance, that, 
 from his indifferent state of health, he 
 was prevented following the young 
 soldier to the field of battle, from which 
 Anselmo had often returned crowned 
 with laurels. 
 
 Before a month had expired, the 
 count procured from his sovereign aa 
 appointment for Montauban, who, in- 
 stead of returning to Florence with his 
 uncle, now departed for the seat of war 
 in Piedmont. He took an affectionate 
 leave of his mother, and conjured her to 
 be comforted during his absence. But 
 the agonized feelings of Almeria at part- 
 ing from her son were almost beyond 
 
 the 
 
6# ANSELMO. 
 
 the power of language to describe. Ten- 
 derly embracing him, with much diffi* 
 culty she said—*' Farewell, my Albert ; 
 may Heaven protect you ¥' and then re- 
 tired to solitude and tears* 
 
 CHAP. 
 
ANSELMO. %t 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 * True, bfre is feir j oh, how divinel y fUif ! 
 But still tho lovely rnrdd improves her charms 
 With inward greatftesfe, tmnffected \tiwMtfj 
 And fftiiefity e£ tttattildfth" 
 
 A lonc interval now elapsed since the 
 departure of Montauban, and excepting 
 one hastily-written letter, dated Calgar- 
 ga, acquainting his mother of having 
 joined his regiment in good health, no 
 account had been since received from 
 him ; i,nd therefore the fears she en- 
 tertained for his safety daily grew more 
 and more insupportable. The count at 
 first ridiculed her anxiety, but finding 
 that had no effect, his temper, easily 
 
 irritated 
 
$8 ANSELJiO. 
 
 irritated and ungovernable, began warm- 
 ly to remonstrate such childish beha* 
 viour, as he termed it, so unbecoming 
 a woman of her sense and apparent reso- 
 lution. Then would Anselmo reproach 
 her with indifference and want of affec- 
 tion towards himself; and this idea that 
 he cherished, so detrimental to his peace 
 of mind, became truly distressful to Al- 
 meria, who looked forward to the future 
 with the utmost fear. 
 
 The eighteenth month; of Albert's 
 absence had commenced, and yet no 
 tidings of him. St. Orvilld wrote some- 
 times to his sister, but as he* was now 
 occupied in forming an alliance with 
 the eldest daughter of a Venetian sena- 
 tor, his letters were in general filled 
 with praises of the object of his admi- 
 ration, and therefore very slightly men- 
 tioned his nephew, except in expressing 
 his wishes for Montauban's welfare. 
 
 One evening, towards the end of July, 
 the inhabitants of the castle were unu- 
 sually 
 
ANSELMO. 69 
 
 sually disturbed by loud and repeated 
 knocking at its gates, and on demanding 
 the cause of it, a monk belonging to the 
 abbey of St. Julian requested an inter- 
 view with count Anselmo. Almeria, 
 whose thoughts were incessantly occupied 
 about her son, desired that he might be 
 instantly admitted ; and turning to her 
 husband, said — " Oh, my lord, this man, 
 no doubt, is the bearer of a letter to me 
 from Albert/' — "No, madam, ''replied the 
 count, with sternness, " Lodovico is the 
 bearer of a -letter to me." He then com- 
 manded the servant to take lights into 
 the north chamber, and immediately left 
 the saloon. 
 
 During his absence, Lauretta, then in 
 attendance on her mistress, informed her, 
 that the stranger was confessor to the 
 adjacent convent of Santa Maria, in 
 which was confined a most beautiful 
 young lady, and some people did say 
 that the count was in love with her. 
 ° Impossible !" replied Almeria; " you 
 do not tell me true." — " No, my lady, 
 
 not 
 
70 ANSELMO. 
 
 not for certain/' answered Lauretta ; 
 ? but you know what great folks do, little 
 cues will talk of; and therefore it has 
 been thought strange that the count 
 should support a fine young woman, for 
 so many years, and not say neither who 
 she is, who she belongs to, nor where 
 she is come from : indeed," continued 
 the facetious girl, " the old housekeep- 
 er says, that when you suppose, my 
 lord is gone to the library to study 
 books, he is gone to study something 
 of much more consequence, as he ik 
 always seen to walk towards an old build- 
 ing; and vLaft Silence!" repeated 
 
 the countess, with anger ; " I'll hear no 
 more." For although this information 
 of Lauretta's had somewhat alarmed 
 for the moment, yet she wisely reflected 
 how very little dependence ought to be 
 placed on the intelligence obtained from 
 domestics, and therefore determined not 
 to credit an account so injurious to her 
 future happiness. 
 
 Ansel mo entered the saloon shortly 
 
 after, 
 
ANSELMO, 71 
 
 after, and ordered Lauretta immediately 
 to depart With Lodovico for the con- 
 vent of Santa Maria, " Me, my lord ?" 
 said the terrified girl. — " Yes, yon ; obey 
 my orders this instant !" repeated the 
 count Trembling with fright, and whilst 
 looking towards a window opposite the 
 saloon, she exclaimed—" Oh dear, oh 
 dear, the night is so very dark ! no 
 moon, nor one single star, I do declare! 
 I am sure I shall tumble into some dread- 
 ful cavern ; may I take a light, my lord ?" 
 — " Begone," answered Ansel mo, with 
 fury. Poor Lauretta then immediately 
 left the room, and began telling her 
 beads with the utmost devotion, not 
 having the least doubt but that her mas- 
 ter had overheard what she had been say- 
 ing, and therefore that she was going to 
 be locked up in the convent, as well as 
 the lady. 
 
 In passing the hall, she saw Lodovico 
 waiting for her under the portcullis, 
 " Holy virgin V* exclaimed she, " there 
 
 is 
 
73 ANSELMO. 
 
 is the devil, I am sure ; and he is going 
 to lay hold of me, that's for certain. 
 Oh that ever I should have come into 
 this infernal, terrible, frightful-looking 
 castle !." The monk, perceiving how un- 
 willingly she was advancing, said hastily 
 — " Are you ready ?" Immediately al- 
 tering her tone, she answered — " I am 
 coming directly, only permit me to .pro- 
 cure a lanthorn first." Lodovico replied 
 he had one, when turning the spring of 
 it, the light appeared, and discovered 
 to the agitated fancy of Lauretta. one of 
 the most ferocious countenances in na*- 
 ture. Having now, however, approach- 
 ed the portal, she tremblingly followed 
 him over the drawbridge, and he then 
 taking fast hold of her arm, with the 
 .greatest speed directed his course to the 
 monastery. 
 
 Anselmo observed the surprise of the 
 countess at this occurrence ; he there- 
 fore, on Lauretta's leaving the saloon, 
 began to unfold the reasons which had 
 
 actuated 
 
AN^ELMO. '*''' 
 
 actuated him to send her. * It is need- 
 less/' he said, " to enter into a minute 
 recital of former events, which would be 
 tedious, and of course uninteresting; 
 the principal, however," continued the 
 count, u I shall now acquaint you." 
 
 Almeria listened with profound atten- 
 tion, and Anselmo thus began : — <c About 
 twenty years since, travelling from Arez- 
 zo into Piedmont, with a mission for 
 Shat government, my carriage was stop* 
 ped by four men on horseback; they 
 wore masks ; and two of them present- 
 ing pistols into the windows, er r orced 
 my silence, by saying, that ' if I of- 
 fered to make the least resistance, my 
 life should be the sacrifice.' As money 
 did not seem to be their immediate ob- 
 ject, I demanded to know their business? 
 They made no answer, but one of them 
 Tode off* a few paces from the road, and 
 dismounting, entered into a kind of 
 hut ; shortly afterwards, the man again 
 •appeared, holding in his hand a bundle ; 
 you i. s with 
 
74 AXSELMO. 
 
 with which he joined his companions, 
 and delivering it to the one that was 
 stationed at the other door of the car- 
 riage, which was then open, he placed 
 it on the seat, and exclaimed — * Now 
 you are again free !' At the same mo- 
 ment, they all darted into the thickest 
 part of the adjoining wood, and were 
 invisible in an instant. Surprise," con- 
 tinued the count, " fixed me in a stupor; 
 when casting my eyes on the parcel, I 
 saw it move. The postillions desired to 
 know whether they should proceed ? I 
 commanded not, until I had discovered 
 its contents ; when to my great astonish- 
 ment, I beheld a female infant. It was 
 asleep; and from its neck was suspended a 
 ribbon, which fastening a small piece of 
 paper, contained these words, written in 
 the French language — ' Eleanor, a child 
 entrusted to the bosom of fostering humani- 
 ty/ I took it into my arms, and made a vow 
 to Heaven that I would be its protector. 
 The angelic countenance of the infant I 
 
 fancied 
 
ANSELttO. . 7 J 
 
 fancied was animated by this exclamation, 
 for it beamed upon me a smile of seraphic 
 import; and then leaning its head on my 
 shoulder,, again sunk imo forget fulness. 
 
 " I ordered one of the postillions/.' 
 said the count, in continuing the his- 
 tory, " to explore the wretched habi- 
 tation from which the child had been 
 taken, thinking it might serve as a clue 
 to unravel so mysterious an incident* 
 The man, on his return, acquainted me 
 that the hut was quite deserted, and re- 
 tained the appearance of having been 
 only a stable,, as there were several man- 
 gers. No hopes, therefore, of ac- 
 quiring any intelligence from thence, I 
 conducted my little charge in safety to 
 the next post-town, where having, at a 
 very short notice, procured a nurse for 
 'it, we continued our journey to Pied- 
 mont. In a few months afterwards," 
 said Anselmo, " on my return into Italy, 
 I confided the child to the care of a re- 
 spectable family at Milan, with whom 
 k 2 she 
 
76 ANSELMO. 
 
 she has been an inmate until within 
 these six years, when, for the advantage 
 of a superior education, I gave orders 
 that my adopted daughter should be 
 removed to our convent of Santa Maria.*' 
 A look of incredulity from his wife 
 succeeded this information of Anselmo's; 
 indeed, the whole account appeared to 
 her improbable, and as such, not deserv- 
 ing of the least credit. The count had 
 observed the various expressions which 
 had taken place in her countenance, but 
 had not until now deigned to notice it. 
 With sternness he said, — " Do you 
 doubt, madam, the truth of my state- 
 ment ?" — When Almeria, with great ad- 
 dress, and peculiar softness, replied, " My 
 lord, I am not conscious of ever hav- 
 ing related a falsehood ; why, then, do 
 you think I should doubt yours ?" 
 This evasive answer somewhat calmed 
 the anger that was rising in the breast of 
 Anselmo, who thus continued — " It cer- 
 tainly was not my intention to introduce 
 
 Eleanor 
 
ANSELM0. 81 
 
 spoken, and grieved at the melancholy 
 injunction, sat dejectedly silent. Alme- 
 ria then represented to her husband the 
 very ill state of health of Eleanor, and 
 the natural regret that every young per- 
 son must feel at parting with associates 
 of their own. age, whose juvenile ideas 
 must be more consonant to them, than the 
 cooler reflection of maturer years — ''Yet, 
 my -lord," she continued, " I think I 
 can distinguish in the looks of your 
 adopted daughter, a mind irradiated by 
 wisdom, which will ever teach the neces- 
 sity of submission to your commands:" 
 when the countess particularly addressing 
 her, for an affirmation of what' she hal 
 said, Eleanor respectfully bowed an as- 
 sent to it. 
 
 Anselmo soon after left the saloon, 
 to confer with the monk, who was wait- 
 ing for him in the antichambcr ; and the 
 ladies then retired to their separate apart- 
 ments for the night. 
 
 * 5 CHAP. 
 
S2 ANSELMO, 
 
 CHAP. VL 
 
 Satin, parva res est voluptatum in vita 
 
 Atque in tale agenda 
 
 Prasquam quod molestum est, ita cuique comparatu;:. 
 
 Est in aetate hominura. 
 
 Ita Diis placitum, voluptatem ut raovor comes conse- 
 
 quatur 
 Quin incommodi plus malique illicd tadsit boni si obtigit 
 
 quid. Plautus Amph. 
 
 How short, how trifling, are the jovs of life, 
 If with the evils that it brings compar'd ! 
 This is the state of man, decreed by Heav'n — 
 That all his pleasure shall be mix'd with pain, 
 And lasting woe succeed each short delight. 
 
 Ano.ny. 
 
 The morning dawn now began to beam his 
 oriental light on the castle of Valleroy ; 
 
 and 
 
ANSELMO. 83 
 
 and the warbling choir, renovated from 
 their listless state by the genial warmth 
 of summer, melodiously filled the adja- 
 cent groves with heaven-taught har- 
 mony. The gentle current of the Arno, 
 meandering through these rich domains, 
 glistened beneath an unclouded sun ; and 
 the misty vapours of the night gradually 
 disappearing, gave to the surrounding 
 landscape renewed and luxuriant beau- 
 ties. The matin bell of the neighbour- 
 ing convent of Santa Maria, swelling 
 with deepened tone along the vale, 
 now awoke from uneasy slumbers the 
 lovely Eleanor. Accustomed to its 
 well-known sound, the pious foundling 
 instantly prepared to attend its sum- 
 mons, and some time elapsed before she 
 could divest herself from the idea of still 
 being an inhabitant of the monastery. 
 The splendid apartment which Eleanor 
 at present occupied, afforded to her no 
 charms in the least, to compensate for 
 the one she had left ; and therefore, 
 e 6 seating 
 
84 ANSELMO. 
 
 seating herself at the window which 
 commanded a distant view of Santa 
 Maria, and looking towards it with tear- 
 ful eyes, exclaimed — M Beloved abode ! 
 sacred to friendship's inspired name^ must 
 i never again be permitted to visit your 
 calm retreats, your holy sanctuary ?' 
 hapless Eleanor !" she continued, "what 
 sad destiny awaits thy future years?" 
 
 The countess, who at this sentence 
 entered the apartment, to inform her 
 that breakfast was in waiting, was grieved 
 to observe her very pallid and languid 
 countenance ; she therefore requested 
 Eleanor not to leave her room until her 
 health was more recovered, and that she 
 would send Lauretta to attend on her. 
 Solitude, at all times congenial to the 
 taste of our orphan, was more particu- 
 larly so at present, being really indis- 
 posed, and her mind, from some inwarcV 
 cause or other, heavily oppressed with 
 melancholy. Tenderly embracing the 
 countess, shejsaid, "With your permis- 
 sion, 
 
AN S ELMO. 77 
 
 Eleanor at the castle, had not Lodovico 
 informed me of her serious illness; I 
 have therefore sent orders to the con- 
 vent for her to be immediately brought 
 to Vaileroy. You, madam/' the count 
 then said, " will, I hope, be to Eleanor 
 (what she has never yet had the felicity of 
 knowing) an affectionate mother; believe 
 me, she will merit your tenderest care;" 
 and was continuing, when the bell at the 
 outer gate of the castle, and the sound 
 of the carnage rolling under the port- 
 cullis, announced to them the arrival of 
 the fair invalid. Anselmo hastened into 
 the hail, and almost immediately after, he 
 condacted the orphan into the presence 
 of Almeria. 
 
 The countess instantaneously rose to 
 embrace the young stranger; but the fa- 
 tigue, added to the sudden change from 
 the walls of a monastery into so splen- 
 did an apartment as the saloon of Vaile- 
 roy, entirely overcame her; she leant on 
 the bosom of Almeria and fainted. Elea- 
 e 3 nor 
 
s& ANSELJIO. 
 
 nor was then led to a sofa, and shortly 
 after, from a restorative administered by 
 the countess, again brought to life. The 
 innumerable tapers that blazed threw a 
 brilliant lustre on her interesting form, 
 which was of the truest symmetry ; her 
 fine dark eyes, emanated by the celestial 
 spark of virtue, now beamed with in- 
 telligence, and the tender sympathy of 
 an immaterial soul. The sylph-like fi- 
 gure of Eleanor, rivalling even the mo- 
 dels of Grecian art, was enveloped irt 
 a robe and veil of the finest texture, 
 which, shading in part her beauteous 
 face, somewhat confined the profusion 
 of auburn hair that fell in graceful ring- 
 lets over her bosom ; and from which; 
 suspended by rows of pearls, hung a 
 magnificent cross of diamonds, imparting 
 a dazzling brightness oh her delicate (I 
 may say) angelic countenance. 
 
 As reclining in the arms of the coun- 
 tess, Eleanor now said, in the softest ac- 
 cents — u Dear lady, accept my thanks;*' 
 
 and 
 
ANSELMO. 79 
 
 ana then turning to Ansclmo, who was 
 seated at the other end of the couch, ex- 
 claimed, " And as to you, my father, ( for 
 by that appellation she had often called 
 him), how can I ever sufficiently acknow- 
 ledge, much less return, the gratitude I 
 owe for your goodness!" — " No return 
 I w.'si for,'' interrupted the count, " ex- 
 cept obedience to my commands ; for 
 this night you have taken a last farewell 
 of the monastery." — " My lord," replied 
 Eleanor, with the utmost emotion, and 
 repeating his words, " a last farewell of 
 Santa Maria ? that revered abode, in 
 which so many happy years have glided 
 away hv love and friendship — never to 
 see it more V' — " Unthinking girl [" eja- 
 culated the count, with extreme displea- 
 sure, " do you murmur at my first de- 
 cree ? what can possibly have attached 
 you to a monastic life, comprised as it is of 
 eternal sameness ? you imagine, perhaps 
 to be shut out from the world, and pass- 
 ing days and nights in never-ceasing 
 E 4 vigils, 
 
80 ANSELMO. 
 
 vigils, in the gloomy cloisters of a con- 
 vent, that is the road to heaven ! For 
 *hame, Eleanor/* he continued; "self- 
 interest, I observe, is alone your motto : 
 but clo not deceive yourself with such 
 fallacious hopes; with religion must also 
 temptations be surmounted, benevolence 
 displayed, and actions tending to the ge- 
 neral good of mankind. All these, I 
 say, are required, ere you can attain the 
 summit of felicity. The gods laugh at 
 those who, having no power to be other- 
 wise, extol their fancied goodness,, and 
 claim for it a reward. No, no, Eleanor; 
 virtue must be tried, before it can be 
 accepted. If, then, (as the shining gold 
 which endures the fire's heat, and comes 
 out pure and undefiled,) its genuine worth 
 is proved, a glorious recompence is the 
 due, and an everlasting fame is its 
 portion. " 
 
 The countess now interposed in be- 
 half of the lovely orphan, who, trembling 
 at the warmth in which Anselmo had 
 
 spoken* 
 
ANSELMO. 89 
 
 service; and likewise to procure for 
 Antonio, who was reckoned very clever 
 at his learning, a situation as clerk to a 
 merchant in Paris ; and then commenced 
 all my poor brother's misfortunes, for — '* 
 The saloon-bell, however, now summon- 
 ing Lauretta to the countess Anselmo, it' 
 obliged her to defer the continuation of 
 the history until the evening, when she 
 would again be in attendance on Eleanor. 
 On descending into the hall, she met 
 the old housekeeper, who accosted her 
 with — " Come, come, girl, here will be 
 stirring work for you soon ; the count, 
 my master, has orders from the duke of 
 Savoy to set off immediately for Turin, 
 and all the men-servants are to go with 
 him, excepting Philippe, and that sense- 
 less block Francisco. " — " Holy Virgin !'* 
 exclaimed Lauretta, " what's the matter? 
 which way is the wind now, Theresa ?" — 
 11 How should I know ?" replied she ; (l I 
 only know that my master is in a great 
 bustle, and that we are all sent flying 
 
 about 3 
 
so 
 
 ANSELMO. 
 
 about, like chaff out of a barn door, to 
 get things ready for his journey." The 
 bell now rang violently a second time* 
 " There, girl, that's again for you ; come, 
 come, do you run down to the countess, 
 whilst I run up and deliver a message to 
 signora Eleanor/' 
 
 On Lauretta's entering the saloon, the 
 count demanded to know the reason of 
 her not attending the first summons? and 
 in making an excuse for it, said — " I 
 only stopped, my lord, to help up the 
 old housekeeper, who in her hurry had 
 tumbled down." She was then ordered 
 to go to the pavilion, and acquaint her 
 mistress of his wish to speak to her, 
 every thing being prepared for his de- 
 parture. 
 
 Almeria at that time having been ap- 
 prized of the order received by Anselmo, 
 was employed in writing a letter to hey 
 son; but on Lauretta's informing her of the 
 message of the count, she hastily folded 
 yp the paper, and returned to the saloon, 
 
 Anselmo* 
 
ANSELMO, 91 
 
 Anselmo, embracing her, said — " I must 
 now leave you, my love, for the business 
 that calls me to Turin admits not of the 
 least decay. "- — " Do you suppose your 
 stay will be long ?" replied Almeria. — 
 u Not more than a few weeks,perhaps." — 
 " And will you then be the bearer of this 
 letter to Albert, as you say he is now in 
 the fortress of Montmelian." — u Cer- 
 tainly," said the count; " but the pur- 
 port of it ?" — H A mother's fears for the 
 safety of her son, my lord, and reproach- 
 es for his disobedience; nothing more, 
 believe me." — " Oh, oh/' replied An- 
 selmo/laughingly, " if those are the con- 
 tents, I can easily imagine the reception 
 it will receive, Almeria." — rs As to 
 that, I am perfectly indifferent; if a 
 child is neglectful of the duty to a pa- 
 rent, it is their duty to inform them of it ; 
 for slightly indeed can they hope for 
 success through life, if wanting in re- 
 spect to those who claim it by the first 
 and most sacred tie on earth,"— " Well, 
 
 well/* 
 
9% ANSELMO. 
 
 well," said the count, " I will give it 
 him;" and then hastily bidding her 
 adieu, Anselmo, attended by a nume- 
 rous retinue, took their departure from 
 Valferoy. 
 
 At the intimation of the count's in- 
 tended journey by Theresa, Eleanor anx-* 
 iously requested to be led to the saloon, 
 that she might take leave of her kind be- 
 nefactor, who, as she affectionately 
 exclaimed, had acted to her the part of a 
 father. At the concluding word of this 
 sentence, the old housekeeper began 
 to entertain new and various conjectures 
 of Eleanor; and from several former oc- 
 currences, which had so mysteriously 
 taken place at the castle, she began to 
 believe that the-signora would turn out 
 to be no less than a daughter of count 
 Anselmo. 
 
