a 
 
 • i 
 
 
 a.,. 

 
 L [ B R.AR.Y 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF ILLINOIS 
 
 823
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA 
 
 THE AUTHOR OF 
 
 ROMANCE AND REALITY, THE VENETIAN BRACELET, 
 
 Must we in tears 
 
 Unwind a love knit up by many years 1 
 I cannot break my faith — cannot re-send 
 The truest heart that lover e'er did lend." 
 
 King. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET, 
 (successor to henry colburn.) 
 
 1834.
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED BY JAMES MOYES, 
 Castle Street, Leicester Square.
 
 
 TO 
 
 tr- MRS. WYNDHAM LEWIS. 
 
 Dear Madam, 
 
 May I inscribe to you the present Work ? 
 a slight remembrance of your kindness to 
 
 Your affectionate 
 
 L. E. L.
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " The remembrance of youth is a sigh." 
 
 Arabian Proverb. 
 
 Toil is the portion of day, as sleep is that of 
 night ; but if there be one hour of the twenty-four 
 which has the life of day without its labour, and 
 the rest of night without its slumber, it is the 
 lovely and languid hour of twilight. The shadows 
 have not yet deepened into darkness, as yet the 
 boughs droop not, and the fragrant leaves of the 
 flower are still unclosed. The magnificence of 
 the noon which excites, the mystery of the mid- 
 night which awes, are distinct from the softness 
 of evening. It is earth's brief breathing space, 
 after the heat and hurry of her busier time ; like 
 that repose known only to the young and happy, 
 when the nerves gradually compose themselves, 
 the thoughts gather into some vague but delicious 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 train, and the eyes are closed by languor before 
 sleep. 
 
 The day had been oppressively hot, but now a 
 heavy dew fell, and a cool wind stirred the trees. 
 The flowers raised their heads, and repaid the 
 moisture by exhaling their hoarded sweetness ; 
 the thrush sang a few notes, low and soft, like 
 the unconscious expression of enjoyment ; and the 
 cypresses, whose spiral heads had declined in the 
 heat, now stood upright, stately and refreshed. 
 The last hue of crimson had died away in the 
 west, and the depth of the rich purple atmo- 
 sphere was unbroken. 
 
 "It is too dark," said the young sculptor, as 
 he let his hand fall listlessly by his side, and 
 stood gazing on the bust, as only the lover who 
 looks on the face beloved, and the artist who 
 looks on his own work, can gaze. The tender- 
 ness of the one, and the pride of the other, were 
 blended in the youth's countenance. Again he 
 resumed his seat, but not his employment; the 
 lulling influence of the time was upon him. Sun- 
 shine, like truth, would have been too strong for 
 such dreams as those in which he was indulging ; 
 but they harmonised with the dim shades now 
 flitting round. Suddenly one of those rose-edged 
 clouds in which a chance sunbeam lingers to the
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 6 
 
 last, flung, as it floated^y, the full richness of its 
 colouring on the marble. The artist was recalled, 
 by his sense of beauty, to reality. 
 
 " O, my sister, do come and see how exquisite 
 is this effect !" exclaimed he, with all that youthful 
 eagerness which is impatient for sympathy in its 
 delight. 
 
 Slowly the maiden came from the adjacent 
 window, where she had been leaning silent and 
 apart. But her reverie had been deeper far than 
 his." He had dwelt on fancies — she on thought; 
 and the charm of the one was sooner removed 
 than the weight of the other. 
 
 " Very beautiful, Guido!" said she, kindly; — 
 but kindness was not enough for one who wanted 
 admiration. 
 
 Strange mystery of our nature, that those in 
 whom genius developes itself in imagination, thus 
 taking its most ethereal form, should yet be the 
 most dependent on the opinions of others ! Praise 
 is their very existence ; and those who have the 
 wings of the dove, with which they might "flee 
 away and be at rest," delight rather to linger 
 on the high road, forgetting that where the sun- 
 shine falls, there too gathers the dust, and that 
 the soil remains when the silver lustre has passed. 
 Alas ! thus ever does the weakness of our nature
 
 4 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 rebuke its strength, and ginius is brought to the 
 level — ay, below the level — of common human- 
 ity, by an unquenchable thirst for its applause. 
 
 " If she had been really my sister," thought 
 Guido, " she would have entered into my feel- 
 ings ;" and he turned almost resentfully away. 
 One glance at the pale cheek and glistening 
 eyelashes of his cousin (for such she really was, 
 though the names of brother and sister came 
 familiar to their familiar intercourse) brought 
 him again to her side. 
 
 " Why do you weep, dearest Francesca?" he 
 whispered, in those low and musical tones which 
 only affection can utter. 
 
 For reply she leant her head on his shoulder ; 
 and as he threw his arm round her waist, he 
 could feel that strong, though suppressed, emo- 
 tion shook the slight frame which he supported. 
 He led her tenderly to the window, and they 
 sat down together. Suddenly a few notes of 
 distant music arose on the air. Both started as 
 if each had some peculiar interest in the sound. 
 The flush died as rapidly as it came on the cheek 
 of Francesca : 
 
 " It is not yet time for vespers — it is only the 
 song of some boatmen." 
 
 Guido gazed upon her earnestly. " Francesca,
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 5 
 
 sister, dearest, you weep ! Can it be that you 
 will leave us?" 
 
 The girl raised her large eyes, yet shining 
 with tears. Their affectionate reproach was an- 
 swer enough. 
 
 " Alas!" continued he, " we are not happy as 
 we were once wont to be ; how indifferent are 
 we grown to so much that we usecl to love ! how 
 altered we are, and in such brief space ! No 
 affection have we now for the snow-white doves, 
 or the agile squirrel, in which we once took such 
 delight ; we feed them, but it is as a duty, not 
 as a pleasure. No longer do we nurse the last 
 glimmer in the lamp, to pore over the enchanted 
 page of Tasso. No more do we rise with the 
 first red on the sky, and, hurrying to the green 
 wood, call, ourselves knights and enthralled prin- 
 cesses, and our mimic sports adventures. I keenly 
 feel how the actual is superseding our imaginative 
 world. Already the weight of the future is upon 
 us; we plan and calculate, rather than hope. 
 We find how little we have to do with our des- 
 tiny, and yet, forsooth, we seek to direct it. Ever 
 since that English stranger arrived " 
 
 A shrill, harsh voice from the ^farther extre- 
 mity of the chamber interrupted their discourse. 
 " English ! English ! — who names under my roof
 
 6 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 the only word which is there forbidden? Talk, 
 children, of what you list, but never let my old 
 ears be startled by the mention of those accursed 
 islanders!" 
 
 The speaker was an aged man — aged he 
 seemed beyond the common lot of humanity — 
 and thin, shrivelled, and contracted, as if the 
 popular belief were true, that his life was pro- 
 longed by chemical secrets, and that he won from 
 subtle drugs and essences a meagre and protracted 
 existence. The anger of Carrara (for such was the 
 old man's name) was of brief duration, and almost 
 the following moment he became immersed in his 
 former occupation. 
 
 It was a strange scene, the contrasts which 
 met in that large but dilapidated chamber. It 
 had been the banqueting-hall in the ancient pa- 
 lace of the La Franchi, but the revelry and the 
 splendour had long since passed away. The his- 
 tory of its former possessors had been the history 
 of most noble families. First pomp, finally want 
 — the gorgeous retinue reduced to the scanty 
 train — daughter after daughter to convent — son 
 after son to the wars ; one remnant of olden state 
 vanishing after another, till the last of the line 
 died a forgotten exile, in some obscure skirmish 
 far away from his native land. One or two aged
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 7 
 
 dependants still lingered amid the lonely walls; 
 they died too ; and for years the deserted palace 
 had been left to the bird, the insect, and the weed. 
 The bat and the owl made it their home, the 
 spider wove its dreary tapestry, the grass made 
 its way through the tessellated floors, the moss 
 grew over the untrodden pavement, and the ivy 
 — the fragile and creeping ivy — was now the 
 chief support of the battlements which it had 
 overrun. 
 
 Fifteen years previous to the commencement 
 of this narrative, a stranger far advanced in years 
 had suddenly arrived in the neighbourhood, and 
 had taken up his abode in the left wing, which 
 part of the building was by some chance in a 
 better state of preservation than the rest. There 
 were none to dispute his place of refuge, whose 
 principal attraction seemed to be a high tower 
 yet remaining, where he could take his astrono- 
 mical observations. It was soon ascertained that 
 he subsisted on a moderate sum of money, lodged 
 in the hands of a Lombard merchant, and that 
 his habits were eccentric and unsocial to a degree 
 that almost denoted an unsettled mind. 
 
 Francisco da Carrara was in reality one of 
 those visionaries whose imagination gave its own 
 fascination to science ; he gazed on the stars with
 
 $ FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 the eye of the sage but the heart of the poet, till 
 he deemed that to him was given the key of their 
 mysteries, and that he read on their bright scroll 
 the secrets of the future. His life had for years 
 been devoted to one mystic search — the discovery 
 of the philosopher's stone — and, like most of the 
 enthusiasts in that wild pursuit, he firmly believed 
 that every hour brought him nearer to an im- 
 mortality upon earth, which in reality drew him 
 closer and closer to the grave. Enduring poverty 
 — at least privation — unremitting in his toil at 
 the furnace, or his watch upon the night — worn, 
 withered, and become what would now be but an 
 object of pity and derision — that pale alchemist 
 was happier than many of those whose triumphs 
 over science in our day win the gold medal, and 
 the alphabet for an array to their name. He suf- 
 ficed unto himself; no mortification, that inevitable 
 result of competition, embittered even success. 
 
 I do believe there is no existence so content 
 as that whose present is engrossed by employment, 
 and whose future is filled by some strong hope, 
 the truth of which is never proved. Toil and 
 illusion are the only secrets to make life toler- 
 able, and both of these were his. 
 
 He had, too, his own small sphere of useful- 
 ness; for his advice and medicines were eagerly
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 9 
 
 sought by his neighbours, and their vague dread 
 of his mysterious pursuits and supposed spiritual 
 intercourse was merged in thankfulness for kind- 
 ness and assistance. Two lovely companions had 
 he in his solitude, his grandchildren. When he 
 first arrived, the boy was five, and the girl nearly 
 two, years of age. They were cousins; Guido 
 being the child of Carrara's son, and Francesca 
 of his daughter. More than this no one knew. 
 The nurse who arrived with him died before she 
 had become sufficiently confidential with any of 
 the peasantry round to do more than hint at 
 terrible domestic misfortunes^which had driven 
 them from their dwelling in Padua. 
 