 Theresa, now, therefore, was extreme- 
 ly obsequious to Eleanor, conducted her 
 with great care to the countess, who re- 
 ceived her with unfeigned pleasure, but 
 
 yet 
 
ANSELMO. 85 
 
 sion, I shall indeed prefer remaining in 
 my chamber for some days, if you will- 
 offer and apology for my absence to the 
 count, whose anger I should be extreme- 
 ly sorry to augment by any inattention 
 to his commands." The assurances of 
 Almeria, however, that Anselmo no lon- 
 ger bore any displeasure, and the pro- 
 mise she gave to pass some hours every 
 day with her young charge, till she was 
 enabled to quit her apartments, greatly 
 relieved the afflicted spirits of Eleanor ; 
 who, on being again left alone, began 
 to seek for some amusement, in perusing 
 a favourite poem. Reading was always a 
 source of never-failing pleasure; her 
 sensible and feeling heart gave additional 
 beauties to the works of an author; and 
 when perusing the celebrated Tasso, her 
 imagination would soar above the reach 
 of circumstances, and create delight, 
 even when all earthly happiness seemed 
 fled for ever from her. 
 
 Lauretta shortly after entered with 
 
 coffee. 
 
SO AN3ELMO* 
 
 coffee, and making a low curtsey to Elea- 
 nor, began saying, with much apparent 
 consequence, that she was appointed to 
 be her attendant — " And indeed-, my 
 lady," she continued, " you will find 1 
 me perfectly well qualified, for my mo- 
 ther was zfemrne cle chambre, and my fa- 
 ther was a valet de chambre, and my bro- 
 ther was not one, because he was mad, 
 and therefore he, poor boy, turned poet, 
 and was soon provided for; Antonio- 
 wrote some verses against the great 
 lords' ladies in Paris, which they did 
 not like, and so they sent him to prison, 
 and there, I dare say, he will ever remain.. 
 Well, thanks be to Heaven, I have no 
 learning! 7 ' exclaimed the loquacious 
 girl. Eleanor could not forbear smiling, 
 when she congratulated herself on not 
 having acquired so dangerous an accom- 
 plishment; and sympathizing at the fate 
 of her brother, she asked if there was 
 not a hope of her family being able to 
 procure his release ? V Oh dear no, my 
 
 lady," 
 
ANSELMO. 87 
 
 lady/' said Lauretta; " if they did, they 
 would directly be sent to keep him com- 
 pany. Ah, srgnoraT* she continued, 
 " if I was to tell you all of poor Anto- 
 nio's story, your heart would be sad in- 
 deed. " On Eleanor's, however, assuring 
 Lauretta that she had excited in her 
 great curiosity to be acquainted with his 
 history, she thus began r— 
 
 " Well then, my lady, you must know, 
 that I, as well as my brother, was born in 
 Paris; he is now twenty-five, and I am 
 six years younger. At the time of my 
 birth, my father was in the service of 
 the German baron de Holstein, who 
 hearing that he had a wife and two chil- 
 dren to support, the baron engaged my 
 mother to attend on his sister, the lady 
 Constantia, a very good mistress too she 
 was, for permitting my mother to have 
 me with her; and likewise sent my bro- 
 ther to school at her own expence. I 
 have often heard my mother say it was 
 the happiest period of her life; but 
 
 alas! 
 
88 ANSELMO. 
 
 alas!" continued Lauretta, sighing, 
 ** I'm afraid all pleasures are of short 
 duration ; for in the third year of our 
 being in that family, the baron de Hoi- 
 stein died ; and the lady Constantia was 
 so melancholy after the death of her 
 brother, that she left Paris almost imme- 
 diately, and departed for Germany, where 
 we have since learnt of her retiring into 
 a convent, and of having taken the veil." 
 " Unfortunate . Constantia ! such an 
 event must have deeply affected her 1" 
 exclaimed Eleanor; "but had she no 
 husband, no other relations than the 
 baron ?" — " Not that we have ever 
 heard of; my father and mother conti- 
 nually inquiries about the health of our 
 benefactress," replied Lauretta, " from 
 her agent in Paris, with whom she has left 
 • a yearly pension for them ; and as it is 
 regularly paid, my parents have been 
 enabled, by the addition of a little farm 
 they purchased near Versailles, to sup- 
 port themselves without going again to 
 
 service ; 
 
AXSELMO. 93 
 
 yet expressed a fear that she had left her 
 chamber too soon, and that her health 
 might suffer for her politeness. On Al- 
 meria's acquainting her that Anselmo 
 had already departed from the castle, 
 Eleanor, particularly desirous of obtain- 
 ing her friendship, answered, that she 
 found her health much better, and there- 
 fore requested permission to be her 
 companion during his absence. — " Your 
 kind offer I embrace with delight/' said 
 the countess, " and would challenge 
 you for a walk in the evening, was I 
 not afraid that it might increase your 
 indisposition." — " Oh no/ she replied ; 
 " indeed it will not, but be of infinite 
 service." This proposition agreed on, 
 the countess observed shortly, with 
 satisfaction, that her young' friend's ma- 
 lady appeared to arise rather from de- 
 jection of mind than any real illness; 
 the roses, which had been chased away 
 from her cheeks, now began to return; 
 and blending with the transparent white- 
 ness 
 
94 ANSELMO, 
 
 ness of the skin, gave to her counte 
 
 nanc 
 Hebe. 
 
 nance all the grace and animation of a 
 
 " And when fair wisdom joins in the design, 
 The beauty of the whole result's divine." 
 
 The day glided away in happiness to 
 Eleanor, and would likewise have so 
 passed to the countess, had not anxiety 
 for Albert, and some latent uneasiness 
 respecting her husband, prevented it. 
 
 A declining sun now emitted his last 
 rays through a cloudless sky ; the dis- 
 tant landscape was softened by the dews 
 of eve; and a gentle gale, whispering 
 amongst the trees, breathed delicious 
 perfumes. From the loveliness of the 
 weather, and beauty of the prospect, 
 the walk of Eleanor and the countess 
 was extended far beyond their original 
 intention. On turning a point of rock, 
 they observed to the left a cavern, ex- 
 cavated cut of the mountain, and con- 
 posed of granite; the entrance to it 
 
 was 
 
ANSELMO. $5 
 
 was shaded by almond and olive trees; 
 the ground overspread with rosemary, 
 lavender, wild thvme, and various aro- 
 matic shrubs. The curiosity of the la- 
 dies excited them to explore this hollow 
 recess; when Francisco, who attended 
 them, began to expostulate against their 
 proceeding — " Honoured mistress/' said 
 he, addressing the countess, ff that cave 
 is haunted by evil spirits ; for I do assure, 
 you," continued he, trembling, " the 
 peasants declare, that on returning to 
 their homes at night, they have seen 
 several gigantic spectres walking about 
 with torches in their hands, and that 
 their heads appeared to touch the ceil- 
 ing ; they sometimes play an several 
 
 sorts of music, and '* 
 
 " No more of such a ridiculous sto- 
 ry, I beseech you, Francisco, but follow 
 us." — " Had I not then better remain at 
 the door, my lady ?" replied he, " that 
 in case you should be run away with by 
 those gentry, I may be ready to give 
 
 the 
 
&l3 AtfSELMO. 
 
 the alarm ?" — xc Pray let him do so," said 
 Eleanor, smiling; and then* turning to 
 the old man, exclaimed, fc Be steady at 
 your post, Francisco, and call out vocir 
 ferously, if you think there is any dan- 
 ger." — ie That I will indeed, young lady," 
 replied he. 
 
 On their entering, the curiosity of the 
 countess and Eleanor Was amply gratified, 
 and their pleasure converted into amaze- 
 ment when they, beheld the majestic co- 
 lumns and noble pillars which supported 
 the fabric ; they were partly mutilated, 
 but yet, from their radiant whiteness, 
 appeared extremely beautiful; and the 
 sparry icicles which were suspended 
 from the vaulted roof, resembled wax 
 tapers, and did indeed throw on the 
 whole structure an appearance of en^ 
 chantment. 
 
 Whilst the countess Anselmo was ad- 
 miring the magnificence of the place, 
 and contemplating on the wonders of 
 rude uncultivated nature, Eleanor's at- 
 tention 
 
ANSELMC 97 
 
 tention was diverted to a distant part of 
 the cave, where stood the figure of a 
 saint carved from wood, in one hand 
 holding a crucifix, and in the other a 
 book; on a column, near the statue, was 
 placed an hour-glass, a torch which 
 seemed but just extinguished, and a small 
 ivory box. Curiosity prompted her .to 
 open it, to discover its contents, when 
 the sound of an approaching footstep, 
 followed by a deep sigh, caused Eleanor 
 to exclaim, although supposing it to be 
 the countess — u Dear lady, why will you 
 frighten one so ?"" The faintness of Al- 
 meria's voice, however, in answer, and 
 her exclamation of — " Where are you ?■' 
 now convinced the trembling girl that 
 she was not the object of her alarm. 
 With uncontrollable swiftness, therefore, 
 Eleanor regained the door, calling out, 
 M Here, here," when passing Francisco, 
 almost breathless with fear, she said — 
 u Oh, save your mistress V* upon which 
 the poor fellow, although not able to 
 vol. i. p stir 
 
98 ANSELMO. 
 
 stir from the spot through fright, began 
 to cry out vociferously — " Help ! help ! 
 thieves, murder, and robbery ! Oh 
 dear, oh dear, the countess and I shall 
 be killed. Help! help \"—« For Hea- 
 ven's sake," replied Almeria, who had 
 joined her attendant, " what is all this 
 noise for, Francisco ?" — " Why, honour- 
 ed lady," said he, hesitating, and falling 
 on his knees for pardon, tc the young 
 signora informed me the ruffians — the 
 apparitions I mean, had got hold of you, 
 my lady. 3 ' And so/ says she, ' Fran- 
 cisco do you stay where you are, only 
 make a great noise.' And I am sure 
 I did make a great noise, my lady, for 1 
 am quite hoarse with calling out so loud- 
 ly. " — " And where is Eleanor ?" repeat- 
 ed the countess, with anger. — " That, 
 indeed, I cannot tell, my lady ; I saw the 
 signora fly across yonder orange-grove, 
 but what has become of her after that I 
 don't know." — <e How extremely ridicu- 
 lous is such behaviour ! Come, sir," 
 
 continued 
 
ANSELMO. 99 
 
 continued Almeria, " follow me to the 
 grove then, that we may endeavour to 
 find her." 
 
 Their search, however, proved in vain. 
 Every cottage, hut, or dwelling-place, irk 
 the vicinity of Valleroy, was explored by 
 Francisco and his mistress, without suc- 
 cess. All hopes, therefore, of finding 
 the fair fugitive having expired, and 
 night advancing, they returned to the 
 castle. The countess, in the utmost dis- 
 tress of mind, inquired of the steward if 
 he had seen Eleanor ? On being answered 
 in the negative, she then directly or- 
 dered Francisco to repair to the monas- 
 tery, faintly supposing that she might, 
 in her alarm, have taken the path which 
 led through the intricacies of the Apen- 
 nines to Santa Maria. 
 
 On regaining the saloon, Almeria took 
 up a book, to wile away the hours that 
 Francisco must necessarily be absent. 
 Some time, however, having elapsed, 
 and yet no intelligence arriving of either, 
 f 2 the 
 
100 ANSELMO. 
 
 -the uneasiness of the countess became 
 so excessive, as at length to determine 
 her to wait no longer the return of the 
 servant, but to depart herself for the 
 convent. Accompanied, therefore., only 
 by Lauretta, she again left the castle, 
 and proceeded towards Santa Maria. 
 The moon, just rising over the mountains, 
 was of a deep red, and surrounded by 
 dark clouds touched with flame ; a few 
 trembling stars shone in the hemisphere; 
 but gradually disappearing, from the in- 
 creased brilliancy of their superior pla- 
 net, they at length left her sole empress 
 over the skies. The wind in gentle mur- 
 murs died away ; not a single zephyr 
 sighed amongst the trees, to disturb the 
 stillness that reigned around ; all nature 
 was at peace, save some few airy inhabi- 
 tants of the night, that occasionally 
 flitted across the patb, and in dulcet 
 melody proclaimed their artless loves. 
 
 On the countess and Lauretta ap- 
 proaching into a private track, which 
 
 led 
 
AXSELMO* 101 
 
 led a nearer way to the drawbridge, 
 the former involuntarily started : the 
 sound of a lute was heard in the adjoin- 
 ing temple. " Ah," said Lauretta, as 
 the strain continued, " it is an evening 
 hymn to our blessed Virgin ! Surely, 
 my lady, it is the signora that is playing 
 on purpose to terrify us;" but instantly 
 recollecting herself, she resumed, u yet 
 that is not probable, for I have heard 
 Theresa say that the temple has been 
 locked up for many years, by a strict 
 order from count Anselmo, and no per- 
 son permitted to enter it on any account 
 whatever." 
 
 " That injunction we must obey then, 
 Lauretta," said the countess ; " yet it is 
 strange ; the sounds evidently come from 
 thence; and look," repeated Almeria, 
 " do you not observe a figure gliding by 
 the windows ? Now it stops. Ah ! I 
 fear some dreadful history belongs to that 
 temple." — tf Indeed, my lady," she an- 
 swered with trepidity, whilst looking 
 f 3 towards 
 
102 ANSKLMO. 
 
 towards it, (t , I do see something moving 
 about, all in black, and without a head ! 
 I am sure, instead of advancing out of 
 the castle, we ought to make a speedy 
 return into if, my lady." 
 
 The countess, although possessed of 
 sufficient resolution in general to brave 
 every danger (from the proud conscious- 
 ness of innate rectitude), yet the vari- 
 ous incidents which had taken place, 
 with such rapidity, within the last twen- 
 ty-four hours, were distressing and aw- 
 ful. The arrival of Eleanor, scarcely an- 
 nounced at Valleroy before she js again 
 lost; the sudden departure of her hus- 
 band for Turin ; the unpleasant scene 
 which had happened at the cavern ; and 
 last of all, and most terrifying, was the 
 mysterious inhabitant of the temple, 
 which, notwithstanding Almeria's having 
 been more than three years a resident at 
 the castle, had never before attracted 
 her attention, except once during a 
 walk with the count, who merely an- 
 swered 
 
ANSEL MO. 103 
 
 swered the inquiry, by saying it had for- 
 merly been appropriated for a bath, but 
 then, of no further service, being com- 
 pletely uninhabited. 
 
 The sublime strain now finished, and 
 the figure was instantly lost to the sight 
 of the astonished Almeria and her atten- 
 dant. The concurrent events in so short 
 a period, and retrospection of the past, 
 now forcibly affected the countess Al- 
 meria : with faltering voice, and tearful, 
 eyes, she said— " My good girl, from the 
 respect I think you have for me, I charge 
 you not to mention to your fellow-ser- 
 vants, nor to any other person, one 
 word respecting what we have seen this 
 night ; such a disclosure, if heard of by 
 the count, would deeply irritate his feel- 
 ings, and perhaps be the means of your 
 instantaneous discharge from my service : 
 yet," continued Almeria, sighing, " al- 
 though such must be the secrecy atten- 
 dant on the affair, we will, if it is possi- 
 ble, procure a key of that temple, and 
 f 4 the 5 !! 
 
104 ANSELMO. 
 
 then explore the mystery which enve- 
 lopes it." Lauretta, apparently agi« 
 tated from the conclusion of this sen* 
 tence, the countess consoled her by say- 
 ing — (t Fear not the effect of supernatu- 
 ral agency, which, in reality, has no 
 existence, but fear the effect that may 
 be produced from human villany ; there 
 lies the evil. When man, great ruler 
 of this ephemeron world, conspires, with 
 deadly hatred, against his brother man, 
 wide-spreading devastation must be the 
 baneful consequence/* Almeria, how- 
 ever, on perceiving the pale and fright- 
 ened looks of her servant, and likewise 
 thinking it might be imprudent to ven- 
 ture by themselves to the monastery, at 
 length consented to return to the castle. 
 In their walk through the grove of 
 linden trees, which was opposite the 
 eastern windows of Valleroy, the sounds 
 of music were repeated, fainter than be* 
 fore, yet not less sweet. A few rapid 
 chords being struck by a masterly hand, 
 
 the 
 
ANSELMCh 105 
 
 the air commenced with peculiar grace,, 
 imparting an expressive wildness of fancy 
 in the execution, altogether grand and 
 pleasing. " Hark ! the lute has begun 
 again/' said Lauretta, who now was 
 more courageous as slie continued to 
 approach the eastle ; " indeed, my lady, 
 I think it is the signora." — " I know not 
 what to think," replied Almeria, " yet 
 let us then advance nearer this invisible 
 musician, and be convinced." 
 
 On their turning into a path from 
 whence the sounds proceeded, it was 
 almost darkened by interwoven branches 
 which entwined each other in soft em- 
 braces, and on whose boughs the liquid 
 note of a nightingale had begun to 
 chant her plaintive song to the listen- 
 ing moon. Between an interstice of the 
 grove, near a fountain whose gentle 
 spring supplied a small marble bason,' 
 and surrounded with flowers of the most 
 delightful perfume, stood a kind of her- 
 mitage. During the noonday heat, it 
 f 5 had 
 
106 ANSELMO. 
 
 had always been a favourite retreat for 
 Anselmo, to indulge in meditation and 
 study. 
 
 " Here, pluhg'd amid the shadows brown, 
 Imagination lays him down; 
 Attentive, in his airy mood, 
 To ev'ry murmur of the wood ; 
 The bee in yonder flow'ry nook ; 
 The chidings of the headlong brook ; 
 The green leaf quiv'ring in the gale ; 
 The warbling 'hill; the lowing vale; 
 The distant woodman's echoing stroke ; 
 The thunder of the falling oak. v 
 From thought to thought, in vision led, 
 He holds high converse with the dead/' 
 
 To this romantic and melancholy 
 abode then, Almeria now bent her steps. 
 The music instantly ceased ; and her ex- 
 clamation of " Eleanor/* and " where 
 are you ?" was followed by a terrific 
 scream of her attendant, who being at a 
 short distance from her mistress, called 
 out— [' There it flies towards the temple !" 
 
 and 
 
ANSELMO. - 107 
 
 and continued — " Oh, my lady, I shall 
 certainly die with fright if you will not 
 quit this terrible place." All the coun- 
 tess's expostulations to Lauretta, in 
 hopes of calming her disturbed imagin- 
 ation, had no effect ; the poor girl fan- 
 cied she had again seen the spectre. She 
 was therefore obliged, however unwil- 
 lingly, to yield to her remonstrance of 
 regaining the castle, where, however, no 
 Eleanor or Francisco had yet arrived. 
 
 Wearied and unhappy, Almeria then 
 re-entered the saloon, flung herself upon 
 a couch, and shed tears abundantly, 
 whilst reproaches mentally afflicted her, 
 for ever having consented to become the 
 wife of Anselmo. His mysterious con- 
 duct, and sometimes cool treatment to- 
 wards her, so unlike the tenderness, the 
 love, she had experienced from the gallant 
 but unfortunate Montauban, bore heavy 
 on the already-distressed mind of the 
 countess. Past years were reflected upon 
 with deep-felt anguish, future ones with 
 f 6 insupportable 
 
103 ANSELMO. 
 
 insupportable terror. As the timid deer, 
 therefore, flies from the hunter's cry, 
 and seeks for covert in the fostering 
 shades, far from the haunts of men and 
 its wild pursuers, so did Almeria wish to 
 be immured, and to weep away her life, 
 alone and unobserved, in the friendly 
 nook of some distant mountain. 
 
 Such sad thoughts as these succeeding 
 each other with astonishing rapidity, 
 drove her almost to madness. With wild- 
 ness exclaiming — " Why, my lord, oh, 
 why could not my gratitude be returned 
 in some other way than this ? Had I 
 been possessed of the riches of Golcon- 
 da's mines, you should have had them all 
 —all, Anselmo, to have repaid the obli- 
 gation I owed you ; yet they would not 
 have been enough ; no, myself must 
 likewise be the sacrifice, and therefore 
 am I doomed to endless misery ;" con- 
 tinuing in a frenzied manner, " wretched 
 Almeria ! My son, too, dear Albert, 
 hates his mother for this second mar- 
 riage, and sedulously avoids her." 
 
 f J Heavenly 
 
ANSELMO. 109 
 
 " Heavenly powers !" ejaculated a 
 voice, that now struck motionless the 
 heart of Almeria — IC Avoid you ! not for 
 worlds would I avoid you." The coun- 
 tess now turning round to her auditor, 
 beheld with astonishment and ineffable 
 delight the object of her only hope, her 
 dearest Albert, kneeling at her feet for 
 pardon, and pressing with fervour her 
 almost lifeless form. 
 
 Almeria held out her hand towards 
 him as a token of forgiveness; would 
 have spoken, but could not ; utterance, 
 indeed, seemed totally denied to her; 
 again looked, sighed heavily, and nature 
 then being quite exhausted,, she fainted 
 in the arms of her son. 
 
 " Oh, my mother ! my beloved mo- 
 ther !" continued the agitated Montau- 
 ban, " revive, oh, revive, to bless your 
 Albert, whose existence is no longer 
 valuable than whilst it tends to prolong 
 the life, and promote the happiness of 
 his parent," These cheering and con-. 
 
 soling 
 
110 ANSELHO. 
 
 soling words gradually restored the be- 
 wildered senses of the countess; whilst 
 clasping Albert to her breast she ex- 
 claimed — " Image of your dead father, 
 the brave Montauban ! oh, my boy, he 
 lives again in you ! judge, therefore, the 
 agony of your mother, from your long 
 absence, and yet greater for the cause that 
 produced it. War! destructive war!" 
 she continued, " which engulp.hs whole 
 nations in one dreadful scene of slaugh- 
 ter, tearing the husband from his wife, 
 the child from his parent, destroying the 
 happiness of thousands; and all for to 
 satisfy the wild furor, the unsatiated am- 
 bition, perhaps, of an individual." 
 
 Every endearment, every kind atten- 
 tion, did Albert then have recourse to, 
 in order to sooth the perturbed spirits 
 of his mother; yet still the fate of Elea- 
 nor continued to distress and perplex 
 her. The countess, therefore, commu- 
 nicated to Montauban, in very few 
 words, the history of their short ac- 
 quaintance, 
 
ANSELMO. Ill 
 
 quaintance, and the orphan's sudden and 
 mysterious flight. 
 