 The old man himself n^er alluded to his 
 former life. When he went back upon the past, 
 it was to recall honours long departed, and the 
 deeds of an heroic house, whose splendour he 
 often vaguely hinted he was destined to revive. 
 There was an antique parchment, illuminated 
 with various devices illustrative of the records of 
 the Carrara family — there was the banner with 
 its red fish from which they took their name — 
 there was the celebrated Francisco, in full armour, 
 mounted on a steed whose head was covered 
 with white plumes — there was the likeness of the 
 heroic Madonna Taclie — and last, not least in 
 b2
 
 10 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 interest, the gloomy dungeons of Venice, where 
 perished the brave and youthful chieftains of 
 Padua. From this parchment, the history of the 
 house of Carrara, he delighted to hear his young 
 descendants read. Thus from childhood was their 
 imagination filled with the honours of the past 
 and the hopes of the future — hopes the more 
 magnificent, from the vague hints which at times 
 escaped from their usually taciturn parent. 
 
 The side of the Tiber on which they lived was 
 thinly inhabited ; a family of decayed nobility, 
 named Mancini, and a convent of poor nuns, 
 where the little Francesca acquired some know- 
 ledge of embroidery and of music, were their only 
 neighbours. Guid? had been entirely educated 
 by his grandfather, who applied to the task by 
 fits and starts; and in like manner the boy had 
 taken frequent fancies of instructing his cousin, 
 or, as she was always called, his sister. Guido was 
 twenty, and Francesca seventeen. The three were 
 now assembled in the old banqueting-hall, which, 
 from its state of better preservation, had become 
 their ordinary chamber. 
 
 The old man was seated in a large low arm- 
 chair, whose rich carvings of black oak were 
 almost architectural in their dimensions ; it was 
 drawn close to the huge and gloomy chimney,
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 11 
 
 where was placed a small pan of charcoal, whose 
 red glare served to shew rather than disperse the 
 gloom around. Over this was simmering a pre- 
 paration of herbs, which diffused a strong but 
 pleasant odour. A single line of light wandered 
 amid the obscurity — it came from an open door, 
 beyond which a winding staircase led to the tower 
 where Carrara spent much of his time. 
 
 Farther on, the room became lighter ; it was 
 just the contrast between youth and age. The 
 two oriel windows were especially appropriated 
 by the cousins. At the one the day was ad- 
 mitted freely, and fell on the various products 
 of the sculptor's skill ; all touched with some- 
 thing of melancholy, which in youth seems to 
 prophesy the fate it afterwards, perhaps, serves 
 to fulfil. There were casts of the Gladiator — 
 he whose native courage struggled against the 
 doom which was yet welcome — a mournful al- 
 legory of honour. The Psiobe stricken by that 
 inexorable destiny which the ancients so well 
 knew was never yet shunned nor propitiated by 
 human effort. The Antinoiis, where death is 
 in a face of youthful beauty — the shadow of the 
 tomb resting upon hope and love. Below were 
 two or three graceful urns, but wreathed with 
 cypress ; and a vase, but a serpent was coiled 
 
 P
 
 12 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 around it. In the midst was a nearly finished 
 bust, and the sculptor might well direct the eye 
 to mark the spiritual expression it wore in the 
 purple shadows of evening ; so pale, so pure, yet 
 so tender. Another moment, and that transparent 
 cheek would surely redden into blushes. The 
 hair fell in curls over the face, and was gathered 
 up behind in a knot, from which hung some rich 
 ringlets. These, however, did not conceal the 
 haughty turn of the head, erect like that of a 
 young Semiramis. The features were somewhat 
 less regular than is usual with an Italian face, 
 but their expression in the marble was full of 
 sweetness. 
 
 Over the other window an odoriferous creep- 
 ing-plant had been carefully trained, and the 
 slender leaves and clusters of pale blue flowers 
 were like a fretted arabesque on the clear and 
 amber-hued air. A few books were ranged on 
 one side ; a lute leant against the other, near 
 which was a frame half hidden by a piece of un- 
 finished embroidery. In the centre was a small 
 table, and on it was placed a vase filled with 
 roses. 
 
 The two cousins were resting on the window- 
 seat. The family likeness between them was 
 slight, though it might be traced in the Greek 

 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 13 
 
 nose and short upper lip. The youth had the 
 clear olive skin of the south, but warmed with 
 that flushed and variable crimson which is the 
 outward sign of the feverish and sensitive tempera- 
 ment — while the large dark eyes were strangely 
 mournful for one whose years and sorrows had 
 been so few. The girl was without a tinge of 
 colour, but very fair ; the soft white of the Parian 
 marble strongly contrasted with hair of the most 
 ebon black — at first, the long and shadowy lashes 
 made the downcast eye seem also dark, but when 
 raised it was of that intense and violet blue, so 
 rarely seen but in children, or in April skies. 
 There was more energy, and therefore more hope, 
 in her face than in that of Guido. The mind 
 depends more on the body than we like to admit 
 — and Francesca's childhood had been unbroken 
 by the weakness and pain which had so often 
 stretched Guido on a bed of sickness, beside which 
 only affection could* have hoped — affection, that 
 believes not in death, until it be present in the 
 house. 
 
 It is as truly as it is beautifully said, that 
 M perfect love casteth out fear" even in our frail 
 nature; and the love between those two orphans 
 was as perfect as human love could be. At no 
 sacrifice for the one could the other have hesi-
 
 14 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 tated, and no sacrifice would it have seemed — 
 the most entire devotion would have appeared a 
 simple act of their ordinary affection. Guido 
 knew that the image of another was graven on 
 the inmost heart of each. With that knowledge 
 came no coldness — no distrust — but firmer re- 
 liance and deeper confidence. 
 
 Again music rose on the air ; this time they 
 really heard the convent chimes. Francesca rose 
 from her seat, and took her veil. 
 
 " Shall I go with you, dearest V 
 
 " Not now ; I will tell you all, to-morrow," 
 was the almost inaudible reply. Both turned 
 from the door, though each took a different path. 
 
 At first, Guido's step was slow, and he walked 
 as one absorbed in mournful thought ; but at a 
 turn in his path, which commanded the country 
 below, his face brightenea, and he sprung on his 
 way, as if every moment of his time were pre- 
 cious. He soon arrived at the villa of the Mancini, 
 where his evenings were usually spent; how much 
 more cheerful was it than his own home ! 
 
 The Marchese was, as usual, closeted in his 
 own chamber, where, since his wife's death at 
 least, he enjoyed that indolent quiet in which 
 he delighted. His daughters were assembled in 
 a large hall, opening on the garden; the two
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 15 
 
 younger were seated by a cage of rare foreign 
 birds from the golden isles of Canary, half- ca- 
 ressing, half-teasing them — the two elder were 
 standing beneath the verandah, seemingly in ear- 
 nest discourse. It was easy to recognise in the 
 tallest, the original of the bust; but either the 
 look she bent on the young sculptor was not such 
 as she often wore, or else he had given its softness 
 from his own heart, for scorn was native to those 
 features, and disdain familiar to her keen and 
 falcon-like eyes. 
 
 " Ah, no!" said her sister, a fair, timid-look- 
 ing girl, who though in reality the elder by two 
 years, yet appeared the junior; "I should like a 
 home like a nest, in some quiet valley. Do you 
 remember the fairy tale of the two lovers, who, 
 surrounded by enemies, were saved from the terri- 
 ble giant who pursued the princess, by being 
 turned into doves ? How happily must they have 
 dwelt in the greenwood together !" 
 
 " Yes ; hunting for worms or barleycorns, 
 hatching their eggs, and trembling at every school- 
 boy that came near. Give me the vest glittering 
 with jewels ; the high place at the tournament, the 
 gaze of every knight turned upon me, till even he 
 who fought against the one wearing my colours, 
 felt, as he laid lance in rest, that the strife was
 
 16 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 vain ; how could he combat in honour of that 
 beauty which his own eyes saw was far surpassed?'' 
 
 " And he who wore your colours?" 
 
 " That five hundred should be proud to do; 
 the best and proudest of the land. Pity it were 
 for starry eyes not to emulate the stars, and shine 
 on many. I own one lover is difficult to manage ; 
 for to one lover you may have yielded more of 
 your heart than I care to surrender of mine. But 
 the many — why, I should hold them as we do 
 yonder branch of roses — we like their general 
 effect, and care not if one drop off, so that another 
 supply its place. Fancy now a lighted hall, and 
 a group of white-plumed cavaliers ; I would have 
 a smile for one, a sigh for a second, a frown for a 
 third." 
 
 " And in the meantime, till these honours 
 arrive, you have me to rehearse with, and Guido 
 Carrara to practise upon." 
 
 u Nonsense !" 
 
 " Yes, to you, who have no stronger motive 
 than amusement — no deeper feeling than vanity ; 
 but, Marie, you are cruel to trifle with, a love so 
 earnest, so devoted " 
 
 " That you would like to be its object. Pray 
 take him — you are very welcome ; ah, yonder he 
 comes ! now I will be disinterested, confide to
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 17 
 
 him the passion he has inspired, protest against 
 being your rival, and generously resign him." 
 
 " The sacrifice would be too great, for there is 
 no one here to supply his place," interrupted her 
 sister, somewhat more angrily than the occasion 
 required : but at this moment Guido ascended 
 the steps which led to the little terrace where they 
 now stood. 
 
 " We have been expecting you some time," 
 said Henrietta, kindly. 
 
 " I saw you in eager discourse, as I ap- 
 proached." 
 
 " We were," replied Marie, " employed in 
 aerial architecture — the future for our ground- 
 work ; I was fancying a lover for myself." 
 
 " A lover!" answered Guido, in a low and 
 altered voice. 
 
 " Ay, such a lover as these degenerate times 
 are little likely to produce ; one who, as the 
 princely Medici, or the gallant Doria, were the 
 glory of their cities, would be the glory of his. 
 One to whom superiority was a birth-right, and 
 success a comrade ; brave, generous, aspiring ; 
 one to whom nothing could seem impossible. 
 
 " And what," exclaimed the youth, gazing 
 upon her, " could be impossible with such inspi- 
 ration 1 Love lends its own strength to the effort
 
 18 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 it excites. I have ever deemed it was for love's 
 sweet sake that Columbus sought and found the 
 bright world so long parted from her paler sister, 
 that even tradition had forgotten the cause. What 
 but some delicious dream, whose hues rose only 
 dazzling upon solitude, made him linger on the 
 twilight coast? When he marked the waves 
 swallow up the leaf and bough that floated upon 
 them — what looked he on the waters to see, but 
 one beloved face mirrored by his fancy ? Deem 
 you not, in after- years, his glorious triumph 
 brought a dearer joy than pride — was not that 
 sunny hemisphere a worthy offering to the proud- 
 est beauty in Castile?'' 
 
 Henrietta had left her sister's side, whose eyes 
 sank beneath those of Guido — and she now wore 
 the look of the exquisite marble he had fashioned 
 into softness. There are some moments, the hues 
 of which are like those on the wing of a butterfly — 
 a touch brushes them away. There are words to 
 paint the misery of love, but none to paint its 
 happiness ; that childish, glad, and confiding time 
 to which youth gave its buoyancy, and hope its 
 colours. Its language repeated, ever seems exag- 
 gerated or foolish ; albeit there are none who have 
 not thought such sounds " honey-sweet" in their 
 time. The truth is, we never make for others 
 
 •
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 19 
 
 the allowance we make for ourselves ; and we 
 should deny even our own words, could we hear 
 them spoken by another. We will therefore 
 leave the young Italian to paint the future as the 
 imagination ever paints. Troth but it was fitting 
 speech for the moonlight : moonlight, the bright 
 and clear, but the cold — which, unlike the sun, 
 opens no flowers, and ripens no fruit.
 
 20 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 "Farewell! 
 For in that word — that fatal word — howe'er 
 We promise, hope, believe — there breathes despair." 
 
 Byron. 
 
 # 
 
 The history of a minute — why it would give a 
 bird's-eye view of every possible variety in human 
 existence. Wonderful the many events that are 
 happening together — life and death ; joy and sor- 
 row ; the great and the mean ; the common and 
 the rare ; good and evil ; are all in the record of 
 that brief segment of time. 
 
 We left the moonlight shining on the bright 
 eye and the crimsoning blush — we proceed to 
 where it fell on the glittering lash and the pale 
 and tearful cheek. There was something cheerful 
 in the scene which we have just left — the window 
 opening into the garden-room filled with many 
 gladdening signs of daily amusement and occu- 
 pation, and the silence broken by the light laugh 
 and mirthful tones of the children who were 
 watching the birds. But here all was mournful 
 and desolate — for nothing is more mournful than
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 21 
 
 man's work and man's skill going to ruin for 
 want of man's care — and nothing is more desolate 
 than the moss and the green weed choking the 
 fountain, and half hiding the fallen column. 
 
 The silver waters of the spring had long since 
 disappeared, but there still were left a few of the 
 Corinthian pillars, some stretched on the ground 
 and overgrown with creeping-plants, while two or 
 three yet remained erect, and shewed how graceful 
 the whole must have been. There was a frag- 
 ment, too, of broken wall, on which were seated 
 Francesca and a young cavalier, one whose long 
 fair hair and clear blue eye spoke of a more 
 northern clime than her own. 
 
 " Let my father once see you, "urged the youth, 
 " and I am sure of his consent ; we will then 
 return hither, where you will be the dearer for 
 your brief absence; your grandfather will renounce 
 his strange antipathy to my country in witnessing 
 your happiness — and — for the stars shine as 
 brightly on Evelyn Abbey as they do on yonder 
 old tower — who knows but the philosopher's stone 
 may be discovered in England ?" 
 
 Francesca let him speak on ; she was happy at 
 least while she listened; but silence was no an- 
 swer, for here, at least, it gave no consent.
 
 22 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 " You forget the other side," said she ; "what 
 if Sir Robert Evelyn refuse to receive for his 
 daughter the unknown and portionless Italian ; 
 how shall I brook to be the first cause of differ- 
 ence between a father and son, to whom the 
 averted look and the harsh word have been 
 hitherto unknown ?" 
 
 The young Englishman gazed for a moment 
 tenderly on her beautiful face. 
 
 " The averted look, the harsh word, such are 
 not for you, Francesca !" 
 
 " Methinks," returned the Italian, " they 
 would be but my fitting reward. How could your 
 father expect a daughter's love from one who had 
 left her own in his old age ; left him, too, without 
 his blessing ; nay, without his knowledge ; his 
 solitude embittered by anxiety for one who had 
 no pity on his age, no memory for his care. I 
 have heard, Evelyn, and have often read, in the 
 tales of my own land, how, for her strange and 
 sudden passion, a maiden has left home and 
 parents, forgetting how her infancy was watched, 
 and her youth cherished. So could not I. Few 
 and feeble are the steps which my father must 
 measure towards the grave ; but during those few, 
 I must be at his side, Evelyn. How holy the
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 23 
 
 claim, when age asks from youth but a little 
 time, and a little tendance to smooth the pass- 
 age to the tomb!" 
 
 Both were silent — a pause which was broken 
 by the convent-clock striking nine, 
 
 " It is late !" exclaimed Francesca, forcing a 
 smile. "I must not stay here talking of duty — 
 and all my household ones awaiting me ; you 
 do not know what an important person I am at 
 home !" but the effort was too much, and dropping 
 her head on Evelyn's arm, she gave way to a 
 burst of weeping. 
 
 u Look up, love," at length said her com- 
 panion; " I would fain link the memory of our 
 parting with something less earthly than word 
 or gift. Do you see yonder large clear star near 
 the moon, — it shines here as I have seen it shine 
 a thousand times in my own island — let it be a 
 token between us. When, dim and cloudy, its place 
 is not seen in the sky — we will be sorrowful, and 
 think even so are we far away and hidden from 
 each other ; but when it looks forth rejoicing and 
 glorious, it shall be unto us as a sign and as a 
 hope, and we will, believe in a bright future and 
 a fair destiny." 
 
 " I shall watch it to-morrow night," whispered 
 Francesca.
 
 24 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 A few more hurried words — blessings scarce 
 noted at the time, but dearly remembered after- 
 wards, and they parted. The ilex boughs closed 
 behind the light form of the maiden, while the 
 young Englishman sprang rapidly down the nar- 
 row path leading to the inn whence he was to 
 start on the morrow by daybreak. 
 
 It matters little to trace the rapidity of the 
 land journey, or the monotony of the sea voyage — 
 alike unmarked by adventure. Robert Evelyn 
 landed at Southampton, and immediately procured 
 horses for himself and two servants ; for his father's 
 house lay some twenty miles inland. 
 
 " I would have you look to your pistols, young 
 gentleman," said the landlord. Robert stared at 
 such advice in England ; but the many suspicious- 
 looking individuals and groups that he passed, made 
 him rejoice at having followed it. It was obvious 
 that their bold and prepared bearing kept more 
 than one party at bay. 
 
 Well known as every inch of the country was 
 to Evelyn, he paused more than once to gaze 
 upon its unfamiliar appearance. Fields which he 
 remembered yellow with the waving corn, lay fal- 
 low, though the month was June ; and one or two 
 that bore signs of a luxuriant crop, were trampled 
 down, and the wheat was rotting on the ground.
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 25 
 
 The hedges were full of gaps, made in the most 
 reckless manner ; and the meadows,* which had 
 evidently not been mown, were either quite bare, 
 or covered with irregular patches of rank, coarse 
 grass, whose vegetation was exhausting itself. 
 Many of the cottages were deserted, and the 
 thatch blackening with neglect and damp ; the 
 lattices gone from their frames, the pear-trees 
 loosened from the walls, and their branches, grey 
 with moss, and heavy with leaves, not fruit, trail- 
 ing upon the grass-grown walks, told that the de- 
 solation was no work of yesterday. A few dwell- 
 ings of the very lowest order were yet inhabited, 
 but at the riders' approach the doors were hastily 
 closed, and not a creature could be seen, even at 
 the windows. " And yet this is market-day !" and 
 the traveller remembered what a cheerful scene the 
 road used to present — from the substantial yeo- 
 man on his good brown cob, to the peasant girls, 
 with baskets and red cloaks, whose voices and 
 laughter were heard long before themselves were 
 seen. Now the chief occupiers of the path were a 
 few meagre cows, picking up a scanty subsistence. 
 
 A sudden turn in the road brought them oppo- 
 site a spot where Robert had passed many a happy 
 day. Involuntarily he drew his horse to a stand, 
 and remained gazing with speechless dismay on 
 
 vol. i. c
 
 26 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 the scene before him. The house had been burned 
 to the ground : the mouldering walls of the 
 lower floor, and huge heaps of ashes, from which 
 the weeds were beginning to spring up, were all 
 that remained of the former hospitable dwelling. 
 The garden, which sloped down to the highway, 
 was utterly destroyed, and the skeletons of two 
 large trees stood charred and blackened from the 
 effects of fire. Robert was roused from his trance 
 by a hand rudely laid on his bridle-rein, while a 
 hoarse voice exclaimed, 
 
 " So, my young cavalier, — regaling yourself 
 with a sight of the ruin you and yours have 
 wrought. Speak, — your name, and business 
 here?" 
 
 Evelyn had been so lost in contemplation of 
 the melancholy scene before him, that he had not 
 observed the approach of a detachment of cavalry, 
 by whom he and his attendants were now sur- 
 rounded. He looked upon the officer, whose hand 
 was yet upon his rein; but the idea which pre- 
 sented itself was too improbable. " The son of 
 Sir Robert Evelyn," said he, after a moment, " can- 
 not be an intruder in these parts!" 
 
 " Sir Robert Evelyn is a good man and true : 
 his son is welcome — let him pass !" 
 
 The voice — harsh, changed as it was — con-
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 27 
 
 firmed Robert's first suspicion ; though he might 
 well hesitate to recognise the cheerful, cordial 
 friend of yore, in the cold, pale, and stern-looking 
 horseman before him. " Surely you will not let 
 me pass," said the youth, " without some token 
 of remembrance, Mr. Johnstone?" 
 
 " Call me not," exclaimed the officer fiercely, 
 " by the appellations of the ungodly! My name 
 is now, ' Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord : I 
 will repay!' and am not I His instrument on 
 earth? Ride on, ride on, young man — spare 
 neither whip nor spur ; for the aged is even now 
 in the valley of the shadow of death. Robert 
 Evelyn," added he, in a softened and kinder tone, 
 " must be sorely changed, if he speed not, that his 
 father may bless him ere he die." 
 
 Evelyn waited no answer, but rode on; and 
 the clang of heavy horse-tramp was faint in the 
 distance before his companion recovered from his 
 surprise. " My father ill!" thought he, — " he 
 hinted not at this in his letter :— ah, he knew the 
 wish he expressed for my return was enough, and 
 he was fain to spare my anxiety. Ill — dying, 
 and I not there!" 
 
 His horse was urged to its utmost speed, and 
 in one hour arrived, covered with foam, at the 
 abbey gate. It was barred, and he could hear
 
 28 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 within the measured step of the sentinel ; his 
 challenge was, however, instantly answered, and 
 the courtyard was filled with domestics, all eager 
 with words of welcome. 
 
 M My father?" exclaimed he. 
 
 " Better — much better," was the steward's 
 reply. 
 
 Robert's eyes swam with tears ; and he could 
 only wave with his hand an answer to the many 
 greetings around. He ran forwards to the library, 
 and in another moment was in his father's arms.
 
 29 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 So we began to set every thing to rights." 
 
 Ordinary Plans. 
 