 At this intelligence, it was with diffi- 
 culty Albert could be retained from go- 
 ing in pursuit, even before she had men- 
 tioned the place most probable to find 
 her — the monastery of Santa Maria. 
 
 " Not a moment should be lost, dear 
 madam," exclaimed the young soldier, 
 as he now ran, or rather flew, to remount 
 his horse, which, with his servant, was 
 in waiting at the gates of the castle, and 
 who offered to attend him ; but Mont- 
 auban, hastily declining his services, set 
 off full speed, and was out of sight in 
 an instant. 
 
 CHAP; 
 
112 ANSELMO; 
 
 CHAP. VII. 
 
 * His days appear a constant scene of joy ; 
 Gold glitters in his precious robes; 
 His pride's as boundless as his wealth ; 
 He never wounds the air with mournful sighs ; 
 The voice of harmony salutes his ear, 
 When he lies down to sleep ; and when he wakes- 
 Triumphant plenty, with a cheerful grace, 
 Basks in his eyes, and sparkles in his face." 
 
 Whilst Albert is employed on the friend- 
 ly mission of endeavouring to regain the 
 lovely fugitive, we shall pursue count 
 Anselmo to the castle of Oldenzo, previ- 
 ous to his journey into the province of 
 Piedmont, and elucidate the apparent 
 cause for the dark shade of embarrassments 
 
 with 
 
ANSELMO, 113 
 
 with which he was surrounded. On that day, 
 a letter arrived at Valleroy for Anselmo> 
 of a most distressing nature : it was from 
 signior Rodolphus, the successor of the 
 count (by his express recommendation 
 to the duke of Savoy) in his senatorial 
 capacity. Anselmo and Rodolphus were 
 on the strictest terms of friendship, from 
 the intimacy which had long subsisted 
 between their families, and the contigu- 
 ity of their residence in Tuscany. Both 
 were Italians from birth, and each were 
 alike distinguishable for personal bra- 
 very and attachment to their country. 
 In consequence of the derangement in 
 the affairs of Rodolphus, after the de- 
 cease of his father, and the displeasure 
 that his mother felt at his marriage with 
 a German lady of obscure birth, he had 
 for some years absented himself from 
 Italy, and chiefly resided in the French 
 dominions. On the death, however, of 
 his mother, and the high post occupied 
 by his friend, the count, at the illustrious 
 
 court 
 
H£ ANSELBIO. 
 
 court of Savoy, who promised to pro* 
 cure him an eligible situation under the 
 government, he returned with his fami- 
 ly, consisting of his wife, one son, and 
 a daughter, into Italy, and took up his 
 abode at his paternal mansion, near 
 Grossetto, in Tuscany. 
 
 As Rodolphus will bear no inconsider- 
 able part in this history* a few striking 
 features of his character may now be 
 thought necessary, to form the judg- 
 ment of the reader as to his pretensions 
 for successfully supplying the place of 
 such an active and profound politician 
 as the count Anselmo, whose loss was 
 generally lamented. Signior Rodolphus 
 possessed great erudition, was well bred, 
 particularly versed in the manners of 
 the courts of Europe, and thoroughly 
 acquainted with their various forms of 
 government. Being also master of seve- 
 ral languages, he was proficient in a 
 florid kind of oratory, which impercep- 
 tibly led, without apparent design or 
 
 intention*. 
 
ANSEBMO. 115 
 
 intention, the disposition of his hearers 
 to coincide with him in any act that he 
 projected; and although naturaliy pos- 
 sessed of a sullen and unforgiving tem- 
 per, if ever thwarted in any of his fa- 
 vourite pursuits, yet we must attribute 
 to him great boldness in his enterprizes, 
 as entertaining a sovereign contempt for 
 danger. In this latter trait he resem- 
 bled his friend, though with some slight 
 difference : Anselmo's temper partook 
 too much of that impetuosity of Rodol- 
 phus, which often rendered him head- 
 strong and ungovernable, both in his 
 words and actions : the latter, more pru- 
 dent, seldom gave way to the heats and 
 bursts of passion ; for his quick-sighted 
 sagacity endued him with a presence of 
 mind suitable to all emergencies, whilst 
 bis friend was often too much elated by 
 the events that bore a prosperous aspect, 
 and too depressed or desponding under 
 those whose appearance were adverse. 
 
 Rodolphus 
 
116 ANSEL5I0. 
 
 Rodolphus never despaired ; Hope a?~ 
 ways sat triumphant on his brow, amidst 
 every misfortune ; and a point once 
 determined on in his mind, was never re- 
 linquished ; no, not even at the hazard 
 of life. Ansel mo frequently inclined 
 more to the advice of others, whom he 
 thought either more sensible, or better 
 informed on the subject; but Rodolphus 
 never; self-confident, he acted with po- 
 sitive and determinate firmness ; and, on 
 that account, in the deranged state of 
 the affairs of the country at that period, 
 Rodolphus was unanimously judged to 
 be the most able, most competent suc- 
 cessor of count Anselmo. Such a man 
 seemed certainly formed to be at the 
 helm of the government, where the 
 people were beginning to be factious 
 and divided, jealous of the power of 
 aristocracy, and yet sunk into such a 
 state of apathy and indolence, that it 
 required much foresight, great prudence, 
 
 and 
 
ASTSELMO. 117 
 
 Tittd strong energy of mind, to rouse 
 them to a due sense of their impending 
 danger. 
 
 Since the marriage of Anselmo with 
 madame de Montauban, from some in- 
 cidental cause, neither Rodolphus or his 
 family had visited Valleroy ; yet not 
 from any apparent difference having 
 arisen between them, for seldom a week 
 was suffered to elapse, when signior Ro- 
 dolphus was in Tuscany, without Ansel- 
 mo's being a guest at the residence of 
 his friend. It was now, therefore, on the 
 return of the latter from Turin, that he 
 immediately wrote to the count, request- 
 ing a conference with him, and likewise 
 advising the expediency of Anselmo's 
 repairing to that capital without loss of 
 time, as unpleasant rumours had been 
 circulated much to his disadvantage, and 
 the public opinion had of late been 
 expressed with great virulence against 
 Anselmo, respecting his marriage with 
 the widow of general de Montauban, 
 
 together 
 
US ANSELMO. 
 
 together with retiring from office when 
 his services were most required by his 
 country. Rodolphus thought it, there- 
 fore, highly proper, he said, that his 
 friend should appear in person at the 
 court of Savoy, to refute the injurious 
 charge against his honour, and repel the 
 foul aspersions of his character. 
 
 The contents of this letter no less 
 agitated than astonished the count, be- 
 cause four years had been suffered to 
 expire since those events had taken 
 place, and until this period not even the 
 slightest sound of defamation's voice 
 had ever reached the knowledge of An- 
 selmo ; but being now undoubtedly 
 traduced, and by that means his cha- 
 racter materially injured, the count also 
 thought it advisable immediately to set 
 out for Turin, and to solicit an interview 
 with the duke of Savoy, for the purpose 
 of procuring, if possible, the names of 
 those persons by whom he had been ca- 
 lumniated. 
 
 On 
 
ANSELMO. 119 
 
 On his departure from Valleroy, the 
 -count and his retinue first proceeded to 
 the castle of Rodolphus, where he was 
 received with every demonstration of 
 friendship. On his entrance into the 
 grand hall, which was hung round with 
 military trophies and other warlike en- 
 signs, he was welcomed bv the wife of 
 Rodolphus and her son, an elegant 
 young man, then in his twentieth year, 
 and in person and manners greatly re- 
 sembling his father. Ernestine Rodol- 
 phus had been an officer in the same 
 regiment with Albert de Montauban, yet 
 no cordiality subsisted between them ; 
 indeed a most disdainful conduct had 
 been manifested towards each other ; and 
 in consequence of that, and a recent 
 quarrel, Rodolphus challenged Albert : 
 they fought, and the latter being 
 wounded, as was then supposed serious- 
 ly, prince Eugene, from the great re- 
 spect he entertained for Montauban, or- 
 dered that his antagonist should be im- 
 mediately 
 
ISO ANSELMO. 
 
 mediately cashiered ; and therefore Ro- 
 dolphus thus retired from the army in 
 disgust. 
 
 Anselmo having been apprized by the 
 elder Rodolphus of the disastrous termi- 
 nation of the duel, and of the resignation 
 of his son in consequence of it, he ad- 
 dressed a very severe and sarcastic letter 
 on the subject to Albert, who, highly 
 incensed at such an unjust remonstrance 
 from the count, when it was so well 
 known that Ernestine Rodolphus was the 
 aggressor, he, in the heat of passion, 
 without the aid of reason, or the least 
 consideration, returned for answer one 
 equally spirited and indignant; and had 
 the temerity to reproach Anselmo with 
 the undue influence he had contrived to 
 obtain over his mother, for the purpose 
 of receiving the honour of her hand in 
 marriage; that his wealth, titles, the 
 splendour of his residence, and the pub- 
 lic voice of fame, which were all attached 
 to the count, might perhaps be consi- 
 dered 
 
ANSELMO. 121 
 
 dered by the generality of her sex as 
 baubles worthy their acceptance; but 
 that his mother, a woman endowed with 
 such superiority of sense and personal 
 accomplishments, the widow, too, of his 
 father, the late general de Montauban, 
 by her they would ever be considered 
 as dross ; and the day, the hour, that wit- 
 nessed the solemnization of their nup- 
 tials, had (he believed) fatally consigned 
 his mother to unceasing regret, and to 
 eternal misery. 
 
 On the receipt of this letter by the 
 count, his rage knew no bounds. He 
 made a solemn vow to renounce Albert 
 for ever, and to deprive him of all claims 
 on his fortune and estates, which, in 
 order the more effectually to gain an 
 interest in the heart of Almeria, he had 
 settled on her son previous tQ their mar- 
 riage. This determination of the count 
 was sent in his own hand-writing to 
 Montauban, with this injunction like- 
 wise—'' That at his peril, he should ne* 
 
 \oi.. i. g ver 
 
f22 ANSELMO. 
 
 -ver again dare to appear at Valleroy, on 
 any account whatever; that if he was 
 seen, even in the precincts of that place, 
 his life should be the atonement for his 
 audacity/* 
 
 This dreadful mandate did not in the 
 least terrify or come unexpected to Al- 
 bert : yet he deeply regretted the con- 
 sequent deprivation of his enjoying the 
 society of his beloved mother; from 
 another circumstance, too, lie inwardly 
 reproached himself with having been the 
 occasion of such a severe sentence from 
 the count Anselmo; yet his pride rose so 
 predominant to every consideration of 
 personal interest, that any acknowledge- 
 ment, or confession of error, was deemed 
 by Albert as derogatory to his honour, 
 and to him far dearer than life itself. 
 
 Thence was it to be ascribed the non- 
 receival of letters from him at Valleroy : 
 he had oft written to his mother, but as 
 oft were they intercepted by the count ; 
 and no communication whatever, direct- 
 ed 
 
ANSELMO. 123 
 
 ^d to her, was to be delivered without 
 his express permission first obtained, 
 and examining their contents. Anselmo 
 was certainly so far prudent in not mak- 
 ing known to tne countess the displea- 
 sure he felt towards her son, who had 
 ever been regarded by the count with 
 jealousy and suspicion ; and the late in- 
 dignity he had received, confirmecl 
 more strongly the aversion Anselmo had 
 before entertained of him. The renun- 
 ciation of Albert, and denial of access to 
 the castle, was the ostensible motive 
 which actuated the count to send for 
 Eleanor from the monastery, in hopes 
 that her soft manners, her mild and 
 obliging behaviour, would tend to con- 
 sole the mind of the countess, and di- 
 vert from the uneasiness which had pos- 
 sessed it, by the protracted absence of her 
 son. 
 
 A few weeks previous to the departure 
 
 of Anselmo for Savoy, the presence of 
 
 Montauban was required at Turin, to 
 
 g 2 attend 
 
•124 AKSELMO. 
 
 attend a military council. He therefore 
 left his regiment in the suit of prince 
 Eugene ; and on their arrival at the capi- 
 tal, his royal highness immediately intro- 
 duced our young hero at court, with an 
 express recommendation, for hisr bravery 
 and his good deportment, since he had 
 been under his command ; and in con- 
 sequence, Albert de Montauban was most 
 graciously received by the duke of 
 Savoy, who deeply deplored the loss the 
 army had sustained from his father's 
 death, and yet the more for the occa- 
 sion that unhappily had produced that 
 event. The duke then went on to say, 
 ?' That every method had been re- 
 sorted to, from which they might hope 
 to discover the calumniators of the de- 
 ceased general, in whose cause the 
 country had of late been particularly in- 
 terested." The name of the count Ansel- 
 mo was then mentioned by the duke 
 with extreme displeasure, and some ex- 
 planation concerning him seemed to be 
 
 expected 
 
ANSELMO. 125 
 
 expected from Albert. Revenge was 
 now in his power ; yet did the upright 
 mind of the young soldier scorn to in- 
 dulge in his breast so unfair and unman- 
 ly a gratification, as that of injuring the 
 reputation of the absent On the con- 
 trary, in answer to his sovereign, Mpnt- 
 auban sought to palliate even the indis- 
 cretions of Anselmo, by saying, his 
 health certainly required repose and re- 
 tirement; and as to- the marriage of his 
 mother witlf the count, he thought 
 their affection mutual — gratitude actua- 
 ting the one, sincere love the other. , 
 
 It would not have been possible for 
 Anselmo at this juncture to have had a 
 more powerful advocate than Albert de 
 Montauban, whose character, at this 
 early age, and short period of being in 
 the army, had risen high in the estima- 
 tion of his profession, and entitled him 
 to the gratitude of his countrymen ; but 
 what had tended more than all to endear 
 him to these, and to claim his sovereign's 
 c 3 thanks, 
 
126 ANSELMO. 
 
 thanks, was his signal prowess in preserv- 
 ing the valuable life of his royal com- 
 mander. At the commencement of Hi*. 
 career, Albert was ordered, with a detach- 
 ment of Piedmontese troops, to make 
 a sortie from the fortress of Montmelian ; 
 and during the time he was successfully 
 engaged with the enemy, Montauban 
 observed at a distance prince Eugene, 
 who was arriving with only two atten- 
 dants, to inspect the fortress in disguise, 
 surrounded by a party of Frenchmen, 
 who had been laying in ambush amidst 
 some vineyards. With an incredible ve- 
 locity, Albert immediately mounted the 
 charger of a French officer whom he had 
 wounded, his own having been shot in 
 the rencounter, and hastened to the as- 
 sistance of the prince. Plunging through 
 the ranks of the enemy, and dealing 
 destruction with his sabre to those 
 who opposed his progress, Montauban 
 arrived just in time to ward of! from 
 his defenceless chieftain the deadly blow 
 
 that 
 
ANSELMO. 127 
 
 that was levelled at him, and to bear 
 him off triumphantly from the dastardly, 
 the astonished crew. One of the fol- 
 lowers of the prince was slain ; but the 
 other, through the valour of Montauban, 
 escaped in safety. 
 
 Having experienced the most distin- 
 guished marks of royal favour during 
 his short residence at the capital, Albert 
 rejoined his regiment, which was then in 
 the neighbourhood of Turin, they having 
 some time previous been compelled to 
 evacuate the fortress of Montmelian, 
 through failure of the necessary supplies, 
 and a contagious mortality reigning 
 amongst the troops of the garrison. 
 
 In returning to the reception count 
 Anselmo met at the castle of Ilodolphus, 
 it may suffice to say, no expence was 
 spared by which its inhabitants could 
 demonstrate the cordialitv and the friend- 
 ship which subsisted between them. Sig- 
 nior Rodolphus, who had been enjoying 
 the sports of the chace, now arrived to 
 c 4 welcome 
 
128 ANSELMO* 
 
 ■welcome the count ; he was then in 
 close conference with Ernestine in the 
 saloon, who (his mother having retired 
 to give orders to the domestics) was in- 
 forming Anselmo, with deep concern, 
 from a promise of secrecy, of the fatal 
 cause of the quarrel between him and 
 Montauban. On the entrance of his 
 father, Ernestine abruptly changed the 
 conversation, vet not without an intima- 
 tion to resume it, that night; if Ansel- 
 mo would permit him to enter his apart- 
 ment. 
 
 The usual compliments and expres- 
 sions of kindness at the meeting of the 
 friends being over, and after their having 
 taken refreshment the best the castle 
 could afford, Rodolphus requested a pri- 
 vate conference with the count, who in- 
 stantly followed him to the library, and 
 where they remained in close converse 
 for several hours. On re-entering the 
 saloon, Rodolphus sought by various 
 ways to amuse his friend, appearing at 
 the same time unusually gay and sportive! 
 
 Not 
 
ANSELMO. 129\ 
 
 Not so Anselmo; a deep and profound j 
 melancholy hung over his brow; his 
 ideas were often so abstracted, and his 
 mind so completely absent from the pre- 
 sent scene of mirth, that it required much 
 foresight, and the greatest prudence, 
 in the master of the mansion, to pre- 
 vent his guest from uttering exclamations 
 which it seemed Rodolphus thought bet- 
 ter should be concealed. His daughter 
 Lavigna, a pleasing girl, just emerged, 
 into fashionable life from the confines 
 of a monastery, was now therefore com- 
 manded by her father to exert likewise 
 her powers of vocal fascination, in the 
 hope that music's powerful charm would 
 tend to divert the count from his reverie. 
 A national air, describing the love of an 
 Alpine shepherd for his mistress, was 
 then sung by Lavigna, with much pathos 
 and judgment. The melody of the com- 
 position, though simple, was beautifully 
 pathetic, yet it could not sooth or calm 
 the contending agonies existing in the 
 c 5 breast 
 
130 ANSELMO. 
 
 breast of Anselmo. Rodolphus perceiv- 
 ing the evident uneasiness of his friend, 
 immediately ordered lights to be 
 brought, and then conducted the count 
 to his apartment. A sullen silence was 
 observed by Anselmo towards Rodolphus, 
 who, on leaving him, exclaimed — <c Are 
 you a man ? if you are, you do not be- 
 bave like one." The count, however, 
 heeded not this abrupt and singular 
 question of Rodolphus, who, on finding 
 his friend so completely lost in thought, 
 and disposed for solitude, left him to 
 his meditations. 
 
 Shortly after, Ernestine, who was true 
 to his appointment with the count, 
 knocked softly at the door of his cham- 
 ber; having waited some time in expec- 
 tation of admittance, a second signal was 
 given by him, and then endeavoured to 
 open it ; but on finding it locked, he lis- 
 tened, and fancied he heard the voice of 
 Anselmo, apparently moaning in great 
 anguish. In the intervals of the sudden 
 
 gusts 
 
ANSELMO. 13 J 
 
 gusts of wind, which kept blustering 
 through the casements, and whistled 
 along the hall with dismal sound, it was 
 repeated with greater agony. " My 
 lord!" now ejaculated Ernestine, with 
 emotion, " are you indisposed ? I en- 
 treat you suffer me to be a sharer in 
 your grief, from whatever cause it un- 
 happily arises.** No answer was however 
 returned to this kind intention of the 
 youth to the count, who therefore finding 
 all expostulation useless, and supposing 
 the reason to be Anselmo's sudden and 
 alarming illness, hastily descended to the 
 saloon, with a communication to his fa- 
 ther of their guest's indisposition. Ro- 
 dolphus, who had so recently parted from 
 his friend in perfect health, except being 
 mentally agitated, for which he knew 
 that solitude was the only remedy, and 
 most efficient cure for him, began there- 
 fore to smile at these ridiculous fears of 
 his son, as he termed it, and perempto 
 rily commanded that the count Anselmo 
 g 6 should 
 
132 ANSSLMO. 
 
 should not again \>e disturbed from his 
 repose. , 
 
 In the morning, the family having met 
 at the breakfast-table, and no appearance 
 of the count, Rodolphus then ordering 
 one of his servants to apprize Anselmo of 
 the lateness of the hour, was informed by 
 the domestic that the count had already 
 taken his departure for Turin, without 
 any of his attendants, who had, however, 
 been desired to follow him with all con- 
 venient speed. Rodolphus inquiring of 
 his servant whether the count had pro- 
 ceeded in his carriage ? was answered, 
 " No, my lord, on horseback. " This- 
 strange and unexpected retreat of An- 
 selmo produced no surprise from Ro- 
 dolphus, who was accustomed to these 
 singular flights of his friend; every thing, 
 therefore, in a few hours, appeared 
 restored in this mansion to its usual or- 
 der and serenity. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
ANSEIMO. 133. 
 
 CHAP. VIIT. 
 
 Domestic happiness, thou only bliss 
 
 Of Paradise that has surviv'd the fall ! 
 
 Though few now taste thee unimpair'd and pure, 
 
 Or tasting, long enjoy thee ; too infirm, 
 
 Or too incautious, to preserve thy sweets 
 
 Unmix'd with drops of bitter, which neglect 
 
 Or temper sheds into thy crystal cup. Cowper, 
 
 We will now leave Anselmo to visit the 
 castle of Valleroy, where joy brighten- 
 ed the countenance of its inhabitants, 
 from the appearance of our youthful 
 warrior, whose presence had so greatly 
 cheered the afflicted heart of his mother. 
 We have likewise to say, that her anxiety 
 respecting the fate of Eleanor was soon 
 
 terminated, 
 
134 ANSELMO. 
 
 terminated _, by the second arrival of her 
 son at Valleroy with the fair fugitive. 
 On re-entering the saloon, Albert con- 
 ducted the blushing girl to the arms of 
 the countess, who received her with un- 
 feigned pleasure and cordiality. Having 
 been apprized by Montauban of the 
 alarm that her absence had produced at 
 the castle, and acquainting him with the 
 real cause of her flight, confused and 
 agitated upon the occasion, Eleanor 
 possessed not the power, nor had the 
 inclination, to defend her singular con- 
 duct ; the task, the pleasing task, of be- 
 ing her advocate, in consequence was. 
 undertaken by Albert. He candidly 
 stated to his mother, that the same in- 
 stantaneous fear which had compelled 
 her young friend to fly from the cavern, 
 actuated likewise to prevent her know- 
 ing the leading path to Valleroy. u Wan- 
 dering among the mountains, vainly 
 seeking for the habitation of some hu- 
 man being to direct her to the castle, 
 
 and 
 
ANSELMO. 135 
 
 and night fast advancing, yon can well 
 imagine," continued Albert to the 
 countess, " the increasing terror of 
 Eleanor in such a situation ; but Provi- 
 dence, which never fails to protect the 
 innocent, at last directed her to the 
 cottage of an aged shepherdess, near the 
 monastery of Santa Maria, where, be- 
 ing almost exhausted with fatigue, she 
 knocked at the door, requesting admit- 
 tance. On hearing the sound of a fe- 
 male voice, the old woman, with her 
 daughter, (a young girl about fifteen 
 years of age,) came out, and upon com- 
 municating her situation, kindly offered 
 her their assistance. Your lovely charge, 
 madam," continued Albert, " was then 
 led into their little dwelling, and from 
 them received the most hospitable treat- 
 ment. The road I took to gain the mo- 
 nastery necessarily obliged me to pass 
 that very cottage; and on alighting 
 from my horse, to make inquiry for thfe 
 shortest way to Santa Maria, I here met, 
 
 with 
 
156 AXSELMO/ 
 
 with pleasure unexpected, the object of 
 my search, dearest Eleanor." Confused, 
 however, at having called her by so 
 familiar an apellation, Albert was unable 
 to continue the recital. The remainder 
 of it was therefore left to Eleanor, who, 
 with much sweetness of voice, her pe- 
 culiar characteristic, acknowledged the 
 obligation she felt for his kind care, in 
 conducting her from the cottage to Val- 
 leroy, and the delight she experienced 
 at being again restored to her benefac- 
 tress. 
 