 " Changes, many, indeed, and sad changes," said 
 Sir Robert Evelyn, " have chanced since you left 
 us. I have seen our peaceful England, on whose 
 shore warfare had become but a dark tradition, 
 or a gallant hope to the young and adventurous 
 spirits who sought for honour abroad — I have 
 seen it become the field of deadly battle, where 
 the father raised his hand against the son, and 
 the son against the father. I have seen the beacon 
 blazing instead of the Christmas hearth ; and the 
 ivy, which for more than a century had wreathed 
 undisturbed round these old battlements, has been 
 pretty well cut away by the musketry during the 
 last siege." 
 
 " Siege, my father! and I not at your side!" 
 exclaimed Robert reproachfully. 
 
 " In truth, dear child, I wished not for you.
 
 30 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 My lot has been cast in troubled times, and glad 
 should I have been to have saved you from the 
 responsibility of that decision which I have found 
 a heavy burden. In private conduct you are 
 called upon to act according to your conscience, 
 and your guide is infallible. In public you act 
 according to your ability, and, God knows! that 
 is often insufficient to decide amid conflicting 
 events. How differently, at different times, do we 
 view the same things ! Now, who can admit this, 
 yet not distrust his judgment? I had hoped that, 
 our troubles being ended, you might on your 
 return to England have seen no cause for hesi- 
 tation ; but such is the unsettled state of affairs, 
 that, alas ! expediency seems now your mean but 
 only guide." 
 
 " Methinks, my father, I need do little but 
 follow in your steps, and ask for your advice." 
 
 " Alas, Robert ! it is for the aged, they say, 
 to give advice ; the aged, who, perforce, must 
 know its inefficiency — for advice to be useful it 
 must suit the circumstances ; and when do cir- 
 cumstances fall out according to expectation ? 
 When I stood by the side of Hampden, contending 
 against a heavy oppression, and for an undeniable 
 right, who could have thought that his refusal to
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 31 
 
 pay that twenty shillings ship-money would be the 
 first act of a resistance that was destined to arouse 
 a whole nation, and kindle civil war from one end 
 of our island to the other?" 
 
 " Yet, surely," interrupted his listener, " you 
 do not repent of one of the noblest acts to which 
 patriotism ever stimulated an individual ?" 
 
 " Never! during the many troubles that fol- 
 lowed the scenes of bloodshed that ensued, I have 
 looked back to the pure and honourable motives, 
 and to the enlightened views, with which our re- 
 sistance commenced, in a spirit of great consola- 
 tion and the perfect conviction of its necessity. 
 I have never doubted for a moment but that we 
 acted for the best. The benefit has not, as yet, 
 been equal to the evil ; we have not yet suc- 
 ceeded to our hope — liberty is still insecure, 
 and England is still rent by small factions, dis- 
 tracted by foolish bigotries, and now at the will 
 of one man; yet the good seed has been sown. 
 We have shewn what opposition may effect, and 
 what individual exertions may achieve. We have 
 awakened men to the knowledge of their rights; 
 and though for a while the energy of this nation 
 may sleep after its fierce struggle, a lesson has 
 been given which may never be forgotten. The
 
 32 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 great names of our day will long be the watch- 
 words of England's freedom. We have left be- 
 hind us a legacy of right, which will accumulate. 
 Still, I look around with disappointment. Judi- 
 ciously avoiding the name of king, Cromwell 
 rules us with a power far exceeding that of the 
 monarch we dethroned." 
 
 " But why," asked the younger Evelyn, " yield 
 to Cromwell, when you resisted Charles ?" 
 
 " From exhaustion, and the force of individual 
 character. Cromwell is the master-spirit of his 
 age ; he has the bodily courage which inspires in 
 the field, and the moral courage which sways in 
 the council. Deeply imbued with the prevailing 
 fanaticism, what would be to another an obstacle 
 is to him a motive. He is not deterred by its 
 absurdity, for he perceives it not ; he is not dis- 
 gusted by its pretensions, for they are his own. 
 Like all great leaders in political convulsions, he 
 has reached its high places by flinging himself, 
 with all the force of powerful talents, into the 
 errors, the passions, and the prejudices of his time. 
 But, however his power may have been w r on, all 
 must allow that it is most worthily worn. During 
 the brief period of his vigorous administration, 
 how altered is the position of England ! Security
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 33 
 
 at home, and respect abroad, these are the first- 
 fruits of Cromwell's sway. The miserable state 
 of the country around, the consequence of the late 
 rising, sufficiently shews its folly." 
 
 " Was Mr. Johnstone's house then destroyed?" 
 " No, long before; that was the cause of my 
 taking up arms. It is foolishness to say, that no 
 private feelings shall actuate us in a public cause. 
 I had resolved on a neutral position ; I deemed 
 that what influence I might possess would be best 
 exerted in mediation : but this outrage put aside 
 all my cooler plans. Johnstone's relatives were 
 more puritanically given than himself; and one 
 of them, a preacher, was residing with him, when 
 a detachment of Goring's dragoons demanded, or 
 rather took shelter there for the night. Their 
 profane jesting and loud oaths called forth a 
 rebuke from the saint, which was received with 
 the utmost contumely. Johnstone deemed he was 
 called upon to resent the insults offered to his 
 guest ; one word led to others ; swords were 
 drawn, and a fierce contest ensued. Ere morn- 
 ing, his house was burnt to the ground ; his two 
 children perished in the flames, and his own life 
 was only preserved by the fidelity of a servant, who 
 bore him insensible to a hovel near. The next 
 day he was brought hither, and that very evening 
 c2
 
 34 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 I too was favoured with a visit from the same 
 regiment. But they found the closed gate and 
 the loaded gun ; and their attack was beaten off 
 with considerable loss. Since then my military 
 career has been tolerably active." 
 
 " And I not at your side !" said Robert, 
 bitterly. 
 
 " Nay, my child," replied his father, in a sad 
 and earnest tone ; " never lament that you have 
 had no part in civil war ; it is terrible to be asked 
 for quarter in your native tongue, and yet spare 
 not. To know that the corn-field over which you 
 hurry in pursuit of a flying enemy has been sown 
 by your near neighbour — to see the sky redden 
 at midnight, and fear lest the crimson blaze arise 
 from your own home — to watch the desolation of 
 familiar things — to become acquainted with waste 
 and want, and worse, with the crime and reckless- 
 ness, their inevitable consequences — and then re- 
 member how brief a period has elapsed since such 
 things seemed impossible in the land." 
 
 " But must the blessing ever be bought by 
 the curse ? Is civil war, then, the fearful sacrifice 
 demanded by liberty?" 
 
 " Not so," replied Sir Robert j " England's 
 next struggle will be bloodless. We have left 
 one great experience, that the struggle which is to
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 35 
 
 be decided by the sword will bring repentance for 
 the strife. Surely men will learn from the events 
 of our time, how much to dread excitement, and 
 to eschew passion. Opinion should guide in pub- 
 lic affairs, not feeling. Opinion is grounded on 
 circumstance, on observation, and on reflection. 
 Feeling acts from impulse, which sees but half. 
 Excitement leads to enthusiasm, that moral intoxi- 
 cation, whose effects seem incredible to the sober, 
 while the influence which produces the extrava- 
 gance appears more extraordinary than the act 
 itself. The demon of fanaticism was the shape 
 which it took with us ; and verily, what with reli- 
 gious republicans, harmonists, quakers, fifth-mo- 
 narchy men, presbyterians, and the reign of the 
 saints upon earth, it needs the strong hand of a 
 Cromwell to reduce the spiritual chaos to any 
 sort of order." 
 
 The conversation, which had been continued 
 in the soft dimness of a summer evening, was 
 now interrupted by the appearance of supper. 
 Evelyn was struck with the alteration in his 
 father's habits ; it had been so constant a rule 
 for the household to sup together. il It keeps up 
 that feeling of attachment which is the best bond 
 of society, a humane and frequent intercourse," 
 was wont to be a frequent exclamation ; " may
 
 36 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 the rich and the poor never dwell so for apart 
 as to be in equal ignorance of each other's real 
 condition !" But as the light fell on Sir Robert's 
 emaciated figure, and wan though still fine 
 face, no longer animated by the joy of his son's 
 return^ the ravage of disease became visible ; and 
 it was no marvel that bodily weakness shunned 
 exertion. 
 
 " To-morrow,'' said the invalid, " you shall 
 take my place at the board ; to-night I cannot 
 spare you." 
 
 Perhaps there is no moment when beloved ob- 
 jects are so much beloved, as on the return from 
 a long absence. When the thousand fears for 
 their health, their safety, and their welfare, have 
 all • been proved to be vain ; while the reaction 
 from their depression is so exhilarating. When 
 the many merits which fancy has added to their 
 own, are all warm from the thought ; all fresh, 
 too, with the gloss of novelty, untarnished with 
 recent differences, and unworn by daily use. How 
 pleasant the hurry of their arrival, and the many 
 preparations to receive them ! In winter, the 
 warmest seat by the fire ; in summer, the coolest 
 by the open lattice. Then the supper, where all 
 former likings are so carefully remembered ; the 
 cheerful flutter of spirits, the disposition to talk,
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 37 
 
 the still greater desire to listen, the flushed cheek, 
 the eager yet glistening eye ; and — for the future 
 will ever intrude upon the mortal present — the 
 delight of thinking, " we shall still be together 
 to-morrow." Assuredly meeting after absence is 
 one of— ah, no ! — it is life's most delicious feeling.
 
 38 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Look on this picture, and on this — 
 The counterfeit presentment of two brothers." 
 
 Hamlet. 
 
 It is wonderful how some words ever were in- 
 vented, for they express what does not exist — 
 confidence is among the number ; confidence is 
 what no human being ever really had in another. 
 Robert Evelyn felt his heart swell, and the tears 
 swim in his eyes, at the touching tenderness 
 with which his father received him; and yet 
 he could not force himself to rely on that ten- 
 derness as a guarantee for consent to a mar- 
 riage — now the horizon which bounded his future 
 of happiness. He shrank from mentioning his 
 pledge to Francesca. It is a painful thing both 
 to parent and child, when the one must own, 
 and the other must hear, the avowal of a love 
 which is dearer, than all old ties, and all former 
 affection. There was as much delicacy as distrust 
 in his hesitation. He wandered thoughtfully in
 
 FEANCESCA CAEEAEA. 39 
 
 the plaisance adjoining the house, planning, as 
 we all plan, circumstances which never arrive ; 
 and framing speeches which, when the time comes, 
 we never make. His musings were, interrupted 
 by a summons from Sir Robert, whom he found 
 seated in a small oratory that had been his 
 mother's favourite room. It was panelled in black 
 oak, but on each panel the arms of the family 
 were painted in bright colours. The mantel-piece 
 was of great rarity, being pure white marble, 
 like an arch wreathed around with palm branches ; 
 and above it was a Venetian mirror, set in a 
 silver frame, and surmounted by a dove with 
 outspread wings. A large picture hung opposite 
 the fire-place ; it represented Sir Robert and Lady 
 Evelyn, and had been painted soon after, their 
 marriage. He was dressed in a rich suit of purple 
 velvet, a short cloak laced with gold, and his 
 hair flowing down in waving curls, with a brow 
 open as the morning ; a firm, compressed lip, and 
 an eye full of spirit and intelligence. The robe 
 of the lady was of pearl-white satin, and her 
 bright golden tresses played in small corkscrew 
 ringlets round her face. Her hands, remarkable 
 for their delicate size and colour, were filled with 
 flowers, her fondness for which amounted to a 
 passion — if that feverish word may be applied to
 
 40 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 a love so gentle and innocent. The portrait was 
 far more like the young cavalier just entering the 
 chamber than the original who sat opposite, watch- 
 ing his once resemblance with a fixed and mourn- 
 ful gaze. 
 
 " My youth is renewed,'' said the old man, 
 taking his son's hand ; " but draw near your seat, 
 for my voice is weak, and I have yet much to say." 
 Robert placed a low stool beside, but his heart 
 was too full to speak ; for daylight shewed more 
 forcibly than ever the alteration in his parent. 
 " Your brother is my last and my greatest sorrow. 
 He was to have joined you in Germany, but he 
 loitered at Paris, and my first letter from my 
 forgetful child was a confession of heavy debts 
 incurred at the gaming-table. My remittance and 
 my remonstrance were alike unanswered ; and I 
 heard no more of Francis, till some prisoners, 
 dragoons in Goring's regiment, were brought 
 hither — he was one of them. Great God ! but 
 that my arm was then disabled, we should have 
 met face to face in the battle ; and who may 
 say on whose head the sin of blood might have 
 rested ? With some difficulty I obtained a pardon ; 
 but, weary of the restraint which circumstances 
 rendered inevitable, he again left my roof; and 
 at this moment I know not how to find my wil-
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 41 
 
 fill child, even though the summons were to my 
 death-bed." 
 
 Robert's first impulse was to frame excuses 
 for his brother ; but what could he say, he who 
 from childhood had so well known his reckless 
 and selfish temper? We talk of the influence of 
 education — in what does it consist? Here were 
 two with the same blood flowing in their veins, 
 born under the same roof, nursed by the same 
 mother, play-mates in the same nursery, sur- 
 rounded by the same scenes, pursuing the same 
 studies, subject to the same rules, rewarded by 
 the same indulgences — never till the age of eighteen 
 having been parted for a day ; and yet were these 
 two as opposite as if they had never known one 
 circumstance in common. Robert was grave, 
 thoughtful, and affectionate ; with the shyness 
 always attendant on deep feeling, and" the sensi- 
 tiveness which is ever the best guard against 
 wounding that of others ■ — such have known the 
 suffering too well to inflict it ; — enthusiastic in his 
 admirations, imaginative in his tastes, and there- 
 fore solitary in his habits. 
 
 Frank had made love to all the pretty girls 
 in the neighbourhood, while Robert was dreaming, 
 in the summer glades of the New Forest, of the 
 ideal mistress, whose perfection was poetry. High
 
 42 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 toned in all his sentiments, from native generosity 
 of disposition ; he was strict in principle, from 
 habit ; he was too good and too honourable him- 
 self not to appreciate the uprightness and sincerity 
 of his father. Francis, on the contrary, was lively, 
 false, and uncertain ; his own pleasure, interest, or 
 even ease, were ever uppermost in his mind. It 
 was not that he would not be kind, but it seldom 
 came into his head to be so. That certain sign of 
 intense selfishness — he never gave any one credit 
 for a good motive, for he believed no one better 
 than himself. He had an exaggerated opinion 
 of his own talents ; but his idea of ability was 
 deceit. As there are some naturally deficient in 
 the power of computation, others in an ear for 
 harmony, so Francis Evelyn was utterly devoid 
 of truth — he neither understood its moral beauty 
 nor its actual utility. He felt no shame at detec- 
 tion — he only envied the discoverer's shrewdness, 
 or his luck in finding a clew. He would neglect 
 your wishes, wound your feelings, — partly, though, 
 from very ignorance of their existence ; while he 
 would do even mean things to win a momentary 
 applause. Robert was proud, but of extraneous 
 circumstances — of his ancient lineage, his noble 
 father ; while the vanity of Francis centred in 
 himself — he was vain of his person, his dress, or
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 43 
 
 any thing that was his. He would have felt none 
 of his brother's sensitiveness in revealing the 
 dearest and deepest secret of his heart ; none of 
 his remorseful fear of giving pain to his father. 
 
 Who has not observed in the daily intercourse 
 of domestic life, that the very subject we have been 
 striving to avoid, or planning to disclose, is sure 
 to defeat our best-laid scheme, and start up before 
 us when least expected ? Thus it happened in 
 the present case. 
 
 " I had hoped," said Sir Robert, turning sud- 
 denly from the window which commanded one 
 of those wide panoramic views where hill and 
 dale, dwelling, heath, and road, mingle toge- 
 ther, " to have drawn our old alliance with 
 yonder house yet closer; but individual hatreds 
 are the legacies left by civil war — strange how 
 public can be stronger than private feeling ! The 
 play-mate of my boyhood, the companion of my 
 first campaign in the Low Countries, he who 
 wedded with my sister, is now worse than a 
 stranger ; we meet in the highway, and each 
 passes on the other side. The present is embit- 
 tered, not softened, by the memories of the past. 
 Lord Maltravers has maintained an ostensibly 
 neutral position ; but all his predilections are in 
 favour of the cavaliers. The consciousness that
 
 44 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 he has not himself acted upon his principles, must 
 create an invidious sentiment towards those who 
 have. Alas, what slight cause will suffice to break 
 up the friendship of years ! First came the disputed 
 opinion, next the angry, then the cold word. 
 Gradually we sought to avoid meeting, silence 
 became habitual, and the epithets ' fanatic' and 
 'malignant' took the place of friend and brother. 
 Yet, though the faces of his children are turned 
 away when we meet, I see how very fair they 
 are. I never look to the turrets of Avonleigh 
 Abbey without somewhat of the kindliness of for- 
 mer days ; and I yet cling, Robert, to the thought 
 of a union between one of those blue-eyed girls 
 and yourself." 
 
 " Not so, my father," replied the youth ; and 
 he hurriedly commenced his avowal. His voice 
 grew firmer as he proceeded, he remembered the 
 worthiness of the Italian maiden, and was encou- 
 raged by the affectionate interest with which his 
 father listened to the narrative, which was only in- 
 terrupted by a gentle sign of attention, or a kind 
 look. A feeling of disappointment might arise in 
 Sir Robert's mind as he heard this unexpected 
 confession, but he was not one to weigh ambition 
 against affection. He knew how, in his own case, 
 the united heart had made the happy home ; and
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 45 
 
 he was sufficiently aware of the strength and depth 
 of his son's character to know that his would he 
 no transitory attachment. What, then, remained 
 but pardon and approval ? both of which were 
 instantly given. 
 
 " I lament that your Francesca should be a 
 Catholic, chiefly from the circumstances which 
 surround us. .1 have long since known that it is 
 the faith, not the creed, which imports in religious 
 belief. But in these days of fanaticism, that harsh 
 and violent spirit is abroad, when men clothe their 
 own angry passions in the garb of righteousness, 
 and call persecution vindicating the honour of 
 God. Alas ! what must be their idea of the Al- 
 mighty power, when they deem it needs assistance 
 from the arm of flesh ?" 
 
 But his son was too happy to heed aught but 
 the present : to a naturally sincere person, the op- 
 pression of concealment is intolerable. 
 
 " My dearest father, you then forgive me?" 
 
 " What, my sage brother suing for forgive- 
 ness? — the very time for me to plead as well." 
 And a young cavalier, who had entered unper- 
 ceived, dropt on one knee beside. 
 
 " Francis !" they both exclaimed in equal 
 surprise at the change in, and the suddenness of, 
 his appearance. He had ever affected great
 
 46 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 gaiety and richness of apparel, to mark his disdain 
 of the Roundheads, whose custom was the reverse; 
 and his bright auburn hair had been carefully 
 trained in long love-locks. Now he wore a sad- 
 coloured cloak and a dark-grey suit, and his hair 
 clipped close to the head, still, however, shewing a 
 most unorthodox tendency to curl ; but his whole 
 attire and bearing was in strict conformity with 
 the severe and grave fashion of the period. 
 
 " Nay, I will increase your wonder/' said he, 
 laughing at their evident surprise; " I come from 
 Whitehall, and trust, my dear father, you will 
 approve of my conversion as much as if it had 
 been your own work instead of Sir Harry Vane's, 
 with whom I came over from Paris. He desired 
 me to greet you well in the name of the Lord," 
 added he, in a snuffling tone. 
 
 " I understand this disguise, for such I can- 
 not but consider it, as little as I approve of this 
 mockery." 
 
 " Nay, dearest father," returned the youth 
 caressingly, " blame me not that I have seen the 
 folly of leaguing with your enemies, and that a 
 little experience has taught me the necessity of 
 conforming to general usage ; and surely to my 
 partial parent I may indulge in the relief of 
 a laugh at the solemn sanctity which I know he
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 47 
 
 himself holds but lightly. You drew your sword 
 for higher motives than that hats should be worn 
 without feathers, and sermons preached without 
 surplices." 
 
 Sir Robert might have said, that if there be 
 one habit more than another the dry-rot of all 
 that is high and generous in youth, it is the habit 
 of ridicule. The lip ever ready with the sneer, 
 the eye ever on the watch for the ludicrous, must 
 always dwell upon the external ; and most of 
 what is good and great ever lies below the sur- 
 face. But, rejoiced at his child's return, he had 
 little inclination to moralise ; he was now again 
 under his own roof, and he trusted, as affection 
 ever trusts, that the future would make him all 
 he could wish. Ah, the future ! the dreaming, 
 the deceiving future, which promises every thing, 
 and performs nothing — what would the present be 
 without it?
 
 48 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 And Love, that leaves where'er he lights 
 A burned or broken heart behind." 
 
 Moore. 
 
 Both the brothers were early risers, for Robert 
 longed to wander through the old familiar scenes, 
 and Francis had so many plans to carry into exe- 
 cution, that it was impossible to begin them too 
 soon. Breakfast was hurried over, for the day was 
 too bright for in-doors discourse ; the elastic spirits 
 born of the glad clear atmosphere required motion, 
 and the look wandered after the sunshine. At 
 first they walked rapidly ; the glorious morning 
 caused, as it were, its own neglect — they rather felt 
 than saw the beauty around them ; but the buoyant 
 step, the breath drawn lightly, and the freshness 
 of eye and colour, shewed its influences were upon 
 them. 
 