 The countess Anselmo beins: now re- 
 lieved from those agonizing fears re- 
 specting the fate of her son and Eleanor, 
 which had likewise so truly distressed 
 her, became not only cheerful, but en- 
 joyed for several hours, in their society, 
 happiness devoid of inward sorrow — the 
 latter too long the companion of the ami- 
 able Almeria. Montauban, however, had 
 accomplished more in that day, from the 
 speed with which he had performed his 
 
 journey, 
 
ANSELMO. 157 
 
 journey, than his strength would permit, 
 considering the effects of the recent 
 duel between him and Rodolphus, and 
 the acute pain experienced from his 
 wound. The ball had perforated his 
 right shoulder, and from too great fa- 
 tigue began to bleed afresh. For some 
 time, Albert endeavoured to conceal the 
 effusion, by twisting a handkerchief 
 round it, and pretending drowsiness, 
 that he might be permitted to retire 
 soon to his apartment. The countess, 
 on perceiving his wan and pallid coun- 
 tenance, immediately ordered lights to 
 be brought for that purpose; and on 
 Montauban's taking leave of his mother 
 and her protegee, to the latter addressing 
 himself with peculiar softness, Eleanor, 
 who had hitherto been afraid of encoun- 
 tering the expressive looks of the young 
 soldier, now ventured to raise her down- 
 cast eyes, to return his salutation, when, 
 with a look of extreme terror, she ex- 
 claimed — " Oh Heaven, I am the unhap- 
 
 py 
 
13S ANSELMO. 
 
 py cause of all this;" and with more 
 faintness continued — " therefore shall I 
 be for ever miserable." The surprise of 
 rhe countess, from such incoherent sen- 
 tences proceeding from the lips of Elea- 
 nor, could only be equalled by observ- 
 ing in an instant afterwards that she had 
 fallen lifeless into the arms of Montau- 
 ban. 
 
 In> a moment of such consternation, 
 Albert became forgetful of every thing 
 around him but the lovely orphan ; he 
 tore off the handkerchief from his arm, 
 and with evident distraction o£ mind 
 declared he would never survive her 
 loss. The mother's amazement was now- 
 changed into horror, on observing that 
 her son was wounded, and apparently, 
 too, bereft of sense, whilst with inex- 
 pressible agony he pressed to his heart 
 the death-like form of Eleanor, who still 
 remained in a state of insensibility. The 
 countess immediately rang the bell for 
 assistance; and on the domestics attend- 
 ing 
 
AXSELMO. 139 
 
 ing the summons, they were scarcely 
 less terrified than their mistress, who, 
 wirti imploring looks and beseeching ac- 
 cents, was then persuading Albert ft) 
 leave Eleanor to her care, that he might 
 himself receive the aid he stood so much 
 in need of. 
 
 The first that entered the saloon was 
 the servant of Montaubair; he likewise 
 entreated his master to accede to the 
 wishes of the countess — * f Dear sir," 
 continued the poor fellow, " pray suffer 
 me to lead you to your chamber; in- 
 deed you are very ill." This last ex- 
 pression had the effect of recalling to 
 animation the fainting Eleanor; she sigh- 
 ed deeply, but being too fatally con- 
 vinced of the assertion of the domestic, 
 again hid herself in his bosom, and burst 
 into a flood of tears. 
 
 Montauban perceiving that she was re- 
 covering, now consigned her to the pro- 
 tection of his mother ; to whom, in hopes 
 of consoling her, he pronounced with 
 
 cheerfulness, 
 
140 ANSELMO. 
 
 cheerfulness., that his indisposition would 
 be trifling, was he but relieved of the fears 
 he entertained of Eleanor's. The apparent 
 mutual regard of these young people for 
 each other, during the short space of a 
 few hours acquaintance, appeared to all 
 so astonishing, and to the countess so 
 perfectly unintelligible, that it was with 
 difficulty she could find words again to 
 solicit, if the entreaties of a parent were 
 at all to be respected, that he would re- 
 tire to his apartment. Almeria likewise 
 informed the object of her solicitude, 
 that a monk from an adjacent convent 
 was sent for expressly to attend on him, 
 being well skilled in the ayt of surgery 
 and simples — " By whatever malignant 
 hand you have received your wound, 
 dear Albert," continued the countess,. 
 u rest assured that a mother's prayers 
 for the restoration of the health of her 
 son will not be unavailing. " — " Then, 
 madam," answered the agitated Mont- 
 auban, " you must pray for the recovery 
 
 of 
 
* ANSELMO. 141 
 
 of Eleanor, for on her life depends that 
 of your Albert's.*' When immediately, 
 without waiting for a reply, Montauban, 
 attended by Lupino, left the saloon; and 
 on repairing to his chamber, there 
 awaited the arrival of the stranger, from 
 whom however he vainly hoped for re- 
 lief. Mental anguish was the real wound 
 which tormented the gallant soldier ; and 
 that malady, with only human foresight, 
 appeared to him without a remedy. 
 
 It has been said, that perfection of 
 character, were it possible to describe if, 
 ought uiot to be represented; its very 
 greatness, and the utter impossibility of 
 acquiring that heavenly attribute here 
 on earth, would probably deter the ■ 
 reader from endeavouring to attain it ; 
 such might amaze the mind, dazzle the 
 understanding, and attract the attention 
 for a season, but of such a season would 
 be jhe termination of its existence. For 
 the sake of example, necessity imposes 
 the task of portraying faults, as well as 
 
 displaying 
 
142 ANSELMO. 
 
 displaying virtues, and that the latter 
 should preponderate is as just as honour- 
 able to the feelings of an author, who 
 always should endeavour, even amidst 
 the lighter sallies of wit and humour, to 
 inculcate morality, excite emulation, and 
 at the same time, whilst they please the 
 imagination, they may instruct and make 
 the heart glow with the sentiments of 
 virtue and distinguished goodness. In 
 delineating, therefore, the character of 
 Albert, although we shall find more ac- 
 tions worthy of praise than to condemn, 
 we shall likewise, being but in the 
 sphere of mortality, find many deserving 
 of censure. His disposition, generous 
 and noble, was, however, unforgiving, 
 in those instances where he thought his 
 honour sustained an injury ; for then, 
 not even the savage lion, who exults in 
 human prey, could equal the fury of 
 Montauban, when aroused to it by fell 
 ingratitude or supposed insult. 
 
 This lamentable trait of character had 
 
 now 
 
ANSELMO. 143 
 
 -now then an opportunity, too fatally 
 for his own peace, of fully displaying 
 itself, from the arrival of the stranger, 
 who, on lifting up his cowl, discover- 
 ed himself to be the friend of the count 
 Anselmo, the monk Lodovico. Sur- 
 prise, indignation, arising even to ab- 
 horrence, swelled in the breast of Al- 
 bert, at the unexpected sight of this 
 man, Lodovico being but too well 
 known to him. " Well, sir," sard Mont- 
 auban, with peculiar dignity and con- 
 tempt marked on his countenance, (t to 
 whom am I to consider myself indebted 
 for the honour of your attendance ?" — 
 iC To your mother, sir," replied the 
 monk, with a seeming servility in his 
 aspect, although inwardly hurt at such a 
 reception; and on perceiving the rising 
 indignation of Albert at this information, 
 continued, in a less pleasing tone of 
 voice — " Humanity, young soldier, was 
 the watch-word that brought me here; 
 but insolence, I now understand, is the 
 
 countersign." 
 
144 ANSELMO. 
 
 countersign. " — " Humanity !" retorted 
 Montauban, with irony, " which you 
 have never practised, and know not 
 what it means; away then with the am- 
 biguous phrase, and let your oracle be 
 understood." To this singular reply 
 .and insinuation of Albert, respecting the 
 motive which could have induced the 
 monk to visit him, no answer was re- 
 turned. Lodovico arose from his seat, 
 and with one look he darted at Mont- 
 auban, in which was mingled contempt, 
 rage, and despair, he instantly quitted 
 the apartment. 
 
 On descending into the hall, Lodovico 
 met the countess Anselmo. Her affec- 
 tionate inquiries of the state of her son's 
 health was replied to by the monk with 
 every apparent mark of friendship — 
 " Rest, rest, my dear lady," said he, " is 
 all that your son now requires : gay, 
 volatile, and heedless of any danger aris- 
 ing from his indiscretion, he has per- 
 formed a journey in one day which a 
 
 prudent 
 
ANSELMO, 145 
 
 prudent man would only have under- 
 taken to have done in three : it has 
 therefore brought on a slight inflam- 
 mation in the wound ; perfect repose, 
 however, both of mental and bodily fa- 
 tigue, will, I think, effect a speedy cure. 
 At all times," continued Lodovico, bow- 
 ing with great respect, " my advice 
 and services are at your command : in- 
 deed, no greater pleasure could be con- 
 ferred on me, by my noble friends at 
 Valleroy, than to be enabled to prove 
 this asseveration." An inquiry was then 
 made by the monk after the health of 
 their protegee ; and on hearing from 
 the countess that Eleanor, although far 
 from being recovered, was yet more 
 composed and easy in her mind, Lo- 
 dovico again took his departure for the 
 monastery. 
 
 To account for the unpleasant recep- 
 tion he had met with from Montauban^ 
 it will be necessary to relate some past 
 
 vol. i. ii events 
 
146 ANSELMO. 
 
 events which had taken place at the 
 castle, during the former visit of Albert 
 to Valleroy. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
ANSELMO. 147 
 
 CHAP. IX. 
 
 Ut vidi ! ut peri ! ut me malus abstulit aror. Virgil, 
 
 How have I yielded to the dear delusion ! 
 I saw, and seeing, was undone for ever. 
 
 Nought under heaven so strongly doth allure 
 The sense of man, and all his mind possess, 
 As beauty's lovely bait; that doth procure 
 Great warriors of their rigour to repress, 
 And mighty hands forget their manliness, 
 Drawn with the power of an heart-robbing eye, 
 And wrapt in fetters of golden tress, 
 That can with melting pleasures mollify 
 Their harden' d hearts, inur'd to blood and cruelty. 
 
 Spencer, 
 
 At the celebration of a yearly festival 
 
 of the sanctuary of Santa Maria, the 
 
 h 2 grates 
 
148 ANSELMO. 
 
 grates were thrown open for the admit- 
 tance of strangers. Our young soldier 
 having therefore expressed a wish to 
 be a spectator of the solemn ceremony 
 of the high mass, St. Orville, who was 
 likewise a visitor at the castle, readily 
 consented to accompany him. 
 
 On their entrance into the chapel, the 
 vaulted roofs were re-echoing the sublime 
 devotional strain " Del Festivo d' Dio," 
 then performing, replete with heavenly 
 harmony, by the holy sisterhood. The 
 great altar, shaded by curtains of silver 
 tissue, decorated with wreaths of flowers, 
 and surrounded with resplendent tapers, 
 fumed delicious odours from its burning 
 incense.; the marble walls, beautifully 
 ornamented with Mosaic mouldings, 
 were divided by palisades of massive sil- 
 ver, adorned with the finest tapestry, and 
 tastefully embellished with paintings of 
 the most celebrated Italian masters. The 
 gothic windows were likewise hung with 
 drapery of silver tissue, and the chande- 
 liers 
 
liers and censers of gold, ornamented 
 with the most precious stones, and in- 
 termingled with silver lamps, reflected 
 a dazzling, inexpressible lustre through- 
 out the whole of this ancient and noble 
 edifice. 
 
 To the mind of Albert de Montanban 
 it afforded the most exalted pleasure ; 
 indeed, the witnessing of such a solem- 
 nity cannot fail 01 inspiring every be- 
 holder with the noblest feeling of the 
 heart — gratitude towards his God. On 
 every countenance sat the shadow of the 
 ^Divinity, with benignant influence on 
 all, save one solitary monk, who, as he 
 kept leaning against an adjoining pillar, 
 looked the image of Despair. To him, 
 indeed, the soothing power of religious 
 rites, and consolation of devotion, ap- 
 peared wholly to have lost their charms, 
 nor, for an instant, was it able to sur- 
 mount the melancholy gloom which 
 hung over his brow. The majestic 
 figure of the man, and the singularity of 
 n 3 his 
 
*50 ANSELMO. 
 
 his appearance/ soon arrested the atten- 
 tion of Montatiban and his uncle. " Do 
 you not observe/' said Albert, " that 
 poor monk by yon pillar ? he seems 
 strangely affected. On whom are his 
 eyes fixed with such mournful aspect ?" 
 ~ ff See you not/' replied his relation, 
 ,f that lady seated near the great altar, 
 dressed in white, unveiled, and attended 
 by one of the noviciates, who is now 
 addressing herself to her ?"~ tf I do, sir/' 
 answered Montauban, * f and think her an 
 angel ; I never saw a more seraphic, a 
 more angelic countenance. "— " Well, 
 then/' continued St. Orville, (( to her 
 are they directed, whose beauty, I think 
 with you, certainly surpasses any of mor- 
 tal mould." 
 
 Before the conclusion of the service, 
 the object of their admiration, with her 
 companion, prepared to leave the cha- 
 pel. Montauban was in an agony ; one 
 moment, thought he, and she will be 
 lost to my sight for ever. He sprung 
 
 from 
 
ANSELMO. i51 
 
 from his seat and followed her. As they 
 gained the door which led into the inte- 
 rior of the monastery, from the young 
 lady's alarm on observing she was pur- 
 sued by a stranger, she let fall her cru- 
 cifix. Albert instantly caught up the 
 prize, pressed it to his bosom, and kneel- 
 ing, restored the precious relic to the 
 beautiful noviciate. With a sweet smile, 
 she was going to acknowledge her thanks 
 for his gallantry, when the monk whom 
 Albert had before noticed rushed to- 
 wards him, and snatching hold of the 
 Land of the lady, instantly disappeared 
 with her. The iron door then closed 
 with violence, to seclude from his sight 
 for ever, as he supposed, the enchanting 
 vestal. 
 
 The impetuous youth being highly 
 incensed at the intrusion, and the indig- 
 nity he had received from the holy fa- 
 ther, began therefore to breathe forth 
 knprecations against him of the most 
 sacrilegious nature ; and concluding, from 
 h 4 the 
 
ANSELMO* 
 
 \he monk's gaining admittance into tha 
 convent, that he was a confessor, he 
 loudly condemned the whole commu- 
 nity. After some time passed in this 
 useless indulgence of his rage, and con- 
 vinced that no hope remained of again 
 beholding the object of his admiration* 
 Albert endeavoured to retrace his steps 
 into the choir of the chapel, to rejoin 
 his uncle. By the light of a single lamp, 
 Whtdl hung over the figure *>£ a saint, 
 and kept glimmering at a dfettfidtj he 
 pursued his way along one of the aisles, 
 at the same time remarking with asto- 
 nishment the sudden gloom with which 
 the place was enveloped, when it had 
 recently presented so splendid an ap- 
 pearance. Not a human creature was to 
 be seen, nor a single footstep to be 
 heard. The farther he advanced the 
 more dismal and forlorn did every sur- 
 rounding object appear. Albert then 
 began to think, and not before, of the 
 very unpleasant, the dangerous situation, 
 
 into 
 
ANSELMO. 153 
 
 into which, from his imprudence, he had 
 brought himself, for it was evident, 
 that during his pursuit after the holy- 
 sister and her young companion, the 
 chapel had been cleared of its votaries, 
 and the doors closed. 
 
 Montauban then reflected on the great 
 uneasiness his flight must have occasion- 
 ed his uncle, and the anxiety his friends 
 would entertain for his safety; well 
 knowing, that if he^ was found in the 
 sanctuary by any of the conventuals, 
 now the service was concluded, his life 
 would be the sacrifice. Certain danger 
 will intimidate the most courageous 
 heart. Albert felt ashamed of his fears, 
 yet could not conquer them. On turning 
 through one of the arches, he was left in 
 total darkness. Montauban then thought 
 it best to return and take the lamp, the 
 light of which might perhaps discover 
 some secret door that would extricate 
 him out of the chapel. 
 
 In hollow murmurs, the wind resouncl- 
 h 5 ed 
 
154 - ANSELMO. 
 
 ed through the long aisles and deadly 
 vaults of the sanctuary : the faint rays 
 of the moon, which began to be dis- 
 cernible from its gothic windows, only 
 tended, however, to add fresh horrors to 
 the scene. Funereal implements, mo- 
 numents of some of the departed sister- 
 hood of Santa Maria, and the unwieldy 
 figures of the saints, which were placed 
 in niches along the aisles, were the only 
 objects to be perceived by him. In vain 
 did he endeavour to approach the lamp ; 
 it was not again to be found ; and ob- 
 serving, likewise, that the farther he ad- 
 vanced in search of it, the more gloomy, 
 if possible, did every thing appear, Al- 
 bert determined quietly to await the 
 evil he could not avoid. He sat down 
 on a projection of one of the columns 
 and fixing his eyes on a distant window, 
 through which the moon now darted her 
 rays with stronger lights and increasing 
 splendour, began to invoke every good 
 spirit to bless him once again with the 
 
 sight 
 
ANSELMO. 
 
 155 
 
 sight of the lady, who had so fascinated 
 his senses that he imagined he could en- 
 dure even the greatest torments with 
 composure, and with rapture, if the re- 
 ward would only be one look of pity 
 from the woman he loved. 
 
 The bell of the convent now struck 
 the midnight hour: shortly after, to the 
 astonishment of Montauban, he saw the 
 light which had before so miraculously 
 eluded him ; no longer, however, sta- 
 tionary, for it began to advance slowly 
 towards that part of the sanctuary in 
 which he was seated. Alarmed at this 
 circumstance, Albert instantly arose, 
 and with faltering step, receded to some 
 distance, which enabled him to follow 
 the lamp without danger of discovery. 
 On turning through one of the arches, 
 the light, however, passed him with great 
 quickness, but not before he had suf- 
 ficient time to recognize, in the person 
 who held it, the same monk who had 
 attracted his attention in the chapel dur- 
 ,h 6 ing 
 
156 ANSELMO. 
 
 ing service, and who had so forcibly in- 
 terrupted his intercourse with the no- 
 viciate of Santa Maria. 
 
 The third appearance of this man, at 
 such an hour, and near the same spot 
 in which he had at first beheld him, 
 struck Albert with the conviction, that 
 the monk likewise had felt the power of 
 her charms, and from being actuated by 
 jealousy, was then come to satiate his 
 revenge by assassination. Contending 
 emotions agitated the breast of the 
 youth, at the idea of falling by the hand 
 of a single ruffian, with whom, had Al- 
 bert been armed, by .any means of de- 
 fence, he would, in such a contest, have 
 been more than equal, in point of va- 
 lour, strength, and skill. 
 
 At one moment he determined to 
 disclose himself, by mentioning his name 
 and family, in ihe hope of intimidating 
 the confessor, by daring him to the atro- 
 cious deed; at another, by some plau- 
 sible story of distress, and grief at so 
 
 unjust 
 
ANSELMO. 157 
 
 unjust a confinement, to move his com- 
 passion. Whilst Albert was revolving 
 these points severally in his mind, the 
 object of his alarm continued to move 
 with much rapidity, and, on advancing 
 towards an iron grate at the end of one 
 of the cloisters, he observed him kneel 
 on approaching the image of a saint, 
 and on rising, to take from behind the 
 figure a key, with which he opened the 
 grate. Montauban drew nearer, suppo- 
 sing that it was a subterraneous passage 
 which led into the mountains; but in 
 that he was disappointed ; the iron door, 
 creeking on its hinges, an ^immense 
 weight, closed with violence; the monk 
 then descended a few steps, and, by the 
 ray of light which fell from the lamp, 
 Albert discovered it to be a cemetery. 
 Every hope then vanished of effecting 
 his escape: the confessor, on entering 
 into that place of death, disappeared in 
 an instant, and again was Montauban 
 left in total darkness. 
 
 No 
 
158 ANSELMO. 
 
 No gleam of moonshine then broke 
 through the dismal structure to guide 
 the wanderer to a place of repose; the 
 wind, blustering through the antique 
 windows, with mournful sound echoed 
 along the cloisters. At intervals, groans 
 were distinctly heard, and which seemed 
 to issue from the cemetery. In an agony 
 of despair, Albert then threw himself on 
 the pavement; in that distressful situa- 
 tion, however, no useless repining, or 
 violent expressions of anger, escaped 
 his lips; and a heavy and unconquerable 
 stupor, stealing by degrees over his sen- 
 ses, soon obliterated every idea of fear, 
 by forgetfulness. 
 