 It was now the first week in June, and a late 
 spring had kept its beauty till all but merged
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 49 
 
 in summer. The steep and narrow path which 
 they were threading wound down the side of a 
 sloping heath, covered with the furze, now in full 
 blolsom — a sea of gold, with wave-like shadows, 
 as the wind bent them to and fro. The golden 
 expanse was only varied by knots of the green 
 snake-grass, with its slender and feathery leaves 
 — the most graceful of herbs. A peculiar perfume — 
 for the scent of the furze, when first in bloom, 
 
 " Might vie 
 With fahled sweets from purple Araby," — 
 
 was on the air; while every now and then the 
 yellow butterflies rose upon the wing, till then 
 confounded with the glittering buds on which they 
 rested. The silence would have been profound, 
 had it not been broken by a low but perpetual 
 murmur, like rippling water, which told that the 
 fragrant artisans of summer, the bees, were busy 
 gathering in their honey-harvest — at once labour- 
 ers and manufacturers. Far in the distance lay 
 the mighty forest, gloomy and solid, as if some 
 dark mountain girdling in the valley. The sun- 
 shine went sweeping rapidly from the foreground 
 to the utmost extent of the horizon ; the shadow 
 coiled up before it ; gradually the breaks among 
 the wood became distinct, the dense blackness 
 
 VOL. I. d
 
 50 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 vanished, and the green woods shone out in the 
 transparent atmosphere. The furze now became 
 broken with patches of grass, and with occasional 
 trees, and clumps of firs, whose sombre and wiry 
 foliage had nothing in common with the cheerful 
 aspect of their companions. 
 
 I cannot love evergreens — they are the misan- 
 thropes of nature. To them the spring brings no 
 promise, the autumn no decline ; they are cut off 
 rom the sweetest of all ties with their kind — sym- 
 pathy. They have no hopes in common, but stand 
 apart — very emblems for the fortunate and worldly 
 man, whose harsh temper has been unsoftened by 
 participating in general suffering, existing alone in 
 his unshared and sullen prosperity. I will have 
 no evergreens in my garden ; when the inevitable 
 winter comes, every beloved plant and favourite 
 tree shall droop together — no solitary fir left to 
 triumph over the companionship of decay. 
 
 Far as the boundaries of the forest spread on 
 either side, it yet lay just below the heath ; a few 
 more windings of the little path brought them 
 directly into one of its glades. The first indication 
 was a change of the perfumed air ; the furze- 
 blossom was merged in the delicious breath of the 
 may, now in full bloom — the most aromatic of 
 English flowers. The extreme stillness, relieved 
 
 %i*'
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 51 
 
 rather than interrupted by the bees plying their 
 sounding wings, existed no longer. Every branch 
 was musical with birds, whose perpetual chirpings 
 served as chorus to the rich and prolonged cadences 
 of the black-bird ; while the least stir not of their 
 own making filled the air with fluttering pinions, 
 which let in a shower of sunshine through the 
 leaves. 
 
 One characteristic of the New Forest is its 
 freedom from underwood ; hence the height of 
 the stately trees is undiminished, and the sweep 
 of the open place unbroken. Architecture, the 
 first of sciences, took, in our northern world, its 
 earlier lessons in the forest — the Gothic aisle and 
 arch were found amid the beach and oak. The 
 foilage was in the utmost variety of expanded 
 spring ; the leaves of the beach, though destined 
 to a deeper shade, wore already their polished 
 green ; but the oak had yet put forth little more 
 than those pale primrose-tinted buds, the faint 
 promise of its future spreading shade. Here and 
 there a shining holly reared its fairy " clump of 
 spears," and round many a leafless trunk the 
 slender English ivy twined its graceful wreaths 
 in such profusion as to mimic the tree on whose 
 life it had fed. But the beauty of the glades 
 was the hawthorn, in full luxuriance. The 
 
 aotUtua
 
 />2 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 slightest motion brought down a shower of white 
 blossoms, and the sweet air grew yet sweeter as 
 the brothers approached the more sequestered 
 parts. The deer gazed on them for a moment 
 with their large, tremulous eyes, and then bound- 
 ed off, gradually slackening their graceful speed 
 when a tree or a growth of fern served as a 
 barrier; while here and there a pair of antlers 
 were tossed up, glancing like ivory in the sun. 
 
 " Every thing here is the very same as the 
 morning I went away," said Robert Evelyn ; 
 " but, good heavens, the change in the country 
 around ! The house deserted, the field uncul- 
 tivated, the peasant starting with a look of fear 
 at the sound of your horse's hoofs, have little in 
 common with the England which I left. But 
 here I feel at home again ; I could almost dream 
 that not a flower had faded, and not a leaf fallen 
 these three years." 
 
 " Now/' returned Francis, " begin to moralise 
 according to your mood. Rob Cowley of some 
 quaint phrase touching the mutability of man, 
 and the immutability of nature. But here, where 
 these old oaks look too respectable to enact the 
 part of evesdroppers, I shall rather say, Out on 
 the fanatic knaves that brought the country to 
 this pass, with their seeing of visions, and dreaming 
 
 O Xi
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 53 
 
 of dreams ! By the eyes of our beautiful Queen, 
 I hate to look on their serge cloaks and close- 
 cropped crowns. " 
 
 " And yet, methinks," answered the other, 
 " I could as ill have brooked the hypocrisy and 
 the oppression more delicately clad in cloth of 
 silver and embroidery of gold." 
 
 " Why, one would suppose you thought my 
 father was listening," interrupted his brother. 
 " Loyalty may well be an old song in England, 
 when a young\ cavalier like yourself wears a 
 sheathed rapier and a grave brow, and talks 
 sagely of oppression !" 
 
 " I have lived long enough in Italy to loathe 
 the tyranny of old prescription. What, there, is the 
 result of the exclusive privilege of one class, and 
 the hereditary bondage of another, and the igno- 
 rance of both — what but cruelty, indolence, and 
 debasing superstition? I stayed at Venice, and, 
 even in that gay city my blood ran cold to retrace 
 the crime and craft which are the staple of her 
 annals. And yet her people were once free and 
 bold, winning adventurous wealth from the sea, 
 which they mastered. Now, to what a state of 
 crippled slavery are they reduced! and by what, 
 but the depression of a gradual and secret despo- 
 tism ? Ah ! my brother, we do well to watch our
 
 54 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 birthright jealously; the least invasion on the 
 meanest peasant, the slightest encroachment of the 
 powerful, are not matters to be neglected — such 
 are the first steps of tyranny. Woe betide the 
 people who allow such invasion on their freedom 
 to gain courage from endurance, or strength from 
 time!" 
 
 " Out, out upon this oration, or homily I 
 should rather call it, to suit the spirit of the time ! 
 I have heard too much of the blessings of liberty 
 not to hate their very name. I own to you I can- 
 not force myself to care for the fancied rights of 
 low-born churls whom I despise. Mankind have, 
 from all antiquity, been divided into two classes — 
 the ruling and the ruled ; why should we attempt 
 to set all experience, at defiance ? I see no cause 
 for reversing the good old plan, provided I can 
 manage to be one of the rulers. I will leave you 
 a few noble sentiments (I hope you like the phrase) 
 for our worthy father's especial service ; but trust 
 your practice will suit more with my own." 
 
 " I should, if you please, rather prefer my 
 practice and my theory going together." 
 
 " Mere matter of taste. But surely I know 
 that solid iron-grey horse, and its still more solid 
 rider, Major Johnsone ! take his entertainment on 
 yourself."
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 55 
 
 " Nay!" exclaimed Robert, detaining him ; 
 " it will not task your courtesy much, for we can 
 leave him in a few minutes — and I have so much 
 to say to you." 
 
 " Why, to tell the truth," resumed Francis, 
 " I have my own reasons for wishing to avoid an 
 encounter with yonder sullen fanatic. As ill luck 
 would have it, I was with Goring's dragoons the 
 night his house was burnt. Do not look so 
 reproachfully ; we did but enter his hall for the 
 joke of forcing the old Presbyterian into hospi- 
 tality, when his refusal to drink the king's health 
 led to high words, and thence to hard blows. I 
 did not draw till Edward Stukeley was killed by 
 my side. I then cut down his opponent, who was 
 Johnsone's only son — I myself received a wound" 
 — pointing to a slight scar on the temple — " from 
 his father. We were then separated ; but I hear he 
 vows eternal vengeance against me. Now I care 
 for his threats as little as I care for his anger ; but, 
 come down as I am on my good behaviour, a broil 
 is the last thing in the world that I desire — so I 
 shall judiciously retreat. We shall meet again, if 
 you will go home, whither I shall direct my steps." 
 
 So saying, he turned into a narrow path, and 
 soon left the stern horseman and his brother far 
 behind.
 
 56 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 Suddenly the way terminated in a little lonely 
 glade, through which a small clear brook ran with 
 a sweet low song, a perpetual and musical murmur, 
 as the waves rippled over the white and blue 
 pebbles which lay glittering below. On either 
 side spread the moss thick and soft, and starred 
 with a thousand coloured particles, red, gold, and 
 purple, Nature's own delicate broidery. There 
 was nothing of that luxuriance of blossom which 
 had hitherto clothed the wood, for there were no 
 hawthorns ; but the bog-myrtle imparted its tender 
 fragrance, and the caressing honeysuckle wound 
 round many an ancient trunk, odours exhaling 
 from every fairy-like tube — fit trumpets for the 
 heralds of Titania. 
 
 Bending down beside the brook, from whose 
 bank she was gathering the moss, the slender out- 
 line of her form mirrored darkly on the stream, 
 was a girl, lovely enough even for the lovely scene 
 around. The grey stuff dress, the white cap, 
 whose border was drawn close round the face, were 
 such as a peasant would wear ; but there was 
 about her not only that grace which nature and 
 beauty give, but that softness and refinement which 
 belong, if not to gentle blood, yet to gentle breed- 
 ing. The pure white of her skin had known no 
 exposure to the weather, and the fair and delicate
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 57 
 
 hands had obviously known no ruder task than 
 their present employment. She did not look 
 above eighteen, and yet the first bloom of youth 
 was past ; it was the complexion to which colour 
 would naturally belong, and yet her cheek was 
 pale, and the deep blue eyes had an expression of 
 melancholy, fixed, but still not seeming to be their 
 native expression. 
 
 Francis gazed for a moment on the exquisite 
 profile, which was all he could see, and hesitated ; 
 it was an interview he had half resolved not to 
 seek — but Lucy Aylmer looked more lovely than 
 ever ; and he sprang across the brook. 
 
 " Are you gathering moss for the linnet's cage ?" 
 asked he, aware that the bird had been his own 
 gift. 
 