 The well-known, ever-to-be-remem- 
 bered maxim, which should animate 
 every human breast, even in the most 
 afflicting circumstances — " Rest on hope," 
 was truly, was fully exemplified, and that 
 in the fate of Albert de Montauban : he 
 who on lying down on the cold stones, 
 in momentary expectation of feeling 
 
 the 
 
ANSELMO. 159 
 
 the dagger of a secret assassin, on 
 recovering his benumbed faculties, 
 found himself in an elegant apartment, 
 reclining on a couch, and close by his 
 side, looking at him with the most inef- 
 fable tenderness, his mother and uncle, 
 the countess Anselmo and her brother, 
 St. Orville. This agreeable and unex- 
 pected change was hailed by the young 
 man with every expression of joy, and 
 great was his curiosity to learn by what 
 fortunate occurrence he had been ex- 
 tricated from his perilous situation in 
 the chapel. St. Orville readily complied 
 with that wish, by acquainting Albert of 
 his unsuccessful search, before he had 
 ventured to return to the castle with the 
 information of his flight from the sanc- 
 tuary. Count Anselmo had thought it 
 not improbable that, actuated by a de- 
 sire of viewing the whole of the edifice, 
 he might be in confinement there ; and 
 pointing out the danger of any person 
 being found in the chapel after high mass 
 
 was 
 
160 ANSELMO. 
 
 was concluded, had immediately deter- 
 mined them to depart for the monastery; 
 and that on the arrival of the countess 
 and himself at Santa Maria, by sending 
 in their names to the superior, and the 
 object of their mission, every polite ac- 
 commodation was offered them, with an 
 order from the abbess for her attendants 
 to explore the sanctuary ; which being 
 complied with directly, they had found 
 him in the melancholy state before de- 
 scribed, and with their assistance he had 
 had been brought into that apartment. 
 After the conclusion of signior Orville's 
 recital, so<ne time yet elapsed ere they 
 were enabled to convey Albert to Valle- 
 roy ; feigning to be extremely indis- 
 posed, in hopes he should again be blest 
 with a sight of the beautiful noviciate 
 with whom be was already so deeply 
 enamoured, his eyes were constantly 
 turned towards the grate, in expecta- 
 tion of seeing her pass. The matin ser- 
 vice being concluded, the nuns were 
 
 returning 
 
AN5ELM0, 101 
 
 returning each to their cells; with the 
 utmost attention, Montauban viewed 
 them as they glided by, but not one an- 
 swered the least in description to her he 
 so eagerly sought for. Disappointed, 
 therefore, in that hope, he almost ex- 
 claimed aloud—" Visionary idea ! pre- 
 sumptuous mortal ! to expect on earth 
 nn angel I" Those sentences were not 
 lost to the ear of his uncle, although they 
 were to Mi mother, the tounte-s being 
 then in conversation with the superior 
 of the convent. With much significance 
 of look and manner, Orvill^ said to his 
 nephew, " I do not think the air of this 
 place agrees with you ; I therefore ad- 
 vise a speedy return to Valieroy ;" which 
 then obliged Montauban to accede to 
 the proposition. 
 
 The midnight adventure, and confine- 
 ment of Albert in the sanctuary of San- 
 ta Maria, became a subject of much con- 
 jecture to the 'count Anselmo ; the eva- 
 sive and contradictory answers of the 
 
 youth, 
 
162 ANSELMO, 
 
 youth, whenever questioned by him aff 
 to the motive of such temerity, created 
 likewise his severe displeasure. Montau^ 
 ban perceived the alteration of the 
 count's behaviour towards him, and 
 therefore was the more anxious to learn- 
 the name and family of the fair incog- 
 nito of the monastery, too plainly fore- 
 seeing he should not long be permitted 
 to remain at the castle of Valleroy. Con- 
 tinued perseverance on the part of Al- 
 bert, aided likewise by his faithful servant 
 Lupino, soon crowned his wishes with 
 success — her name Eleanor, and the 
 adopted daughter of Anselmo. This 
 latter intelligence, however, greatly de- 
 pressed and agitated Montauban, being 
 well assured, from the marked indiffe- 
 rence, and anxiety of the count for him 
 to enter into a military life, that his at- 
 tachment for her was known to Ansel- 
 mo, and disapproved of. This unplea- 
 sant reflection could not, however, pre- 
 vent the youth from continually direct- 
 ing 
 
ANSELMO. 1$3 
 
 ing his steps towards the convent, and 
 contriving, by various devices, to obtain 
 the notice of Eleanor, by whom Al- 
 bert soon flattered himself he was regard- 
 ed with no small degree of partiality. 
 
 On an evening, he would sometimes 
 repair to the wails of Santa Maria, dis- 
 guised as a shepherd, and with an oaten 
 reed begin playing the most elevated and 
 enchanting strains of the pastoral muse. 
 At other times, he would exchange 
 that simple dress for the more secure 
 one of a female pilgrim, by which he 
 at last enjoyed the pleasure of convers- 
 ing with her at the convent grate. Mo- 
 mentary, however, was that indulgence. 
 Albert, fancying this religious costume 
 would prevent suspicion, and therefore 
 escape all observation, had, on the third 
 morning of his admission to the monas- 
 tery, persuaded the timid Eleanor to allow 
 him to present to her, and tie round her 
 neck, a ribbon, from which was suspend- 
 ed a golden heart, a token of his fidelity; 
 
 at 
 
M8 ANSELMO, 
 
 at that instant, the same monk whom 
 Albert had seen on the night of his con- 
 finement in the sanctuary, passed them, 
 and hastily retired into the convent. 
 Montauban, with much agitation, in- 
 quired of Eleanor what situation he held 
 there ? and on being informed bv the 
 lovely orphan that he was their confes- 
 sor, exclaimed, with energy, " Beware 
 ©f him ! I know the man !"— * K< Not ano- 
 ther word," hht- softly replied, * we are 
 observed ; ,J and then speaking aloud, 
 said, i( May Heaven guard you, gentle 
 pilgrim! in my orisons you shall be 
 remembered." Albert pressed to his 
 lips the lovely hand of the noviciate in 
 silent gratitude. Words would have 
 been superfluous, his looks sufficiently 
 expressed the reverence, the adoration 
 of Montauban, for the arbitress of his 
 fate. Eleanor sighed once more an 
 adieu, which was responsively echoed 
 in the heart of her lover ; who then sor- 
 rowfully retraced his steps to a neigh- 
 bouring 
 
ANSELMO. 165 
 
 boy-ring cottage, where he again assumed 
 his proper dress. The owners of it, an 
 elderly woman and her daughter, (and 
 the same before mentioned,) being en- 
 tirely in the interest of the youth, afford- 
 ed him every consolation. Florisee, the 
 younger, who was a vender of fruit to 
 the convent, likewise assured Montau* 
 ban that she could obtain daily intelli- 
 gence of the signora, being intimately 
 acquainted with the Beguines of Santa 
 Maria, ( an inferior order of the conven- 
 tual,) and that he might depend on her 
 for secresy. 
 
 On Albert's regaining the castle, he was 
 met by the count Anselmo, who congra- 
 tulated him on his appointment as lieu- 
 tenant to one of the principal regiments 
 of the Piedmontese troops; the com- 
 mission had arrived that morning at Val- 
 leroy, signed by the duke of Savoy, with 
 an order for Montauban to join the army 
 •without delay, the service of the state 
 requiring every possible exertion to 
 
 renew 
 
166 ANSELMO. 
 
 renew and preserve its wonted splendour. 
 This command from his sovereign he 
 well knew must be immediately com- 
 plied with; Albert, therefore, on retir- 
 ing to his chamber, addressed the follow- 
 ing letter to Eleanor, as he did not 
 think it prudent to appear so soon again 
 at the monastery. 
 
 " MY BELOVED ELEANOR, 
 
 " The duty I owe to my coun- 
 try, revered Italia ! bids me hasten to 
 rescue it from the threatened grasp of a 
 lawless invader; yet, although honour is 
 the breastplate of a soldier, love is his 
 protecting shield ; deprived of that 
 soul-inspiring sentiment, soon, alas ! 
 would the laurel fade and wither on the 
 hero's brow. Listen, then, oh, listen 
 with attention, to what my fond heart 
 dictates for your welfare. The pen 
 trembles in my hand; tears of anguish 
 
 fill 
 
ANSELMO. 167 
 
 ■fill my eyes at the thought of absence, 
 and pronouncing farewell to all my che- 
 rished hopes ; those hopes, which, I now 
 confess, sought to enslave the mind, and 
 ungenerously draw forth, from the lips 
 of Eleanor, avow, which might embitter 
 all her future days. Yet, amidst all the 
 toils, all the hardships, to which I may 
 be exposed, how cheerfully would they be 
 endured, if sometimes I could receive 
 the pleasing assurance that I was not 
 quite forgotten by her whom my soul 
 adores ! On the return of every eve, 
 when religion's hallowed rites call you 
 forth to the sacred altar, will Montauban, 
 in idea, be with his Eleanor, will dedi- 
 cate it to pray for her felicity. Oh, then, 
 let the warning voice of sincere affec- 
 tion entreat, conjure you, to be on your 
 guard against pretended friendship— 
 the name without the substance ; it is 
 of all evils the most afflicting in its con- 
 sequences. The guileless heart, open, 
 generous, and unsuspecting, is too often 
 
 found 
 
168 ANSELMO. 
 
 found to be the prey of duplicity. Mo- 
 nastic seclusion is not always a protec- 
 tion to youth and beauty, for vice is the 
 more dangerous when concealed under 
 the specious garb of virtue. 
 
 " To-morrow I depart from Yalleroy ; 
 deny me not then, beloved Eleanor, the 
 melancholy satisfaction of once again 
 seeing you, and receiving from you the 
 fiat of my fate — the happiness, or future 
 misery, of 
 
 " Albert de Montauban." 
 
 This letter had a safe conductor in 
 the young Florisee, who, concealing it 
 amidst the flowers of an elegant bou- 
 quet, presented it to her at the convent 
 grate; and although Albert had no per- 
 mission of the count Anselmo to renew 
 his visit at the castle, he had one from 
 his adopted daughter to visit Santa Ma- 
 ria, at some future period ; accompanied 
 with every testimony of her regard and 
 
 veneration 
 
AXSELMO. 169 
 
 veneration for the gallant soldier. Fears 
 for the personal safety of Albert induced 
 Eleanor, at that time, to forego the plea- 
 sure of another interview with her lover, 
 some suspicion having arisen amongst the 
 conventuals respecting his assumed dis- 
 guise. Montauban, who had therefore 
 been anxiously waiting at the cottage of 
 old Florisee for the return of her daugh- 
 ter from the monastery, received this 
 latter intelligence with great despon- 
 dency ; yet, as it conveyed to him the 
 hope of meeting with his Eleanor at 
 some distant period, her injunction was 
 obeyed. The few lines which she had 
 contrived to write with her pencil, and 
 to send back by Florisee, containing 
 fervent wishes for his happiness, and 
 thanks for the very flattering deference 
 he had expressed for her, were now then 
 carefully folded up by Montauban, who, 
 on concealing it in his bosom, exclaimed, 
 " Live for ever here !° 
 
 Albert, on recompensing the female 
 vol. i. i cottagem 
 
170 ANSELMOU 
 
 cottagers for their services, charged them 
 to be watchful and observant of every 
 incident that might take place at the 
 convent during his absence; which they 
 having faithfully promised to attend to, 
 he took his departure, his mind wholly 
 occupied with the image of the fascinat- 
 ing Eleanor, on the succeeding morning, 
 for Turin; mentally rehearsing to him- 
 self, as he proceeded on his tedious jour- 
 ney to the capital — " Montauban ! prove 
 yourself worthy of your country, and 
 the high distinction you have acquired 
 from the object of your choice; deserve 
 the prize before you attempt to obtain 
 it !" All eager then for glory, well 
 might the youth have exclaimed, (with 
 some slight difference,) in the words of 
 the noble Hector — 
 
 U If I should perish, let me perish great, 
 
 And in a mighty deed expire ; 
 
 Let future ages hear it, and admire." 
 
 CHAP 
 
AKSELMO. 171 
 
 CHAP. X. 
 
 The mountain thunders, and its sturdy sons 
 Stoop to the bottom of the rocks they shade. 
 Lone on the midnight steep, and all aghast, 
 The dark wayfaring stranger breathless toils, 
 And, often falling, climbs against the blast. 
 Low waves the rooted forest, vex'd ; and shedi 
 What of its ternish'd honours yet remain— 
 Dash'd down and scatter'd by the tearing winds' 
 Assiduous fury, its gigantic limbs. 
 Thus struggling through the dissipated grove, 
 The whirling tempest ra\ os along the plain, 
 And on the cottage thatchVl, or lordly roof, 
 Keen fast'ning, shakes them to the solid b 
 
 Thomson, 
 
 The following winter, during a cessation 
 
 of hostilities with the enemy, Montau- 
 
 i 2 bau 
 
172 ANSELMO. 
 
 ban procured a short leave of absence 
 from his royal commander. With the 
 greatest speed he set off for Tuscany, to 
 visit the countess Anselmo, from whom, 
 for reasons before stated, he had not re- 
 ceived any information. The fate of 
 Eleanor pressed likewise on his mind, 
 with melancholy forebodings of ill for- 
 tune, not having received any account 
 from her likewise since he had left the 
 Apennines. 
 
 On the journey, Albert met by acci- 
 dent with St. Orville, who was travelling 
 from Genoa to Placenza, for the pur- 
 pose of renewing an intimacy with the 
 daughter of a Venetian senator, and to 
 obtain consent of the father for their 
 union. Monfauban, on embracing his 
 uncle, inquired, with much agitation, 
 after his mother. St. Orville instantly 
 calmed his fears on that account, by say- 
 ing he had received a letter from the 
 countess, announcing she was in health, 
 but unhappy, at not having heard from 
 
 her 
 
ANSELMO. 173 
 
 her son, except once, since his depar- 
 ture. Albert was going to reply, but 
 his uncle, anticipating his answer, said — > 
 " I knew, and was perfectly convinced, 
 that you would never fail in so indispen- 
 sible a duty. Be on your guard ; it is 
 needless foY me to acquaint you that 
 Anselmo is not your friend : the adven- 
 ture at the monastery of Santa Maria, 
 and your confinement there, has excited 
 his suspicion — his alarm, for in that holy 
 sanctuary, you well know, is secluded 
 his beauteous protegee, signora Eleanor, 
 Strange reports have been circulated at 
 the castle respecting her birth, and near 
 relationship to the count/' St. Orville, 
 perceiving his nephew change colour at 
 this intelligence, did not continue the 
 subject further than entreating Albert 
 not to appear at Valleroy, without an 
 invitation from Anselmo, and likewise 
 to banish from his mind, if he valued his 
 mother's happiness, all recollection of 
 the noviciate of Santa Maria, as the least 
 i 3 indulgence 
 
174 ANSELMO. 
 
 indulgence of such an attachment would 
 produce an inevitable train of evils, both 
 on himself and family. The first part of 
 this advice was agreed to by the young 
 soldier with but slight opposition ; the 
 latter met with a decided negative. 
 Montauban had pledged his faith to 
 Eleanor, and that consideration, to a 
 man of his honour, was as binding as if 
 it had been pronounced before a host 
 of witnesses. In an impressive manner, 
 h'e communicated the same to his uncle,/ 
 and concluded by saying with much so- 
 lemnity, " You perceive, therefore, ho- 
 noured sir, the destiny of Albert is irre- 
 vocably fixed, beyond the power of 
 change, in this world; if for misery, I 
 ever trust that I shall submit without 
 repining at the decree of Heaven !" — 
 " Rash youth V exclaimed St. Chville, 
 " the vow you have made must be bro- 
 ken ;" and continued impetuously, "Who 
 were the parents of Eleanor?" — "I 
 know not." — " Then farewell,'* replied 
 
 St. 0rvill4 
 
ANSELMO. 175 
 
 St. Orville, ts I leave you to your fate !" 
 and spurring his horse/ rode off with in- 
 credible swiftness, leaving the astonished 
 Montauban fixed to the spot like a sta- 
 tue. Several minutes elapsed before he 
 could in the least reflect on the words he 
 had uttered, to cause such great displea- 
 sure from his uncle; and when reason 
 did return, and represent to him the 
 occasion of it, the plighted word he had 
 given of eternal fidelity to the orphan, 
 surmounted, and rendered impracticable, 
 every idea of conquering the fatal pas- 
 sion he had conceived for her, 
 
 With very different sensations, how- 
 ever, did Albert now pursue his journey 
 to what he had done previous to the un- 
 expected interview with his uncle.e The 
 peremptory command of St. Orville for 
 him not to appear at the castle, (although 
 his mother was suffering the utmost un- 
 easiness, from his long absence and sup- 
 posed indifference Towards her,) was tru- 
 ly distressing. The intelligence of the 
 1 4 count'* 
 
J 76 AXSELMO. 
 
 count's secret enmity, and the motive that 
 actuated such resentment, from which 
 he was denied even the consolation of 
 writing to his beloved parent, likewise 
 caused Montauban the severest anguish. 
 
 As ascending the lofty and cheerless 
 mountains of the Apennines, often did 
 he linger, and cast a sorrowing look on- 
 the rich track of country that lay beneath- 
 his feet — valleys clothed with ever-smil- 
 ing verdure ; flocks and herds peacefully 1 
 ranging plains, which were profusely 
 adorned with all the charms of pastoral 
 landscape, to afford comfort and delight 
 to its inhabitants. Reflecting; on the con- 
 trast of the scene he had quitted to that 
 which he was then immerging into — a 
 dreary, wild, and barren region, pierced 
 by the winds of every quarter, offering no 
 shelter, no equivalent, to compensate in 
 the least for so disagreeable a change, Al- 
 bert involuntarily sighed ; he fancied it re- 
 presented his own untoward destiny. To 
 divert, however, his mind from continu- 
 ally 
 
ANSELMO. 177 
 
 ailv presaging misfortune, he would 
 sometimes descry, and point out to his 
 servant, as they proceeded, little fertile 
 spots, even amidst these desolate moun- 
 tains, covered with vines, and enamelled 
 with flowers, and other rare productions 
 of nature : he would then exclaim ener- 
 getically — " Such is the life of man ! to 
 whom pleasures are; but in perspective, 
 real sorrow in the ground-work." To- 
 wards evening they gained the summit of 
 the Apennines, and could discern, al- 
 though as yet but a speck in the horizon, 
 the sun's last rays gilding the ancient- 
 structure of Santa Maria. All care and 
 despondence vanished from the counte- 
 nance of Montauban at the sight of a 
 place in which was enclosed his heart's 
 dearest treasure: already, in idea, had 
 he clasped the fond maid to his bosom ; 
 and already, at her feet, again breathed 
 forth vows of love and constancy, to 
 the fascinating, and, to his imagination 
 peerless Eleanor. 
 
 i 5 Albert, 
 
178 ANSELMO. 
 
 Albert, knowing it was not possible to 
 obtain admission to the convent grate 
 at so late an hour, therefore directed his 
 steps to the cottage of Florisee, where it 
 was his intention to remain during 
 the night. On entering the little dwel- 
 ling, the old woman, who immediately 
 recognized Montauba-n and his attendant, 
 received them with the greatest joy 9 9 
 but on observing a visible alteration 
 for the worse in the health of her 
 benefactor, she mournfully exclaimed 
 — "Ah! my good lord, I am afraid 
 you grieve for the loss of signora Elea- 
 nor P*- — *• What, is she dead ?" reiterated 
 the almost-frantic lover. — " Heaven for- 
 bid, my lord !" replied Florisee ; " our 
 amiable lady was alive and well yester- 
 day se'nnight ; 1 only meant to say that 
 she has left the convent, and gone to 
 the castle of Rodolphus " Distracting 
 doubts now tormented Albert at this 
 unwelcome intelligence. It was not easy 
 to divine the motive which could have 
 
 induced 
 
 § 
 
i ANSELHO. 179 
 
 induced count Anselmo to confide her 
 to the care of his friend, in prefer- 
 ence to a monastery ; yet, when he 
 reflected that at the period of obtain- 
 ing leave of absence from his regiment, 
 the son of Rodolphus had procured the 
 same, jealousy, at that instant, represent- 
 ed, that for Ernestine, who artfully must 
 have contrived to gain the affections of 
 Eleanor, he was discarded ; and that her 
 visit to the castle was only a prelude to 
 becoming its future mistress. 
 
 This conviction, of which no doubt 
 he thought could be entertained, racked 
 his brain with madness; without, there- 
 fore, debating in the least what steps 
 would be most proper to pursue, Albert 
 remounted his horse, determining to go 
 in quest of Eleanor, at the same time 
 charging his servant to remain at the 
 cottage till morning, then to commence 
 his journey for Grosseto, and there to 
 await his orders. Heedless of danger, 
 he instantly set off, and travelled through 
 i () the 
 
180 ANSELMO. 
 
 the night, along roads hardly pressed 
 even by the foot of a passenger, every 
 moment expecting to be precipitated 
 from the rugged rocks into the gulphs 
 which continually presented themselves 
 to his sight. 
 
 At the approach of dawn, Albert was 
 so wearied and faint, for want of rest 
 and nourishment, that he could proceed 
 no farther: his horse^ too, which he had 
 been obliged to lead for several miles, 
 fell down on the road almost lifeless. 
 
 Montauban, though but il! able to 
 exert himself, yet endeavoured to re- 
 lieve the poor animal, by procuring 
 some herbs and grass, which again en- 
 abled the faithful creature to follow his 
 master. On observing some peasants at 
 work in an adjoining vineyard, Albert 
 hastened towards them, and requested 
 their assistance. One of the vintagers, 
 with much humanity, tendered his ser- 
 vices, and conducted the young soldier 
 to his dwelling, situated on the side of 
 
 the 
 
ANSELMO. 18"! 
 
 the mountain : here he was regaled with 
 the best the cottage could afford, and 
 accommodated with a bed. In a few 
 hours he arose from his humble couch, 
 greatly refreshed ; and as his horse had 
 been likewise' well taken care of, was 
 extremely anxious to recommence his 
 journey to Oldenz-o. Sensibly impressed 
 with the kindness he had received from 
 the mountaineer, Albert returned a 
 grateful acknowledgement ; and on re- 
 marking how much his lot was to be 
 envied, which seemed to be that of true 
 content, so difficult to be met with in 
 the busy scenes of life, the hardy vete- 
 ran exclaimed — " I do indeed, my 
 lord, enjoy that blessing ; my wishes are 
 ever moderate, therefore easily attain- 
 able. I have known better days in point 
 of fortune, but none so happy as I now 
 enjoy. In early life I married the wo- 
 man I loved. Ninetta, as well as myself, 
 saw enough of the world and its vicissi- 
 tudes to prevent regret at our leaving 
 
 it. 
 
189 ANSELMO, 
 
 it. Alas \ ,y continued the old man, " if 
 at any time we are dull and out of 
 spirits., it is with the thoughts of having 
 been deprived by death of our best 
 friends. Strange events take place some- 
 times with surprising quickness; so was 
 it with us, for in one single hour, from 
 having a good house over our heads, 
 and a comfortable independence, we 
 were turned adrift, in a strange country, 
 without knowing one being that we 
 couldapply to for relief : after wander- 
 ing about, therefore, from place to 
 place, and procuring a scanty subsis- 
 tence for myself and wife, by working as 
 a gardener, Providence," repeated Zilio, 
 with pe^ u iar energy, "to make short 
 of my story, directed us to this spot; and 
 to that same old peasant whom you 
 applied to for assistance, we are indebt- 
 ed for our preservation : he procured 
 me the situation I now hold with, my 
 present master, signior Rodolphus." — • 
 " Rodolphus r" eagerly interrupted AI- 
 
 v bert; 
 
ANSELMO. 183 
 
 bert ; u do you mean Rodolphus of Of- 
 denzo f u — " Yes, my lord, he is my 
 master." And on inquiring how far 
 from thence to the castle? his informant 
 answered, " Within half a league/' With 
 apparent indifference, Montauban then 
 asked if the son of Rodolphus was at the 
 castle ? which was likewise replied to in 
 the affirmative, and that he might have 
 had the pleasure (Zilio supposing that 
 Albert was acquainted with him) of see- 
 ing the young signior, if a few minutes 
 sooner, he having but just before left the 
 vineyard. An interview, however, under 
 such circumstances, would have w T ounded 
 the pride of Montauban, who felt, there- 
 fore, extremely gratified to have escaped 
 so humiliating a rencounter. Yet, if the 
 foregoing intelligence excited surprise, 
 and inwardly agitated the lover, how 
 much the more was it when, during the 
 relation of the mountaineer, he learnt 
 that Ernestine was accompanied by 
 Count Anselmo ; and, on inquiring 'if 
 
 there 
 
1S4 ANSELMa. 
 
 there was any other visitants at the castle T 
 the answer obtained was in the negative ! 
 " Are you sure of that ?" said Albert. — 
 " Quite sure, my lord/' repeated Zilio^ 
 " for my wife daily attends at Oldenzo, 
 and if there had been any other visitor 
 besides the count, I should undoubtedly 
 have heard of it.' , 
 
 Montauban now deeply lamented the 
 precipitancy in which he had left Santa* 
 Maria, without further information than 
 that so hastily acquired from the old 
 cottager, whose loquacity, perhaps, 
 might have unthinkingly revealed his 
 attachment for Eleanor, and therefore 
 been the cause of her strict confinement 
 in the convent. To ascertain the truth 
 of which, however, no means presented 
 itself; his leave of absence being so 
 nearly expired, the only expedient he 
 thought at all practicable was, to return 
 without delay, by the same road, and on 
 meeting with his servant, to order him, 
 to remain for some days in the vicinity 
 
 cf 
 
ANSELMO. 185 
 
 of Santa Maria, in hopes of Lnpino's 
 learning the real abode of Eleanor, and, 
 if successful, to present her with a letter 
 which Albert previously had written 
 (expressing the fears he entertained of 
 being forgotten) for the lovely recluse, 
 before he commenced his journey ; then 
 having doubts on his mind whether he 
 should "be able to obtain a personal in- 
 terview. This point once determined 
 upon, Montauban lost no time to: carry 
 it into execution ; he generously re- 
 warded his host for the trouble he had 
 occasioned him, and again remounted 
 his horse, to traverse the dreary moun- 
 tains of the Apennines. 
 
 In a few hours after his departure, trve 
 far- extended prospect became on a sud- 
 den wrapt in gloom, quickly enveloping 
 every object with the hazy vapour, 
 The mind of Montauban had been so 
 occupied in devising plans for the fu- 
 ture, that the present was totally disre- 
 garded ; darkness increasing, and the 
 
 terrific 
 
336 ANSEO10. 
 
 terrific howling of the wolves, whicfy 
 under cover of the night, were begin- 
 ning to descend from the higher parts 
 of the mountains in search of prey, at 
 length aroused Albert from his reverie ; 
 he then found, to his great astonishment 
 that he was pursuing a differed 1 track to 
 that which he had taken on the preced- 
 ing day ; the road led into a vale, which, 
 with the torrents of melted snow from 
 the heights, and long channels of sand, 
 appeared like one continual sea ; and on 
 the other side, although at a greater 
 distance, the swelling surges of the Me- 
 diterranean beat against the rocks with 
 increasing fury. The wind became so 
 extremely boisterous, together with the 
 pelting of the rain, which soon began to 
 pour in torrents, the surrounding coun- 
 try now rendered any further progress 
 of descending the Apennines totally im- 
 practicable. Albert, therefore, with, 
 difficulty, re-ascended the mountain, and 
 for several hours wandered ^long its 
 
 barren 
 
ANSELMO. 187 
 
 barren wilds, without finding the least 
 shelter to protect him from the incle- 
 mency of the nifffrt. At length, how- 
 ever, he perceived a light, but which, 
 from its immense altitude, appeared at 
 first a constellation in the heavens; yet, 
 on drawing nearer to it, he had the satis- 
 faction to observe that the light pro- 
 ceeded from a beacon tower. 
 
 The track Montauban fortunately pur- 
 sued was the only one which led to it 
 with safety, and on turning suddenly a 
 point of the mountain, it brought him 
 close under the structure. To the left 
 of the tower stood a castle, which, al- 
 though it bore many marks of the ra- 
 vages of time, yet possessed sufficient 
 remains to indicate its former grandeur. 
 Albert truly rejoiced that he had at last 
 discovered a human habitation in this 
 desolate region, and continued his 
 course thither. On arriving at its massy- 
 gates, he knocked several times for ad- 
 mittance. The sound re-echoed -along 
 
 * * the 
 
188 ANSELMO. 
 
 the whole pile of the building, which- 
 seemed to pronounce its being quite 
 deserted. On repeating the knocks with 
 greater loudness, Montauban distinctly- 
 heard the unbarring of doors, and mo- 
 mentarily expected to see the gates 
 thrown open ; in that, however, he was 
 disappointed, for in a few minutes all 
 was again silent. Albert now concluded, 
 that fear overpowering, prevented its 
 possessors from exerting the rights of 
 hospitality, and that all hopes were at 
 an end of inducing them, therefore, to 
 compassionate the sufferings of the wan- 
 dering, despairing stranger. Albert, 
 therefore, remounted his horse, to tra- 
 verse again the trackless plains. The 
 dismal cry of a" cormorant, which at that 
 moment flew over the walls of the cas- 
 tle, followed directly by two others, 
 caught his attention. The night was not 
 so dark to prevent Montauban 's observ- 
 ing that they settled on a column of a 
 mouldering arch, near the eastern side 
 
AXSELMO. 189 
 
 ■«>f the building. The noise of the birds 
 effected what Albert had been unable to 
 accomplish ; a man with lights appeared 
 at one of the upper windows of the cas- 
 tle. Once again, therefore, he knocked 
 at the gates ; and then a voice, the sound 
 of which apparently coming in that di- 
 rection, vociferated — " Who's there ?'* 
 - — " An unfortunate stranger," replied 
 Montauban, " claims your humanity." 
 — <c What is it you want ? — answer me 
 quickly, or I shall be off again," de- 
 manded the voice. 
 
 " On my journey to Loretto," men- 
 tioning jany place that came first to his 
 recollection, " I have lost my way, and 
 being benighted, cannot resume the 
 ■right path without information. I like- 
 wise die for hunger and want of rest. 
 Oh, pity, then, my distress," continued 
 Albert, " and grant me a few hours shel- 
 ter from the storm." No answer was 
 returned to this petition, but shortly 
 after, the iron gates, creaking on their 
 
 hinges, 
 
190 ANSELMO. 
 
 hinges, an immense weight, began to 
 open, and the same man whom he had 
 observed at the window made his ap- 
 pearance. Perceiving by the dress and 
 manner of Albert that his credulity was 
 not imposed on, he accosted him with 
 — " You are welcome, sign i or, to come 
 in here for an hour or two, but no long- 
 er, or I should pay dearly. for my kind- 
 ness towards you." The porter having 
 then exacted a solemn promise of his 
 new guest to depart by the dawn of day, 
 he led his horse into the court-yard, and 
 after closing the gates with much cau- 
 tion, and securely fastening them, con- 
 ducted the young soldier into the in- 
 terior of the castle. As they passed 
 through the hall, which was supported 
 by several noble columns of marble, 
 Montauban remarked to his attendant 
 that it had the appearance of an armou- 
 ry, fire-arms being hung round the walls 
 in every direction. if Ah, signior," re- 
 plied the man, significantly winking at 
 
 Albert, 
 
ANSELMO. 191 
 
 Albert, '''there is indeed enough of them 
 to supply a whole regiment, but they 
 are a sort of playthings I have no fancy 
 for ; yet, if they could speak, I warrant 
 me they'd tell strange tales of their for- 
 mer masters. Come, come, now,'' con- 
 tinued the facetious porter, " sit you 
 down, my brave lad, whilst I go bring 
 some sticks to make a fire, for you seem 
 completely drenched with the rain, and 
 then I will tell you a good story. " Mont- 
 auban, therefore, (although not quite 
 at ease in his new habitation,) seated 
 himself by the dying embers of a wood 
 lire, at the extremity of the hall ; and be- 
 ing quite exhausted with fatigue and dis- 
 appointment, fell into a sound sleep. 
 
 In the meanwhile, the porter return- 
 ed ; and having industriously prepared a 
 supper of bread and fruit, trimmed the 
 lamp, and mended the fire, he awoke his 
 Jmngry guest, to partake of the fare pro- 
 vided for him, and to relate the account 
 of the castle. Albert, greatlv refreshed 
 
 by 
 
102 ANSELMO. 
 
 by the short repose he had indulged 
 himself with, began, therefore, to listen 
 attentively for the promised information. 
 The man had scarcely commenced ere 
 the alarm-bell sounded with tremendous 
 violence. " Is it so, my good fellow?'* 
 replied he ; and without uttering another 
 word, he ran across the hall, took down 
 a gun from one of the recesses, and al- 
 most flew up a winding staircase on the 
 eastern side of the hall, apparently in 
 the greatest affright and terror. This 
 strange and sudden disappearance of the 
 porter, without signifying in the least 
 his intention, caused much surprise to 
 Mp.ntau.ban, who now thought a retreat 
 from his present situation the most ad- 
 visable. That no time should be lost to 
 escape from the castle, which he then 
 concluded was a receptacle for robbers, 
 Albert took the lamp from the table, to 
 discover the bolts, and unlock the door 
 which led into the court-yard, A con- 
 fused noise was now heard in the upper 
 
 apartments 
 
ANSELMO. 193 
 
 apartments of the building ; Montauban, 
 therefore, expecting every moment to 
 be attacked by some of the banditti, and 
 observing a sword suspended over the 
 fireplace, armed himself with that wea- 
 pon, and then endeavoured to unfasten 
 the door. Before he could accomplish 
 his purpose, however, people with light- 
 ed torches were seen to descend the 
 winding staircase. Albert then extin- 
 guished the lamp, and resolutely awaited 
 their reproach. " One of them is here," 
 said a voice, which he well knew to 
 be that of the porter. — " Smooth-faced 
 villain V' ejaculated Montauban, tc I 
 dare you to the combat; come on, I am 
 prepared for your dastardly set." His 
 opponents, however, advanced but slow- 
 ly. " Come on, I say," he repeated 
 with fury, " and I will make mince-meat 
 of you !" A blaze of light now illumi- 
 nated the hall, and in an instant after- 
 wards, one of the men, distinguished 
 above the rest by his dignified appear- 
 vol. i. c ance 
 
19'1 ANSELMO. 
 
 ance and superior dress, rushed past 
 them, saw Albert, and being armed with 
 a loaded pistol, directed it at his breast 
 and fired. The ball, however, fortu- 
 nately missed Montauban, who then in- 
 stantaneously rushed at his antagonist, 
 and with the sword he had taken was just 
 going to return the vengeance of his 
 adversary, when the same man who had 
 admitted Albert into the castle arrested 
 his arm, and cried out — <f Hold, signior; 
 is it thus you repay my kindness towards 
 you, by attempting the life of my de- 
 fenceless master, signior Rodolphus ?" 
 The sword now fell from the nerveless 
 hand of Montauban, astonishment hav- 
 ing fettered every sense, and rendered 
 powerless the hitherto undaunted Albert. 
 Rodolphus perceiving his agitation, and 
 that he had surrendered himself at dis- 
 cretion, immediately ordered two of, the 
 servants to take their prisoner to the 
 north tower, and there confine him, un- 
 til they should receive his further orders 
 
 for 
 
ANSELMO. 195 
 
 for the punishment of the delinquent. 
 Montauban resolving, therefore, to suf- 
 fer every torture, rather than to disclose 
 himself to the haughty Rodolphus, was 
 then unresistingly led by the servile at- 
 tendants to his destined prison. 
 
 How unaccountable, how mysterious, 
 are the ways of Providence ! untoward 
 fate had now consigned Albert into the 
 power of a man, for whom, although 
 unknown to him, he entertained the ut- 
 most aversion, whom he so much dread-i 
 ed to meet, and whom he so much 
 wished to avoid, not merely from private 
 pique, or public report, which was by- 
 no means favourable to the character of 
 Rodolphus, but from the simple circum- 
 stance of his being the friend of count 
 Anselmo, whose consummate art, as he 
 imagined, had drawn his mother into an 
 alliance from which he foreboded she 
 would suffer years of misfortune. To be 
 thus thrown on the mercy of *his suppos- 
 ed enemies, to be dragged, perhaps, 
 k 3 into 
 
l&G ANSELMO, 
 
 into the presence of Anselmo, whom he 
 had learned from the vintager was then a 
 visitant in those domains, to undergo the 
 scrutiny and reprehension of the husband 
 ©f his mother, who might probably exer- 
 cise a parental authority, exacting from 
 him an implicit obedience to whatever he 
 chose imperiously to dictate, was distrac- 
 tion to the mind of the proud offspring of 
 the late general de Montauban. " Spirit 
 of my noble sire !" exclaimed Albert, at 
 the departure of his gaolers, who had 
 doubly locked and barred the entrance 
 of the prison chamber, to prevent his 
 escape- — " Spirit of my noble sire ! ok, 
 teach me to emulate thy transcendant 
 virtues ! ever guide my wandering steps 
 in the paths of honour, and undauntedly 
 will I brave every impending danger !" 
 — Cruel .remembrance then brought 
 forcibly to the mind of Montauban the 
 happy days of childhood, passed under 
 a paternal roof, when wearied with the 
 •toils of war, the general would, at even- 
 ing 
 
ANSELMO. I£7 
 
 ing hour, retire from the noise of a 
 camp, to seek repose and happiness in 
 the bosom of his family. Young as Al- 
 bert then was, yet well did he remem- 
 ber, and ever cherish, the fond endear- 
 ments he had received from his father; 
 who would repeat, whilst folding him in 
 his arms — " Happy Montauban, blest 
 with such a son, you have not a wish 
 ungratified !" That sentence now rushed 
 to his recollection, whilst mournfully he- 
 exclaimed — " Oh, beloved and ever-to- 
 be-lamented parent, how would your 
 proud heart swell with anger, could 
 you witness the indignity that son now 
 suffers — -that son who will rather die than 
 state his motive for seeking shelter in 
 so inhospitable a mansion V* The gal- 
 lant soldier wept to the memory of time 
 past. The impulse of paternal affection 
 in some degree subsided, Albert breath- 
 ed a sigh to Eleanor; then throwing him- 
 self on a couch, determined quietly to 
 await the return of morning, which he 
 k 3 thought 
 
'■J 98 ANSELMO. 
 
 thought must elucidate the mysterious 
 proceedings of Rodolphus, and procure 
 a release From this unjust confinement. 
 
 CHAIT. 
 
AN3ELMO. 199 
 
 CHAP. XI, 
 
 ^Tis liberty alone that gives the flower 
 Of fleeting life its lustre and perfume, 
 And \\€ are weeds without it. All constraint, 
 Except what wisdom lays on evil men> 
 Is evil ; hurts the faculties, impedes 
 Their progress in the road of science ; blinds 
 The eye of discovery, and begets, 
 In those that suffer it, a sordid mind. 
 
 COWPER, 
 
 At the dawn of day, Montauban arose 
 from his restless slumbers, to survey 
 more closely the apartment of his prison, 
 in hopes of discovering some means of 
 escaping from the power of Rodolphus, 
 The furniture of the room displayed 
 marks, of faded splendour; the gilded 
 k 4 roof, 
 
200 ANSELMO. 
 
 roof, black and gold velvet hangings, a 
 canopied couch, and a few moth-eaten 
 chairs and sofas, were now, however, its 
 principal ornaments. Looking through 
 the windows, which were secured by 
 heavy bars of iron, Albert observed, with 
 surprise, several men on guard along the 
 ramparts, which were so extensive as to 
 resemble the outworks of 3 citadel. 
 Groves of the towering pine and hardy 
 fir shaded the castle, but which, for the 
 greater part, appeared to be in ruins. 
 Beyond that, the eye was led to a track- 
 Jess scene of barren plains and rocks, 
 and bounded by mountains of snow, that 
 at length closed the cheerless prospect. 
 In vain did Albert try to discover the 
 path that so unfortunately led him to 
 this gloomy structure, from which he 
 had not only been prevented meeting 
 with his servant, but had likewise lost all 
 clue to guide him to the abode of Elea- 
 nor, concerning whom, and the younger 
 Rodolphus, Albert reflected on with the 
 
 most 
 
ANSELMO. 201 
 
 most tormenting jealousy, supposing 
 that Ernestine had purposely eluded her 
 from his sight for ever. 
 
 In an agony, therefore, of mind, 
 Montauban, for several hours, kept pa- 
 cing his chamber, in endeavouring to 
 find out some concealed pannel or door 
 to effect his escape ; none, however, 
 presented itself. On removing the ca- 
 nopied couch, fancying that an outlet 
 might be there, although extremely hea- 
 vy, yet, from its mouldering state, it 
 dropt instantly with great weight an the 
 floor, and an old framed picture, that 
 had been suspended behind it, likewise 
 fell with it, and was broken to pieces. 
 Montaubar. took up the painting, to ex- 
 amine it ; and clearing the canvas from 
 the dust, although much torn and muti- 
 lated, saw that it represented the scene 
 after a battle. A most prominent fea- 
 ture in the piece was that of a dying 
 warrior, supported by several officers, on 
 whose countenances grief was finely 
 k 5 portrayed* 
 
202 ANSELMO. 
 
 portrayed. The lighter sketches consist- 
 ed of their soldiers burying the dead, 
 and women wailing over the senseless 
 corpses of their husbands or friends, 
 whilst some more hardened than others 
 were employing themselves in carrying 
 off the spoil. 
 
 This painting so much arrested the at- 
 tention of Albert, that he did not hear the 
 unbarring of the door of his prison,' nor 
 even look up until it was opened, when 
 the first person that caught his eye, on 
 entering the chamber, was Ernestine Ro- 
 dolphus, followed by his father and his 
 servant Lupino. The joy of the poor 
 fellow at meeting with his master is not 
 easily to be expressed ; he clasped his 
 hands together, and falling on his knees, 
 returned thanks to Heaven for Montau- 
 ban's preservation. Surprise, however, 
 at these unexpected visitants, mingled 
 with the utmost dignity and indifference, 
 was apparent in the countenance of Al- 
 bert. The son of Rodolphus, as he ap- 
 proached 
 
ANSELMO. 203 
 
 proached him, bowed ; this from the 
 exasperated young soldier met a slight 
 return in silence, and instantly directed 
 his attention to the picture; whilst the 
 elder Rodolphus, to conceal the displea- 
 sure he felt, and mortification he expe- 
 rienced at the sangfroid of Albert, had 
 already left the tower. 
 