 Lucy started from her bending attitude — a flush 
 of beautiful delight upon her face. In a moment 
 that most beloved voice went to her heart; her 
 head sunk on his shoulder; and for a few minutes 
 she had no thought, no feeling, but the intense 
 happiness of seeing him again. Could he, could 
 any one, be insensible to tenderness so guileless 
 and yet so deep? Perhaps, too, the very con- 
 sciousness of how little it was deserved, quickened 
 affection with remorse ; and at that instant Francis 
 felt the love which had been weakened by absence, 
 d2
 
 58 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 and forgotten in change, spring up again with all 
 the fervour of a new impulse. 
 
 Lucy Aylmer was the only child of a favourite 
 attendant of Lady Evelyn's, and left an orphan 
 when but three years' old. Lady Evelyn had 
 always wished for a daughter, and she adopted as 
 her own the beautiful little girl, whose docility and 
 affection more than repaid the debt of gratitude 
 for what, alas ! was not kindness. Poor Lucy was 
 only accustomed, not elevated to another sphere. 
 Refinement of feeling belongs equally to every 
 station, but refinement of taste must be matter of 
 education. Every year, when she went to pay 
 her annual visit to her father and grandmother, 
 she found more and more how wide was the gulf 
 between them. They had not a habit or an idea in 
 common ; their pleasures were not her pleasures, 
 and their hopes were not her hopes. 
 
 But it was not till Francis Evelyn came home 
 that she felt the full wretchedness of her position. 
 Robert, brought up under the same roof, was, as a 
 brother, associated in her mind only with the pains 
 and pleasures of childhood. Not so the young 
 and handsome cavalier, who had for two years 
 entirely resided with the distant relative, who died, 
 bequeathing to him the wreck of a once princely 
 fortune. Sir Robert bitterly reproached himself
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 59 
 
 for having consigned his child to another, when 
 he saw the effect of too eafTy initiation into pro- 
 fligacy, or, as Francis called it, knowledge of 
 the world. 
 
 Frankness and confidence belong to youth ; 
 and where experience comes too soon, it brings 
 but half knowledge. The conviction of much evil 
 in the heart should be learned at a later period, 
 when we shall be aware also of much good. The 
 worldly wisdom of the young is always of a harsh 
 and bitter nature, making no allowance, and for- 
 giving nothing — ever ready to attribute the ill 
 motive, and holding suspicion to be penetration. 
 Moreover, he was pained to perceive that the 
 youth had no higher rule of action than worldly 
 honour — honour which makes so many exceptions 
 in favour of its pleasures. Principle was in his 
 eyes but prejudice — and where he could not 
 reason the right away, he ridiculed it. 
 
 Still he was so handsome, so graceful, so lively, 
 that Sir Robert, making more excuses than he 
 could well justify to himself, believed in the 
 improvement he wished, and hoped every thing 
 from the future. 
 
 And what was the impression produced on 
 the innocent Lucy? — only that Francis Evelyn 
 was the realisation of those dreams which had
 
 60 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 of late cast a deeper tenderness over the page 
 of the poet, and giv^n a keener interest to the 
 creation of the romance. Her creed of love was 
 taken from Sir Philip Sydney's " Arcadia," and 
 its real life grew out of the gentle tenderness 
 native to her naturally melancholy temper — the 
 result, perhaps, of a very solitary existence, and 
 of health uncertain, if not positively weak. 
 
 Francis at first sought only amusement, and 
 made love to her as he would to any other pretty 
 girl, for he belonged to a school who considered 
 gallantry as something between a relaxation and a 
 science. It was, however, impossible for his feel- 
 ings not to become interested — something of the 
 truth and poetry of her nature communicated 
 themselves to his own. Not that he was prepared 
 to make one sacrifice for her sake, but then she 
 expected none ; her presence was a delight, and 
 he left the future to chance. And Lucy, she too 
 was happy; she hoped for nothing — she wished 
 for nothing. To see him every day, to listen to 
 him, to dwell with trembling joy on the slightest 
 instance of preference, was enough to fill up the 
 circle of her charmed existence. 
 
 But Lady Evelyn soon penetrated into her 
 heart, and with a sorrow allied to anger. Alas 
 for the weakness of human pride ! Lady Evelyn
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 61 
 
 was a just, ay, and a kind woman ; yet she would 
 sooner have seen the lovely and gentle creature — 
 who had grown up at her knees, whose watchful 
 love had heen for years the daily solace of a life 
 broken by sickness — in the grave, than the bride 
 of her son. She spoke to her, and harshly, while 
 Lucy only wept, and felt the most guilty thing in 
 the wide world. From that hour, love to the one 
 seemed ingratitude to the other ; the disparity of 
 their conditions haunted her perpetually. She was 
 wretched and restless when Francis was away, 
 but still more wretched when with him ; for the 
 thought of his mother haunted her with all the 
 bitterness of remorse. 
 
 Francis was enraged at the interference, and 
 opposition made him more in earnest ; but just at 
 this time, the civil war, which had hitherto left 
 their part of the country comparatively quiet, arose 
 with great virulence in their immediate vicinity. 
 Early friends, and the superior gaiety of their 
 camp, soon led the younger Evelyn to join the roy- 
 alists ; and the burning of Major Johnsone's house 
 compelled him to leave the neighbourhood. Per- 
 haps, as bitter medicines strengthen the weakened 
 system, it would have given force to Lucy's efforts 
 at resignation could she have known how seldom 
 did her image arise in her lover's memory. His
 
 62 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 indifference was the only sorrow which her anx- 
 ious fancy never conjured up. She felt more for 
 what she believed must be his regret than for 
 her own. 
 
 Lady Evelyn's death led to her leaving the 
 hall for a home more, than ever distasteful ; true, 
 she was independent, even rich, for her station ; 
 but for it she was utterly unfit. She was too 
 gentle, too unselfish, not to be beloved ; and though 
 her father sometimes wished that she were more 
 active, and her grandmother that she were less sad, 
 still they were both proud and fond of her. They 
 soon would have sorely missed the fairy hand whose 
 birds and flowers gave a new cheerfulness to the 
 house, and the sweet voice ever ready to sing their 
 favourite old songs, or to read the sacred page, 
 which, to use the poor old woman's words, " she 
 did like an angel." But for herself the hope of 
 life was gone. Every hour that she could, she 
 passed in solitude, dreary, unoccupied, mournful 
 solitude ; — what wonder was it that the colour left 
 a cheek so often washed with tears? 
 
 But the crimson just now was radiant enough. 
 Recovering from the first almost shock of delight, 
 she clasped her hands in mute thankfulness to 
 Heaven. She, whose timid eyes drooped at his 
 least look, now gazed on his countenance as if
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 63 
 
 she feared to lose that most beloved face, nor did 
 she turn for one moment away. Scarcely could 
 she believe in the reality. 
 
 " You are lovelier than ever, my Lucy," said 
 Francis. 
 
 He was about to have added, that he had come 
 forth on purpose to seek her, but the flattering 
 falsehood died on his lips — for his life he could 
 not at that moment have deceived her even in a 
 trifle. 
 
 " Ah, Francis ! your mother ! " exclaimed she, 
 turning pale ; " I must leave you." 
 
 This was easy to say ; but where the heart 
 is reluctant, the steps linger. What needs it to 
 repeat that gentle discourse which all can either 
 imagine or remember ? Their interview was, how- 
 ever, brief; for Francis was little desirous of a 
 discovery, and he knew he was expected by both 
 father and brother. It was long before Lucy left 
 that little lonely dell ; and when she did, it was 
 with a sensation of passionate happiness beating at 
 her heart which no fear for the future, no consci- 
 ousness of disparity, could restrain. Ah, how little 
 suffices to make earth a paradise in the young and 
 eager eyes of early and unsuspicious love ! 
 
 Francis was met by his brother just at the 
 entrance of the wood ; for Robert was too full of
 
 64 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 enjoyment in visiting all his early haunts not to 
 desire a companion who would at least listen to 
 the buoyant overflow of pleasant remembrances. 
 
 Whenever the scene of a narrative changes, it 
 has been a custom, venerable from its antiquity, to 
 leave the hero in some danger or dilemma. With 
 all our respect for good old rules, we must here 
 reverse the practice, and leave ours both in content 
 and security, while we return to Italy and Fran- 
 cesca, whom we left to that drear absence whose 
 passive loneliness is ever the lot of woman.
 
 65 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Get rich — honestly, if you can — but, at any rate, get rich. 
 
 Useful Advice. 
 
 " Oh! Francesca, such news!" exclaimed Marie 
 Mancini, bounding into the old hall, and followed, 
 though at a slower pace, by her sister; " come, 
 put aside your embroidery, and congratulate us. 
 My father's scruples have yielded to my uncle's 
 wishes, nay commands, and we depart at once for 
 France." 
 
 " Alas!" replied Francesca, " you can scarce 
 expect me to rejoice over an event which will part 
 us so utterly !" 
 
 " Not so," interrupted the gentle voice of 
 Henrietta ; " you must* join us ; the Cardinal's 
 letters are full of kindness — he seems anxious to 
 indulge our least wishes — surely he will not deny 
 us our earliest and dearest friend. Think, too, 
 what his patronage may effect for Guido ! "
 
 66 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 " And what the young nobles of France may 
 say to your dark eyes !" added Marie. 
 
 " Is it true," said Guido, who had just entered 
 " that you are about to leave Italy — and us?" 
 
 " Yes," answered Marie, " we are like the 
 knights of old, about to go forth and conquer." 
 
 She paused, for she felt rebuked by the earnest 
 and melancholy gaze of the young sculptor. Marie 
 loved him as much as it was in her nature to 
 love — more than she suspected herself. It was 
 with a flushed cheek and glittering eye that she 
 let him draw her towards the window, while she 
 listened to a passion pleaded with all the fervour 
 of the South, and made beautiful by an imagination 
 which turned all it touched to poetry. True it is 
 that the innate buoyancy of the as yet unbroken 
 spirit soon rebounds from the pressure of sorrow ; 
 nevertheless, it is in youth that sorrow is most 
 keenly felt. Time, of which so little has been 
 measured, seems so very long — we soon learn the 
 worldly lesson, that friends are easily replaced, and 
 still more easily forgotten. We become accustomed 
 to change — we grow hardened to regret — and in 
 after- years look back with surprise, nay, even 
 disdain, at the poignant grief with which we first 
 parted from our early companions. We never again 
 form those open, eager, and confiding attachments.
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 67 
 
 It was late in the autumn when the Mancinis 
 departed; and drearily did the ensuing months 
 pass with Francesca and Guido. The season, too, 
 added its gloom. In our northern climes we have 
 comfort and even gaiety with winter ; there the 
 cheerful fireside and the hospitality of Christmas 
 make that period a sort of rallying point for the 
 year. But where summer forms so large a portion 
 of the enjoyment of the people — where all the 
 habits are those of a warm climate — where all 
 ordinary avocations of life are carried on in the 
 open air, a long and severe winter is tedious in- 
 deed. The first letter they received was from 
 3Iarie; their next was from Henrietta, who ear- 
 nestly advised their coming to Paris. This was 
 rendered impossible by the fixed attachment of 
 their grandfather to his present residence, whose 
 habits of seclusion were become more engrossing 
 than ever. 
 