 Ernestine then, with seeming concern, 
 addressed Montauban to the following 
 effect : — " That his confinement (his 
 father not having the honour of being 
 personally known to him) had arisen 
 from the confusion and terror of the 
 domestics, supposing the castle was at- 
 tacked again by the banditti, who, for 
 some time past, had infested the domains 
 in hopes of plunder ; that Eris, the 
 porter, who had undertaken to afford 
 him shelter until the storm abated, on 
 hearing the alarm bell, imagined his cre- 
 dulity imposed on, and that he. had ad- 
 mitted a robber/' At that word Albert 
 started, and would have replied to the 
 k 6 insulting 
 
204 ANSELMO. 
 
 insulting epithet, bad not the young 
 Rodolphus continued with — " Pardon 
 me, Montauban, but you are too rash, 
 too much alive to your honour, and think 
 it wounded, when not an idea of the kind 
 is intimated or intended. I repeat my 
 words, therefore, that he took you to be 
 one of the banditti, and actuated by such 
 a supposition, instantly informed my fa- 
 ther, who thought proper you should be 
 secured. To be brief, however, with mjr 
 relation, as I perceive, Montauban, your 
 feelings are agitated from the indignity 
 you fancy you have received," continued 
 he, " I now then acquaint you, that the 
 events of the preceding night originat- 
 ed through the fear of your servant, 
 who supposed you to be hostilely de- 
 tained by us. Chance (as Lupino has 
 since informed me) directed him to our 
 vintager's cottage, from which, k appears, 
 you had butjust departed. On recounting 
 over a cheerful glass, the object of his 
 mission to the neighbourhood of Gros- 
 
 setto— '* 
 
AXSELMO. 205 
 
 setto — M At this account of RodoIphus> 
 Albert's designs, he knew, were, by that 
 unfortunate disclosure, frustrated ; Er- 
 nestine smiled, therefore, and pausing 
 for a moment, the enraged Montauban. 
 exclaimed " Go on, signior I" — "Well 
 then," he replied, " by that intelligence, 
 the vintager was enabled to impart 
 every requisite information, accompa- 
 nied, no doubt, with other idle village 
 tales, calculated only to inspire terror 
 into the breast of the ignorant. With 
 the assistance, therefore, of a few pea- 
 sants, to whom, it seems, Lupino had 
 imparted his fears of your personal 
 danger, they sallied forth, and like true 
 knights- errant, determined to rescue 
 you." — " Egregious fools!" reiterated 
 Montauban.—" Draw not a reflection on 
 their exploit/' continued Ernestine,, 
 laughing, till you hear the conclusion. 
 t( On arriving at the eastern side of the 
 castle, which is uninhabited, they in- 
 quired of the centinel if any stranger 
 
 had 
 
206 ANSELMO. 
 
 had been lately admitted into it ? the 
 soldier, not prepared, however, or not 
 disposed to answer this interrogative, 
 they immediately knocked him down; 
 and then another, not far distant, came 
 to the affray, and on perceiving the as- 
 sailants of his comrade, fired, but on 
 missing, these desperadoes, with their 
 bludgeons, knocked him down also; 
 our valiant guards then," said the 
 young Rodolphus, in an ironical tone, 
 if being thus defeated, a loud shout 
 from the conquerors announced their 
 brilliant victory, who were proceeding 
 to other acts of violence, had not their 
 uproar occasioned a general alarm 
 throughout the domains, and arrested 
 their progress. I/' continued Ernestine, 
 i* was the first drawn by the sound of 
 their voices into the field of battle, 
 when, judge my surprise, Montauban, I 
 saw Lupino, whom, by the light of a 
 taper, I instantly recognized, standing 
 triumphantly over the fallen soldier, 
 
 (the 
 
ANSELMO. 207* 
 
 (the other you'll observe had run away,) 
 and heard him denouncing vengeance, 
 if he did not immediately acquaint him 
 with the fate of his master, who, he was 
 sure, had been inveigled into the castle 
 by his hellish crew." — " I have no pa- 
 tience with such a blockhead." — " You 
 must, then," replied Ernestine, " till 
 you hear the end of his career, for it 
 was then nearly finished. I then ordered 
 that he should be instantly secured by 
 my attendants; and Lupino now finding 
 himself deserted by the rest of his gaV- 
 lant companions, who, on hearing the 
 alarm bell, had thought it advisable to 
 make a hasty retreat from the scene of 
 action, disclosed the whole affair, and 
 falling on his knees, prayed for mercy* 
 and to be permitted to join his master. 
 After some further •investigation of so 
 singular a proceeding, I lost no time in 
 acquainting my father of the mistake 
 he was under respecting you, Montau- 
 Jban; and as this unpleasant adventure 
 
 has, 
 
208 ANSELMO. 
 
 has originated through the fears of your 
 servant concerning your personal safety, 
 I trust you'll pardon him, and at the 
 same time accept an apology from my 
 father, which he particularly desires 
 should be made in his name, with an offer 
 likewise of every accommodation for pur- 
 suing your journey." Albert, however, 
 mortified beyond expression at the dis- 
 closure of the above account, related 
 with such scrupulous exactness by] the 
 son of Rodolphus, in apparent irony, 
 and triumph at the cause of it, so fatal 
 to the future hopes of Montauorm, in 
 regard to Eleanor, that he could scarcely 
 recover himself sufficiently to return 
 thanks for so prolix an explanation. 
 The poor culprit, Lupino, with suppli- 
 ant looks, now entreated to be pardon- 
 ed : "I would have instantly discharged 
 you, sirrah, for your audacity," exclaim- 
 ed the offended Albert, " had not this 
 gentleman so powerfully pleaded in 
 your behalf; to him, therefore, are you 
 
 indebted 
 
ANSELMO. 209 
 
 indebted for my lenity towards you." 
 Ernestine Rodolphus now again inter- 
 fered, and said — <c Montauban, as you 
 must be convinced that the conduct of 
 your servant proceeded entirely from a 
 faithful attachment and anxiety for your 
 safety, I pray you, therefore, wound 
 him no more with reproaches, but per- 
 mit me to desire the poor fellow to 
 make the best of his way towards the 
 Kitchen, and there to regale himself 
 after his knight-errantry, whilst I have 
 the pleasure of conducting you into the 
 saloon, likewise with the same intention* 
 to refresh yourself before you recom- 
 mence your journey." 
 
 Albert readily consented to the first 
 proposition, and would have offered no 
 objection to the latter, had he been 
 assured of the absence of the count An- 
 selmo; and the more especially so, be- 
 cause it might possibly have )ed to some 
 information respecting Eleanor; be de- 
 clined, however, accepting the invita- 
 tion, 
 
210 ANSELMO, 
 
 tion, for the former reason ; and Lupin o 
 having now returned from his short 
 repast, informed his master that every 
 thing was ready for his departure. Mont- 
 auban, therefore, hastily embraced this 
 opportunity of leaving his prison-cham- 
 ber, to avoid hearing any more apologies 
 from the young Rodolphus, who had 
 already been so profuse. Ernestine, on 
 following him to the gates of the castle* 
 said, ** Whither are you bound for, 
 Montauban ?'*—»*« Savoy."— 4f I shall soou 
 follow you then/* continued he, " and 
 had not an angel detained me in Tus- 
 cany, should have been with my regi- 
 ment long before this, I assure you." 
 These words struck like a dagger to the 
 heart of Montauban ; before that sen- 
 tence, Albert began to think favourably 
 of his supposed rival ; but now every 
 softer feeling instantly vanished, to give 
 place to the destructive passion of an 
 implacable resentment; turning to his 
 servant, however, as he mounted his 
 
 horse. 
 
ANSELMO. 211 
 
 horse, to conceal the emotions of anger 
 so visibly marked on his countenance, 
 Montauban said, (( Are you acquainted 
 with the road we are to take, Lupino ?" 
 — u I am, my lord." Albert replied 
 to Ernestine's rhapsodical exclamation, 
 " You have bartered honour to be ad- 
 mitted into paradise then, so fare you 
 well, ftodolphus." Without waiting for 
 an answer, Montauban now rode off, 
 followed by Lupino* who was soon at a 
 distance frem the dreade d confines of the 
 castle of Oidenzo, 
 
 The day proved line, and the sua 
 shone with uncommon brilliancy, re- 
 flecting innumerable stars on the ice- 
 topped mountains, whose crested sum- 
 mits Albert at length left, after several 
 hours travelling, for the milder climate 
 of the valleys, where the seasons of the 
 year lavish all their beauty and perfec- 
 tion. The shelving sides of the trans- 
 parent Arno were clothed with woods 
 of olive and almond trees, and the plains 
 
 embalmed 
 
212 ANS-LMO. 
 
 embalmed with herbs, and odorific flow- 
 ers, which encircled themselves through 
 extensive vineyards, and fragrant groves 
 of orange. 
 
 Such delightful scenes as these must 
 tend to cheer and renovate the drooping 
 heart; Albert, therefore, felt its genial 
 influence; and for the first time since 
 he had departed from the castle of Ro- 
 dolphus, began to question Lupino rf 
 the track they were then in led to the 
 monastery of Santa Maria? — " Santa 
 Maria, my lord ?" he answered with 
 surprise; " I thought you proposed 
 going into Savoy." — " That is my ulte- 
 rior intention. What intelligence did 
 you acquire there, after my departure i*' 
 — " I heard, my lord, that the lady Elea- 
 nor," said Lupino, with much hesitation, 
 " was not gone to Oldenzo ; madame 
 Rodolphus and her daughter visited the 
 convent about that time, and as the 
 young signora had not been seen since, 
 my lord, Florisee concluded that she had 
 
 gone 
 
ANSELMO. 213 
 
 T/ith them; however, it was not so, for I 
 learnt by her, when she returned home iu 
 the evening, that signora Eleanor was still 
 in the monastery, but strictly confined in 
 her cell, by order of their confessor, one 
 Lodovico, I think she called him, and no 
 person but the abbess permitted to visit 
 her on any account whatever." 
 
 This news imparted the deepest sor- 
 row into the breast of the lover. " And 
 where is count Anselmo?" inquired the 
 dejected Albert. xi I thought, my lord, 
 you knew by Zilio, the vintager, that 
 the count was with Rodolphus; at least 
 he told me so," said Lupino, continu- 
 ing, t' or I am sure I should never have 
 thought of knocking the centinel down 
 for not letting me into the castle; be- 
 cause I do firmly believe, my lord, that 
 the count bears you a mortal hatred, and 
 would do you an injury, if there was no 
 chance of its being found out." The 
 honest fellow would have been very lo- 
 quacious, by which Albert might have 
 
 learnt 
 
214 ANSELMO. 
 
 learnt some useful information, if he had 
 suffered him to continue; but having 
 instantly silenced Lupino, by saying — 
 rt No reflections on the character of 
 count Anselmo, I command you," he 
 therefore followed Montauban with- 
 out uttering a single word, until they 
 came to a turning of the road — " To the 
 right, my lord," he respectfully said, 
 <c leads to Santa Maria/' 
 
 " The fellow's mad — what have I 4o 
 
 k 
 
 do at Santa Maria, sirrah?" Poor Lu- 
 pino thought if he was deprived of his 
 senses, certainly his master was no less 
 so, having so instantaneously altered his 
 intention. Montauban, however, being 
 now well convinced of the inutility of 
 attempting to procure an interview with 
 Eleanor, thought it more advisable to 
 pursue his route towards Savoy, where 
 having at length arrived, he rejoined his 
 regiment, and in active dutv found some 
 relief from the tormenting anxiety of a 
 hopeless passion. 
 
 In 
 
ANSELMO. 21j 
 
 In a short time after Albert's return 
 to the seat of war, Ernestine Rodolpl\us 
 likewise appeared there ; the former 
 mutual coolness between these two young 
 officers had greatly increased, from their 
 late rencounter in Tuscany; and the sig- 
 nal marks of royal favour which Mont- 
 auban particularly received about that 
 period, tended to foment, rather than 
 diminish, the jealousy of Rodolphus, 
 who on all occasions strove to lessen 
 that fame which Albert, by his bravery, 
 had so justly merited and acquired. He 
 would often comment on, and treat with 
 ridicule, Montauban's affection for the 
 protegee of count Anselmo ; at the re- 
 lation of which intelligence Ernestine 
 did not scruple to mention his authors — 
 Lodovico, and his father, signior Rodol- 
 phus ; and that he well knew the lady 
 had been, for several years, betrothed 
 to a particular friend of her guardian. 
 At other times, he would cast reflections 
 on the personal character of Albert, de- 
 nominating 
 
216 ANSELMO. 
 
 nominating him that of a true courtrer, 
 humble and cringing to his superiors, 
 but insolent and overbearing to those 
 who were in an ordinary sphere of life. 
 These unfriendly opinions of Rodolphus, 
 in regard to Albert, were related to him 
 by a brother officer; and as such inform- 
 ations seldom lose in weight by repe- 
 tition, Montauban instantly waited on 
 his unjust accuser, and warmly remon- 
 strated on his unfriendly conduct. Words 
 grew so high between them, that (as be- 
 fore stated) a duel was the consequence, 
 and the event of which determined Er- 
 nestine to retire again from his military 
 career into Tuscany. 
 
 It was on Montauban's attendance at 
 the council at Turin that by chance he 
 heard of Anselmo being shortly expected 
 in that city ; and through the kindness 
 of his royal commander, had obtained 
 permission to visit his mother, during 
 the interim of her husband's absence. 
 On his arrival at Valleroy, he therefore 
 
 had 
 
ANSELMO. 217 
 
 had the good fortune to be apprized of 
 the departure of the count for Piedmont. 
 Every circumstance then seemed to con- 
 spire to render his stay there agreeable; 
 and no language can sufficiently convey 
 the delightful sensations that occupied 
 the breast of Albert, when he heard from 
 the lips of his revered parent that the 
 object of his love had been committed to 
 her protection. Past sorrows were for- 
 gotten — all his fears, his anxiety, his 
 jealousy, all were at that moment obli- 
 terated from his memory ; and every 
 thought instantly employed to be en- 
 abled to trace the steps of the fugitive. 
 The cottage of Florisee came first to his 
 recollection, as being the most likely 
 place of Eleanor's retreat. Nor was he 
 disappointed, for on pursuing his way 
 thither, the younger Florisee met him, 
 whose surprise and pleasure at seeing 
 Albert could only be augmented by 
 hearing that he had been at Valleroy, . 
 vol, t, l and 
 
218 AXSELMO. 
 
 and was then coming, at the desire of 
 fris mother, to search for Eleanor. 
 
 " Dear, dear, my lord," said the poor 
 girl* " how happy I am then to tell you 
 that the signora is at our cottage ! I shall 
 have no occasion to go now to the cas- 
 tle, to inform my lady, the countess, 
 that signora Eleanor is safe, and is com- 
 ing to Valleroy as soon as she is reco- 
 vered from her very great fright that she 
 received at the cavern ;" and continued 
 — ?• indeed, my lord, I cannot say how 
 glad I am to meet with you, because I 
 expected nothing less than to see the 
 jsame ghost that signora Eleanor did 
 this evening ; if mother had not com- 
 manded me to wait on the countess, the 
 whole world should not have persuaded 
 me to go any more to Valleroy, I assure 
 you that, my lord." — ff Well then," re- 
 plied Albert, smiling, " do you return 
 home, my good girl, with as much 
 speed as possible, and apprize Eleanor 
 
 of 
 
ANSELMO. 219 
 
 of my coming to be her conductor 
 thither/' A second entreaty was not 
 wanting to excite the young cottager 
 to execute his commission. With the 
 lightness of a svlph, therefore, Florisee 
 bounded over the mountains, to com- 
 municate to them her glad tidings; . and 
 as Montauban was fearful his unexpected 
 arrival might increase the alarm of Ele- 
 anor, he gently followed, to allow time 
 for the disclosure. 
 
 The night was calm and beautiful ; a 
 full moon was ranging, in tranquil ma- 
 jesty, the blue ether; the vesper bell 
 of Santa Maria vibrated through the 
 rocks, with mournful, yet not unpleas- 
 ing sound ; and the gothic walls of the 
 monastery, partially illumined by the 
 resplendent planet, added sublimity to 
 the surrounding scene of sacred inspir- 
 ation. 
 
 On drawing nearer the cottage, the 
 
 delighted Albert saw the form of Eleanor 
 
 and Florisee gliding through the trees 
 
 l 2 that 
 
229 AK-SELMO. 
 
 that embosomed this humble dwelling, 
 apparently hastening to meet him. As 
 they approached, Montauban dismount- 
 ed from his horse, and eagerly exclaim- 
 ed — " So verv kind, thus to welcome 
 me !'* Although the tone in which he 
 spoke was extremely low and inarticu- 
 late, if was not lost to the ear of Elea- 
 nor, who, whilst tremblingly repeating 
 his name likewise, with confused joy, 
 she was folded in the arms of her lover. 
 Albert then kissed away the tears which 
 bedewed her cheeks, and expressed, in 
 the most tender terms, the felicity he 
 experienced at being again restored to 
 her, after so long and painful an ab- 
 sence. Eleanor could not but feel flat- 
 tered by these testimonies of regard and 
 solicitude for her welfare; yet a natu- 
 ral timidity, inseparable to true affection, 
 kept her silent, and fearful of acknow- 
 ledging those, sentiments of a mutual 
 passion, which she justly reflected might 
 consign her too much into the power of 
 
 the 
 
ANSEIMO. 221 
 
 the youth she loved, and prove destruc- 
 tive to her neace of mind hereafter. 
 
 Montauban, however, was not well 
 satisfied with this tacit approval of the 
 affection of Eleanor; the natural warmth 
 of his temper, and the sensibility with 
 which' he was possessed, conspired to 
 awaken the doubts before entertained 
 respecting the sincerity of her attach- 
 ment. Albert now fixed his eyes on 
 Eleanor, with that kind of inquiry which 
 extremely abashed her, and was instantly 
 construed by the young soldier as unfa- 
 vourable to all his hitherto-expected 
 happiness: he therefore released the 
 hand of the lovely girl, which he had 
 taken with so much pleasure, and said, 
 with more respect, though less fervently 
 — " Shall I have the honour, madam, of 
 attending you to Valleroy ?" — (: Unkind 
 Montauban !" reiterated the now-offend- 
 ed Eleanor, " to ask of me such a ques- 
 tion, when you must well know the an- 
 guish 1 have suffered, at being for a mo- 
 l 3 ment 
 
222 ANSELMO. 
 
 ment separated from my beloved friend*, 
 the countess Anselrno." The vexation 
 that Albert felt from her reception of 
 him, was softened by this declaration of 
 attention to his revered mother. They 
 had before been unthinkingly continuing 
 their way to the cottage ; now, however, 
 he thought proper to dismiss Florisee, 
 with a suitable present for her goodness, 
 and obeyed the mandate of Eleanor to 
 conduct her to the castle. 
 
 As they proceeded thither, Eleanor 
 began, with that frankness which was so 
 natural to her, to relate the cause of her 
 flight from the cavern ; but that, Mont- 
 auban said, had been already related to 
 him by his mother — " No, rather tell 
 me," replied the impetuous youth, "the 
 event which has released you from a mo- 
 nastery ?" With hesitation she answered 
 — '■' I have been ill, very ill, for many 
 weeks past, and therefore my guardian 
 lias consigned me to the care of his be- 
 nevolent lady until I am recovered." — - 
 
 "Only 
 
ANSELMO. 223 
 
 "OnTy till then?" — "J know not to 
 the contrary," replied the dejected Ele- 
 anor, to whom this latter question had 
 renewed the uncertainty of her future 
 fate, and forcibly recalling to her me- 
 mory the forlorn condition of an or- 
 phan, even tinder the most prosperous 
 circumstances in life, suffused her eyes 
 with tears. 
 
 " The cause of your illness, my love/* 
 continued Albert, " has then proceeded 
 from your unjust confinement, and for 
 which you are. indebted to the confessor 
 Lodovico, whose cruelty M — " Par- 
 don me," she replied, " if I say that 
 you have been wrong informed ; and as 
 an extenuation of the strictness with 
 which our confessor exercises his autho- 
 rity, I must acquaint you, that it arises 
 from his due observance of the forms of 
 our church, and his great piety ; the 
 mind of Lodovico is torn with inward 
 anguish, and it has been a subject of 
 l 4 surprise 
 
224 ANSELM0. 
 
 surprise amongst the conventuals, tha-t 
 he can continue to exist under such a 
 pressure of mental agony, seldom al- 
 lowing himself an interval of rest to 
 sooth his perturbed imagination. " To 
 Montauban's question, of hearing the 
 riejson of that inquietude ? .Eleanor an- 
 swered — Cf I have more than once re- 
 quested of sister Cecilia to relate Lo- 
 dovico's history, but she evinced so much 
 real agitation, and such marked displea- 
 sure at my curiosity, that I determined 
 (highly prizing her friendship) never 
 to repeat such a wish in future : the rest 
 of the nuns appear equally desirous of 
 eluding any conversation respecting the 
 confessor; all, therefore, that I could 
 learn from them was, that Lodovico had 
 not always been accustomed to the se- 
 clusion of a cloister, had witnessed ex- 
 tensive scenes in life, and been very 
 
 unfortunate; they- would then conclude 
 by saying — ' Seek, therefore., to know 
 
 no 
 
ANSELMO" 225 
 
 no more, Eleanor but rest assured that 
 our beloved confessor commands our 
 united pity." 
 
 " Lull not yourself into security by 
 their insidious doctrine/' eagerly replied 
 Montauban, " their pretended asseve- 
 rations ; Lodovico may be a saint in 
 outward demeanour, yet at heart a hy- 
 pocrite. Believe me, his time is not 
 always dedicated to prayer ; the confes- 
 sor has not numbered forty years; his 
 animated countenance, fine form, and 
 eyes that at once, by their keen expres- 
 sion, dart conviction on his discourse, 
 has no doubt .many proselytes, whilst 
 inwardly he may be a rank voluptuary.. 
 It was Lodovico," ejaculated the lover, 
 with rising anger at the idea, "that 
 solicited count Anselmo to have you 
 immured, Eleanor, within the walls of 
 a convent ; it was Lodovico who ac- 
 quainted your guardian of my attach- 
 ment towards you ; and it is this man, 
 this pretended devotee ol religious forms, 
 l 5 who 
 
226 ANSELMO. 
 
 who now seeks, and hopes to accomplish, 
 the design of dragging you an immo- 
 lated victim to the altar — to seclude you 
 for ever in the deep and cheerless gloom 
 of monastic apathy. Rise, therefore, 
 superior, Eleanor, to the danger that's 
 impending over you/' continued Mont- 
 auban, with the utmost emotion ; " be 
 nobly resolute; the attribute most ac- 
 ceptable to God is a life passed in active 
 virtue, not in passive duty towards an 
 omniscient Creator; fly then from a coun- 
 try that offers no equivalent for the loss 
 of your freedom ; seek for refuge in a. 
 kinder region, where liberty is acknow- 
 ledged to be a birth-right, and every in- 
 habitant enjoys the fruits of it. For 
 your sake, my Eleanor, I will be myself 
 an alien ; will, on the olive branch of 
 * peace revisiting my native land, follow 
 y.ou to the farthermost parts of the 
 globe; consent to be mine by the holy 
 ties of our church, let me be your pro- 
 tector, and then who will be so happy, 
 
 so 
 
ANSELMO. 227 
 
 so supremely blest, as Albert de Mont- 
 auban !" 
 
 " Ah ! where/' replied the weeping- 
 girl, " would you have me seek for 
 refuge, young as I am, ignorant of fo- 
 reign customs, and without a friend (if 
 I displease the count Anselmo) to suc- 
 cour or advise me in so forlorn a situ- 
 ation ?" 
 
 " England, my love !" he exclaimed* 
 with fervour, " is the country that will 
 offer you an asylum ; in that protected 
 isle, the stranger and unfortunate, of 
 whatever nation or state they may hap- 
 pen to belong, receives succour, aid, 
 and support. To Britain, then, would 
 I consign you, and into the arms of a 
 revered relation now resident there, a 
 sister of my mother, who many years 
 since was united to an English gentle- 
 man of the name of Stanmore, a particu- 
 lar friend of her brother, St. Orville. — 
 It was a happy union," sighed Albert, 
 as he reflected how different would be 
 l 6 his 
 
228 ANSELMO. 
 
 his fate, if unsuccessful in his present 
 suit; "for Olivia loved Stanmore with 
 the tenderest affection ; he too merited 
 the treasure he had acquired, for to the 
 most brilliant intellectual qualities is 
 joined an universal philanthropy ; the 
 widow, the stranger, and the orphan, are 
 blest bv his munificence, and hail him as 
 their guardian angel." 
 
 " Tempt me not, Montauban," inter- 
 rupted Eleanor with firmness; "tempt 
 me not to a dereliction of my duty, by 
 Mich sweet dreams of promised felicity : 
 let reason, not passion, direct our pur- 
 suits; and then, however tempestuous 
 the troubled sea of life may prove, 
 j eace shall waft us to a happy shore at 
 last. Reflect but for a moment," she 
 continued, " the obligations I owe to 
 count Anselmo ; it is true he was forced 
 to take me under his protection ; yet 
 that could have only actuated him till 
 the period that his personal safety was 
 out of danger : when that was secured,, 
 
 no 
 
ANSELMO. 229 
 
 no longer was there any compulsion to 
 induce the count to adhere to the impe- 
 rious demand of my father, (if the man 
 who delivered me into his hands, desert- 
 ing me at such a tender age, can be 
 called as such); no, there was none: 
 from his natural compassion and genero- 
 sity, therefore, (which is ever inherent in 
 the noble mind,) from these alone am I 
 indebted solely for my present existence ; 
 and would you have me return such 
 goodness with base ingratitude ?" 
 
 The lover, although not well con- 
 vinced by these arguments of the im- 
 practicability of his proposition, yet 
 thought it most advisable to defer ur- 
 ging it till some more favourable op- 
 portunity should present itself. The 
 ancient turrets of Yaileroy, frowning 
 with majestic grandeur, now appeared 
 to view, and thither Montauban and 
 Eleanor continued their way in mutual 
 silence, except being now and then 
 broken by the deep-drawn sighs of Al- 
 bert, 
 
230 ANSELMO. 
 
 bert, that could not avoid being infec- 
 tious to his companion, and causing her 
 real sorrow, which the following events 
 of that night was by no means calculated 
 to allay. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
ANSELMO. 251 
 
 CHAP. XII. 
 
 Glory is like a circle in the water, 
 
 Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself, 
 
 Till by broad spreading it disperse to nought. 
 
 Shakespeal>, 
 
 Resuming the narrative of count Ansel- 
 mo, whom we have before mentioned as 
 having arrived at the castle of Oldenzo, 
 and from the private conference of that 
 evening between the friends, and the 
 unpleasant communication he had re- 
 ceived from Rodolphus, had so deeply 
 agitated his mind, as to cause even a mo- 
 mentary derangement of intellect. In 
 that melancholy state, the count had 
 risen from his bed, to prepare for his 
 
 instantaneous 
 
232 ANSELMO, 
 
 instantaneous departure to Turin ; to 
 expedite that intention, he resolved to 
 pursue the rest of his journey on horse- 
 back, without waiting for his attendants; 
 for whom he left orders that they 
 might proceed at their leisure. 
 
 As Ansehno pursued his route through 
 Piedmont, and on entering the precincts 
 of its capita], many a recollection, pain- 
 ful to his mind, arose of past occur- 
 rences. How unlike is the present with 
 the past ! truly uncertain are all the 
 events of life; and how unforeseen do 
 these crowd on us \ Mortifying to his 
 pride must it then have been to reflect 
 upon his former grandeur, and the pre- 
 sent humiliating change — he who had 
 never before returned to this place with- 
 out receiving, if possible, additional ho- 
 mage — he whom the people always 
 flocked in crowds to see, and to extol 
 the man whom .they emphatically styled 
 the saviour of their country, and whom 
 they almost worshipped as a god — him 
 
 whose 
 
ANSELMO. 23$ 
 
 whose name even their children were 
 taught, in their first accents, to lisp its 
 pn;ise, and then, preceded by these young 
 embryos of a flourishing state, these fu- 
 ture defenders of its glory, have strewn 
 with flowers the streets through which he 
 passed, and crowned, as a memento of a 
 Ration's ]o\ j e and gratitude, the brows of 
 their hero with unfading laurel. Mark 
 the reverse ! behold him now forsaken, 
 neglected, and despised ! How unstable, 
 how transitory, is popular favour ! which 
 has oftener proved rather a misery than 
 a blessing to him that has possessed it ; 
 seldom founded on judgment or sound 
 reason, and therefore can never be last- 
 ing ; a delirium of the brain for the 
 moment, fatal to those whose minds are 
 dazzled by such false illusions, or deceit- 
 ful phantoms ; a loud clamour is raised, 
 under the stale pretence of redressing 
 some grievance, of which the poor in 
 every state complain, who invariably 
 suppose themselves oppressed by the 
 
 rich : 
 
234 ANSELMO. 
 
 rich : this mania soon becomes of an 
 extent truly alarming; the prime mover 
 of these proceedings is adored by the 
 infatuated multitude with the most wild 
 enthusiasm ; thousands repair to the 
 standard of their favourite; they wade 
 through blood to exalt him ; they sacri- 
 fice the lives and property of the peace- 
 able and well-disposed at the shrine of 
 that mistaken idol called liberty, but 
 which, in fact, is only another expression 
 for anarchy and confusion, and ending 
 generally in complete subjugation and 
 unlimited slavery. In forwarding this 
 supposed good, they are in their opi- 
 nions overbearing, insolent, and despotic : 
 when power is engrafted on ignorance, 
 all modest and private virtues are hurled 
 from the scene of action — all sense, all 
 religion, is discarded from their tribunals 
 But lo! fallacious hope ! no sooner does 
 this favoured champion of their rights 
 and liberties possess himself of all this 
 proffered confidence, than flattered by 
 
-ANSELMO. rj 23& 
 
 success, he grasps at universal sway, 
 and subjects the credulous multitude to 
 abject slavery : for a time even should a 
 return of reason glance on the minds of 
 his deluded followers that they have been 
 woefully disappointed in their expecta- 
 tions, they are ashamed, they dare not 
 at once acknowledge the error into 
 which they have fallen ; the fuel of 
 revenge, however, lays rankling m their 
 breasts, which a single breath blows into 
 a flame, and then is their former idol 
 sacrificed to the manes of those whose 
 blood they had so lamentably, so un- 
 justly shed, for his unwarrantable and 
 individual ambition. 
 
 Some slight shaded difference except- 
 ed, such was the situation of the count 
 Anselmo at this period. The mysterious 
 and the sudden death of the general de 
 Montauban in the prison of Oristagni, 
 and the counts marriage with Almeria, 
 before the second year of her widow- 
 hood had expired, was an event that 
 
 afforded 
 
S36 ANSELMO. 
 
 afforded ample scope for his enemies fa 
 work upon, and in which they were 
 now beyond their hopes successful. 
 Having learned that the duke o^ Savoy 
 regretted the loss of Anselmo's counsel 
 and had it in contemplation to request 
 his return to the official department then 
 occupied by signior Rodolphus, they in- 
 dustriously circulated the most malevo- 
 lent reports, to attach to their interest 
 the remaining friends of the count, and 
 even to join in the popular outcry, by 
 having gone so far as to have pronoun- 
 ced him deeply concerned, and an abet- 
 tor in the untimely end of the general, 
 whom they firmly believed had been bar- 
 barously murdered. 
 
 A meeting of the nobles was accord- 
 ingly held at the senate-house, to take 
 this subject under their consideration 
 and to digest the most efficient means of 
 proving the truth or fallaciousness of 
 such a rumour. It was unanimously 
 agreed by that assembly that they should 
 
 present 
 
ANSELMO. 237 
 
 present a petition to their sovereign for 
 fhat purpose ; and further prayed that 
 the body of the lamented Leontine de 
 Montauban should be removed from Sar- 
 dinia to Turin ; and to mark the grate- 
 ful sense of the people, for the services 
 the general had so conspicuously ren- 
 dered his country, to bestow on it a pub- 
 lic funeral. 
 
 The prayer o[ the petition was granted 
 by the duke of Savoy, and emissaries 
 immediately sent off to Cagliari on the 
 melancholy occasion : instructions had 
 been likewise given to signior Rodol- 
 phus, to apprize his predecessor of the 
 past occurrences, requiring (if the count 
 intended to refute the charges brought 
 against him) an immediate attendance in 
 Savoy. 
 
 Rodolphus, then on the eve of re- 
 turning into Tuscany, thought it most 
 advisable, therefore, to communicate 
 these instructions at a personal inter- 
 view ; the relation of which it was that 
 
 caused 
 
^38 ANSELMO. 
 
 caused the count snch severe anguish, 
 and actuated his sudden disappearance 
 from the castle of Gldenzo. 
 
 On Ansel mo's arrival at Turin, and on 
 entering the gate of Port de Suze, the 
 town presented a scene of the utmost 
 ■splendour. It was the day of Corpus 
 Domini; a grand procession of the in- 
 habitants, sumptuously attired, was then 
 proceeding to the church, to celebrate 
 the occasion, and to offer up their 
 thanksgivings for the miracle.* 
 
 To 
 
 * The church of Corpus Domini .is one of .the best in 
 Turin, the inside being entirely composed of the most 
 beautiful marble, and adorned with precious relics, aris- 
 ing from the numerous donations which are continually 
 presented to it. For the building of this sanctuary 
 (tradition says) it was indebted to the following pheno- 
 menon : — In the year 1453, during a trifling war between 
 the inhabitants of Suze and the Dnnphiness, a Pied- 
 montese soldier stole out of a church, in the village of 
 Isliglio, the host, in a silver stand, which he loaded, with 
 other merchandize, on his mule: when he came to Turin, 
 
 the 
 
ANSEL1I0. 239 
 
 To avoid observation, therefore, the 
 count did not repair to his mansion (of 
 which he still had possession) till mid- 
 night, but went to a house in the sub- 
 urbs, belonging to one Lusignan, who 
 liad formerly acted as his secretary. An- 
 selmo was received by him with much 
 pleasure, and every accommodation of- 
 fered to alleviate the fatigues of his 
 journey. Lusignan was a man of strict 
 integrity, of unshaken faith, and like- 
 wise possessed of great courage. During 
 the late process against his patron, singly 
 had he contended to plead in Anselmo's 
 favour, to state the inconsistency of 
 
 many 
 
 the animal rested at this spot, and its burden fell off; the 
 •stand then opened of itself, and the host came out, and 
 rose instantly in the air, where it remained tiil the bishop, 
 Louis Itoraagnauo, followed by many of the clergy, ar- 
 rived, and through their prayers, brought the host to 
 enter into the chalice, or cup, which he held. To preserve 
 the memory of which, they built a small chapel; and ia 
 the year 1607 it was altered by the devout i.iliabitautg of 
 Turin into a magnificent church. 
 
240 ANSELMO. 
 
 many of their arguments; and concluded 
 a very nervous harangue, by saying, 
 that he would pledge his own life for 
 the innocence of the count Anselmo. 
 On the senators remonstrating at the 
 unseasonable warmth with which Lusig- 
 nan had spoken, he replied — " I pray 
 you, my noble lords, to pardon the 
 manner of my speech, having been at- 
 tentive only to weigh the substance of 
 it, to which I request your gracious con- 
 sideration. I repeat," he continued, 
 " and humbly submit to your lordships' 
 calm reflection, the improbability of 
 such a crime as that imputed to my no- 
 ble patron. The count, although un- 
 known to our beloved general de Mont- 
 auban, was his most strenuous supporter. 
 Is it possible, then, that my noble lords 
 can draw an unfavourable inference from 
 that circumstance, which at the time 
 was. so much applauded, and added an- 
 other laurel to the many he has so justly 
 fought for, and received from his grate- 
 ful 
 
ANSELMO. 241 
 
 ful countrymen ? If so, in vain may 
 we look for friendship ! It is certainly 
 not in the breast of wise men, for they 
 "will fear the misconstruction that might 
 arise from doing a generous action ; not 
 in the breast of fools, for they only have 
 a friendship for themselves ; nor is it 
 to be expected from the herd of priests 
 that daily crowd to our altars, for their 
 prevailing sentiment is their own sal- 
 vation. If friendship, therefore, should 
 be discarded from those with whom it 
 has hitherto been nurtured — the sensible, 
 well-informed patriots, its name must 
 become a dead letter, and consigned for 
 ever to oblivion. Reflect, my noble 
 lords," continued Lusignan, with enthu- 
 siastic ardour, arising from the import- 
 ance of the subject, ?'. that it is by the 
 exercise of brotherly love we are taught 
 to regard the whole human species as 
 one family ; the high and low, rich and 
 poor, created by one Almighty Being, 
 and sent into the world for the aid, and 
 vol.1. ~m support, 
 
support, and protection of each other. 
 On this principle, man unites man of 
 every country, sect, and opinion; and 
 conciliates true friendship among those 
 who might otherwise have remained at 
 perpetual distance. Relief, my lords, is 
 the next tenet of our profession : to re- 
 ieve the distressed is a duty incumbent 
 on all men, but particularly on men 
 who are all linked together by an indis- 
 soluble chain of sincere affection. To 
 sooth the unhappy, to sympathize with 
 Iheir misfortunes, to compassionate their 
 miseries, and to restore peace to their 
 troubled minds, is the grand aim we 
 ought to have in view. On this basis 
 we establish our friendship, and form 
 our connexions." 
 
 So strong, however, was the prepos- 
 session of Anselmo's guilt in the minds 
 of the people, that all argument inclin- 
 ing to favour the supposed culprit was 
 rendered unavailing and nugatory. The 
 populace had even gone so far as to pro- 
 nounce 
 
AXSELMO^ 243 
 
 nounce'Lnsignan an accomplice in the 
 foul deed ; and on his retiring from the 
 senate-house, he was treated by them 
 with marked indignation and insult; not- 
 withstanding which, being conscious of 
 his innocence, he nobly withstood the 
 torrent of clamour that was raised against 
 himself, and likewise continued to exalt 
 the character of his patron, and express 
 abhorrence at their unjustifiable pro- 
 ceedings. Lusignan, therefore, acted up 
 to the principle of equity he had so 
 forcibly recommended to others; and 
 proved the only remaining friend of the 
 count at this juncture. Faithfully did 
 he now then relate to Anselmo every 
 circumstance of this strange and unac- 
 countable process ; and at the same time, 
 respectfully offering his services to the 
 count in any way that might be thought 
 most useful. " Yet, my lord," con- 
 tinued the good old man, " do not too 
 hastily trust professions of friendship, 
 nor reveal your thoughts too readily ;. 
 m 2 for 
 
$4* AffSEL3lO« 
 
 for I fully agree in opinion with the 
 wise son of Sirach, that c false friends 
 are always the most dangerous foes/ 
 Pardon the boldness of my offering you 
 advice/' said Lusignan, " the presump- 
 tive manner, too, in which I tender it ; 
 having seen and thoroughly scanned the 
 motives, the pursuits of mankind, in 
 general, and by tracing the evil source 
 from whence it springs, I have been 
 enabled to steer clear of the vortex into 
 which the greater part of the human 
 race unthinkingly plunge themselves. 
 The prevailing passion I allude to is 
 pride, the false notion of attaining 
 happiness by grandeur; their vanity, 
 therefore, is insurmountable, and they 
 spare no pains to arrive at this desired 
 good, from an idea too often implanted 
 in the youthful breast, that the rich and 
 powerful are always gliding on a calm 
 surface, and without they attain it like- 
 wise, their lives will be as a troubled 
 &ea, invaded by storms and tempests. I 
 
 have 
 
ANSELMO. 2*0 
 
 have found, by long experience, it is to 
 that passion alone, therefore, from 
 whence arises real misery in this world, 
 and is the cause even of an imperfect 
 belief of a future one ; the gay and 
 thoughtless can never be made sensible 
 of their error until they feel the weight 
 of it ; they say, only point out to us one 
 advantage obtained by an humble sta- 
 tion, and we will follow it. To have 
 truth announced to you, at all times, is 
 ever salutary and beneficial in its effects, 
 whereas, in prosperity, every thing ap- 
 pears under false colours of flattery and 
 insidious friendship, where the baneful 
 venom of envy is nurtured, and in the 
 end, too often overthrows, by its hidden 
 poison, the favourite of the fickle god- 
 dess." 
 
 This garrulity of the old man, in ex- 
 pressing his sentiments and opinions, 
 was not displeasing to the count Ansel- 
 mo, who, in acquiescing with the latter 
 remarks, exclaimed — " Oh Almeria, to 
 m 3 thy 
 
246 AWSELMO. 
 
 thy fatal charms then am I indebted 
 for all my misfortunes!" — " Think not 
 so, my lord," replied Lusignan ; " I 
 trust many happy days will yet await 
 on you; should fate, however, unfortu- 
 nately doom it that your enemies shall 
 sleep in security, and yourself fall a vic- 
 tim to their machinations, never, my 
 lord, oh ! never," continued the worthy 
 secretary, " let your countess be ac- 
 quainted with the unhappy cause of 
 your downfall, for the agony of her 
 mind, on reflecting on the circumstances 
 which led to it, will drive her to mad- 
 ness V* 
 
 ie How can I prevent the misery you 
 so emphatically foretell, Lusignan ?" — 
 " Know you not, my lord/' he replied 
 to this question of the count, " that in 
 the province of Umbria, near the town 
 ofFoligno, stands an. uninhabited villa, 
 formerly belonging to the ancient fa- 
 mily of Thersilochus, and which was left 
 to a nephew, who was shipwrecked, 
 
 some 
 
ANSELMO. 247 
 
 Some years ago, in his voyage to Al- 
 giers, where he was going to release, 
 by ransom, a female captive, that had 
 been taken by the Moors, a lady to 
 whom it was supposed the young man 
 was fondly attached ? It has now de- 
 volved to a distant relative, who, not 
 approving of the situation, has suffered 
 the noble mansion to go into decay; 
 and therefore an old peasant and his 
 wife, whose cottage is contiguous, have 
 been entrusted with the keys of the 
 dwelling, with the power of disposing 
 of the structure, should a purchaser be 
 found for it. 
 
 " This, my lord/' then continued Lu- 
 signan, " 1 woi.kl advise you to fix on 
 for the retreat of the countess Ansel mo, 
 until the period rt may please Heaven 
 to allow \ou to return with her in safety 
 to Vallcroy ; nor should there be any 
 time lost in carrying this scheme into 
 execution; for to my certain know- 
 ledge^ 
 
248 ANSELMO. 
 
 ledge, the friends of the deceased gene- 
 ral de Montauban have applied to the 
 senate to separate Almeria from you 
 by force, for the professed purpose of 
 placing the countess in a' convent for the 
 rest of her life." 
 
 "Distraction!" exclaimed the now 
 ungovernable Anselmo, on rising from 
 his seat, and whilst pacing the room, 
 with hurried and Unequal steps, " may 
 every torment light upon the wretched 
 for so diabolical an invention! Tear 
 from me my wife ! the saint- like 
 Almeria from the protecting arms of 
 a husband ! my brain's on fire! I can no 
 longer bear to hear the accumulating 
 insults which are preparipg for me ! Be- 
 fore to-morrow's dawn will I repair to 
 the palace," continued Anselmo, with 
 increasing fury, '* then will I throw 
 myself at the feet of my sovereign, 
 state my wrongs, the cruelty of my ene- 
 mies, unfold the designs of these men 
 
 of 
 
ANSELMO-. 249 
 
 of blood, and turn the sacred sword 
 of justice to their own destruction !" A 
 pause ensued after these wild exclama- 
 tions of the count ; Lusignan, however, 
 remained silent. Anselmo then went on 
 — " Is my honourable house, and the 
 name of my noble ancestors, to be tra- 
 duced by such miscreants ? deluded vi- 
 pers ! love, they suppose, has made me 
 a coward ; a grovelling, mean-spirited 
 coxcomb; afraid to meet the eye of a 
 man; metamorphosed, perhaps, into a 
 drivelling waiting-maid. They shall be,, 
 however, better acquainted with me," 
 ejaculated Anselmo, with a convulsive 
 laugh, " know me better ; the flame of 
 glory, although for some time dormant 
 in my soul, is not extinguished ; my sin* 
 gle arm shall hurl them headlong from 
 the height which they have so ignobly 
 raised themselves, by consummate art 
 and treachery unparalleled !" 
 
 In vain did Lusignan endeavour to 
 
 calm 
 
£50 
 
 ANSELMO. 
 
 calm those passionate tumultuous decla- 
 rations of count Anselmo : all argument, 
 however, was ineffectual, in the present 
 unhappy state of his mind : this worthy 
 man, therefore, who had only acted the 
 part of a true friend, in tendering advice 
 and giving information to Anselmo, that 
 -he might be enabled to counteract the 
 designs of his enemies, foreseeing, now, 
 that the least opposition would tend 
 only to exasperate the already-agitated 
 feelings of his patron, in the most re- 
 spectful manner pleaded excuse for the 
 unseasonable warmth in which he had 
 spoken, and then left the apartment. 
 
 Some time after this elapsed before the 
 count could sufficiently recover himself to 
 receive Lusignan again into his presence. 
 The hour for his departure drew near; 
 the pious votaries of Corpus Christi had 
 all returned to their habitations, and ex- 
 cepting a few love-stricken youths, who 
 were employed in serenading near the 
 
 dwellings 
 
ANSELMO. 251 
 
 dwellings of their mistresses, the city- 
 was perfectly tranquil, and free from in- 
 terruption. 
 
 On a female servant appearing with 
 more lights, and other refreshments, An- 
 selmo ordered Lusignan to re-enter the 
 chamber, and on his obeying it, said— 
 " Well, my good friend, I have not 
 been unmindful of your sage advice; 
 and to convince you of the truth of what 
 I say, to-morrow I purpose sending in- 
 structions to my confidential steward to 
 purchase the villa with all possible speed, 
 and to prepare it for the reception of 
 the countess Anselmo." 
 
 " I hope, my good lord," he replied, 
 " that you will, in this instance, not be 
 actuated by any suggestions, without 
 calmly reflecting yourself on the pro- 
 priety of such an expedient, which you 
 will be more competent to judge of after 
 an interview with our royal duke." — " I 
 think with you," said the count, u and 
 
 as 
 
252 ANSELMO. k 
 
 as the night is far advanced, will no 
 longer trouble you ; in the morning, 
 however, I have to request your attend- 
 ance on me to the palace;" which being 
 assented to, Ansel mo then took leave of 
 Lusignan, and immediately departed. 
 
 KND OF VOL. I. 
 
 Printed by J. Darling, Leadenhall-Street, London. 
 

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