 " I sometimes believe," said Guido, as, one cold, 
 raw evening they sat beside the hearth, illumined 
 by the red glare of the burning pine-boughs, "that 
 the thing we call happiness, exists not. Its desire 
 is implanted in our hearts, its promise dazzles our 
 eyes ; but its reality is unknown. I look back to 
 each moment I have experienced of enjoyment — 
 how was it ever mingled with fever and with
 
 68 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 fear ! I remember hearing, that in the East the 
 clear and azure waters seem to flow before the 
 weary and parched traveller ; yet a little further, 
 and on he urges his weary way, but in vain — the 
 fair stream is a delusion. Even thus happiness 
 is the mirage which leads us over the desert of 
 life, ever fated to end in deceit and disappoint- 
 ment. Young, beautiful, and innocent, are you 
 happy, Francesca?" 
 
 She turned her face towards him, silently — it 
 was glittering with tears. 
 
 "And what is it that we want? Wealth !" con- 
 tinued the youth ; u had I possessed but a portion 
 of my house's heritage, I should not be forced to 
 picture to myself Marie but as surrounded by 
 the gay flatterers of a foreign court. And you, 
 Francesca — need you have feared the English 
 noble's denial, could the bride have brought gold 
 instead of a true and loving heart ?" 
 
 " You are right!" exclaimed the aged Carrara, 
 who had, unperceived, been a witness to their dis- 
 course ; " gold is the earthly deity, to whom is 
 intrusted the destinies of humanity. It is power, 
 it is pleasure, it is love ; for even affection may be 
 bought by gratitude. What can a king give to his 
 bravest but wealth? How can the lover surround 
 the loved with the lovely but with wealth ? Nay,
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 69 
 
 will it not," added he, with a scarce perceptible 
 sneer, " buy even salvation from our holy church? 
 There is only one thing on earth more glorious, 
 and that is science ; science, which can master the 
 subtle spirit, and force it to enter even the most 
 worthless substances. It is now before me ; the toil 
 of a life is near its completion ; how mightily will 
 one moment repay the vigils of years ! Ay, my 
 children, be wild, be uncurbed in your wishes; little 
 dream ye how near you are to their fulfilment!" 
 
 The old man's pale face gleamed with excite- 
 ment, his wan cheek was flushed, his eyes kindled 
 with fire, and his step was buoyant, like that 
 of youth, as he ascended the winding staircase 
 which led to his solitary tower. The young are 
 easily carried away by whatever appeals to their 
 imagination ; and the cousins now began to build 
 golden and aerial castles, with a vivacity the re- 
 action of their previous despondency. 
 
 " Holy mother ! what is that V ejaculated 
 Francesca, as an explosion, like a clap of thunder 
 bursting directly over the palace, shook the very 
 ground beneath their feet. Both sprang to the 
 door; but the night, though cold, was clear, the 
 moon shone large and bright in the deep blue 
 sky ; and all again was profound silence, when 
 Guido exclaimed —
 
 70 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 " Surely that is a most unusual light from 
 the turret !" 
 
 The windows of the tower were illuminated 
 with a sudden blaze, where usually glimmered but 
 one solitary spark. Both rushed towards the 
 staircase, down which, like waves, rolled the ed- 
 dying smoke ; fortunately, there were large gaps 
 in the dilapidated walls, or they never could have 
 made their way. The last flight of steps was 
 lighted from the open door, which the shock had 
 forced from its hinges. A large clear flame, but 
 evidently subsiding, arose on the hearth ; various 
 vessels and instruments, mostly broken, were scat- 
 tered round ; and thrown with his face on the floor 
 lay their grandfather. Guido caught him up in 
 his arms, and bore him to the lower chamber, 
 where the noise had assembled their two servants. 
 The features still wore their expression of eager- 
 ness and triumph — but set and rigid, for life had 
 departed from them for ever. 
 
 The danger of the palace was too imminent for 
 neglect ; and leaving the body, beside which Fran- 
 cesca was kneeling, Guido again ascended the 
 steps of the tower ; but the smoke had nearly dis- 
 persed, the blaze on the hearth was flickering and 
 faint, while the pale moonlight shone quietly into 
 that room of disappointment and death, as it had
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 71 
 
 a thousand times shone on its lonely and deluding 
 pursuits. Again he descended; and the same 
 reddening pine-boughs that had lit his own and 
 Francesca's countenance, in all the animation of 
 their late discourse, now lighted the ghastly fea- 
 tures of the dead.
 
 72 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 " The future, that sweet world which is hope's own, 
 Lay fair before." Anon. 
 
 France now became the land of promise to the 
 Carraras ; their youthful connexion with the 
 nieces of Cardinal Mazarin might have encou- 
 raged the most ambitious hopes; but they knew 
 too little of the world to be worldly : Guido dwelt 
 only on the thought that he should again see 
 Marie Mancini ; and Francesca remembered that 
 it was so much nearer England. Her expectations 
 were, however, of a more subdued kind — the very 
 depth of a woman's affection casts its own shadow, 
 and love and fear are with her twin-born. With 
 a natural sensitiveness, she exaggerated dangers, 
 and with natural timidity mistrusted the effects of 
 absence. Months had passed away, and she had 
 heard nothing of Evelyn. Alas ! how many old 
 stories had she been told of change and falsehood !
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 73 
 
 But her spirit was firm as gentle. She had 
 been from childhood less her grandfather's favour- 
 ite than her cousin, and from the very earliest 
 age all the household cares had fallen to her 
 share. Thus, habits of thought and activity were 
 forced upon her ; she soon acquired that self- 
 reliance which exertion ever brings ; and at the 
 age of seventeen she united a sweet seriousness, 
 a mild energy, with all the guileless simplicity 
 of youth. 
 
 Impassioned and imaginative, living in an 
 ideal world, little broken in upon by the small 
 sacrifices of daily life, Guido was far less fitted for 
 the ordinary struggle of existence ; he possessed 
 genius in the highest sense of the word — inherent, 
 spiritual, and creative. In hand, heart, and mind, 
 he was alike a poet. But, alas ! those who are 
 heirs of the future, destined to fill the earth with 
 the immortal and the beautiful, what is their 
 share in the present ? the sad and the weary path 
 — the bowed-down and broken heart ! Look at 
 the golden list of the few who have left behind 
 them the bright picture, the god-like statue, the 
 inspired scroll, to whom we yet owe — ay and 
 now pay our debt of gratitude — what was each 
 life but a long and terrible sacrifice to futurity ? 
 But the young look to the goal, not to the road ; 
 
 vol. I. e
 
 74 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 and well it is for them so to do ; they would never 
 reach it but for such onward gaze. 
 
 Their few arrangements were soon made, 
 hastened by a letter from Henrietta, now Duchesse 
 de Mercoeur; and they found themselves in pos- 
 session of a degree of wealth, which, however 
 moderate, was sufficient to preclude any thing 
 like dependence. It was a bright morning when 
 they embarked at the port of Leghorn. The blue 
 sea spread far away, till lost, as it were, in light ; 
 the shore lay glittering behind, and the sunshine 
 seemed to fall like a blessing around. The buoy- 
 ant atmosphere gives its own lightness to the 
 spirits; and our young voyagers felt as if the beau- 
 tiful day were the augury of the future. 
 
 Yet, at that very time the power of their ex- 
 pected patron seemed on the verge of final over- 
 throw. Cardinal Mazarin had, for the second 
 time, been forced into exile by the Fronde, and 
 Paris was in a state of equal confusion and ex- 
 citement — excitement, that peculiarly Parisian 
 word. The disturbances had commenced, like 
 those of England, in the refusal of the parliament 
 to sanction an obnoxious tax ; but here all resem- 
 blance ended. The position of the two countries 
 was, indeed, entirely opposite. In the English 
 parliament the tax was refused on great and gene-
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 75 
 
 ral principles; in the French, in consequence of 
 its immediate pressure and hardship. In France, 
 the parliament soon became a mere engine in 
 the hands of a few high-bom and ambitious men, 
 who had nothing in common with its interests, 
 which were those of the people. In England 
 the House of Commons was a powerful body, 
 sufficing to itself, and whose members had com- 
 mon cause in the privileges for which they con- 
 tended. The truth is, our island had far preceded 
 her Gallic neighbour in knowledge and liberality. 
 The great body of Englishmen were far better 
 educated than their compeers on the other side 
 the channel. The Reformation had thrown open 
 the rich extent of classic literature ; the age had 
 been fertile in those great men who give their 
 own impetus to the national mind ; and habits of 
 religious led also to political discussion. More- 
 over, one greatest advantage in all questions of 
 government, the spring of action was no vain love 
 of change, but a just desire of confirming olden 
 privileges. The claimants went back upon what 
 they believed to be their rights. Perhaps a more 
 able and intelligent body of men were never col- 
 lected together — strong in conviction and ability 
 — than that which presented the memorable peti- 
 tion of rights.
 
 76 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 But that hope is the most enduring of mortal 
 feelings, what profound discouragement would it 
 throw on the noblest and most promising efforts 
 of humanity, to think that men so intellectual 
 and so upright could be swayed, in the long-run, 
 by the thirst of dominion ; and, carried away from 
 all sober sense by the wildest and most fanatic 
 enthusiasm, that a spirit of fierce and narrow 
 religious persecution should be one of the chief 
 legacies which they bequeathed to posterity ! 
 
 But neither with the just sense of right with 
 which our struggle was commenced, nor with the 
 mad fanaticism with which it continued, had the 
 division of the Fronde any thing in common. 
 The parliament refused to register the royal edict 
 because the tax was a present grievance, a hard- 
 ship immediately felt. But they had not that 
 only material for resistance — a strong and rising 
 middle class — a class whose prosperity must ever 
 grow out of commerce. Their opposition became 
 armed rebellion, because upheld and stimulated 
 by those to whom they gave all they wanted — a 
 sanction and a name. 
 
 The wars of La Fronde were in reality the 
 struggle of Cardinal de Retz for the post of Car- 
 dinal Mazarin. The Coadjutor — for so he was 
 then entitled — was the extraordinary man of his
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 77 
 
 time. Disliking the clerical profession, which his 
 family obliged him to adopt, he was as unprin- 
 cipled as those necessarily must be upon whom 
 hypocrisy is forced. It is difficult to imagine a 
 more thoroughly bad person. Profligate, selfish, 
 false, and profane, his moral character had but 
 one excuse — that of circumstance. His hypocrisy 
 was matter of necessity, and his faults were those 
 of his day ; but his talents — perhaps the surest 
 mark of talents — were eminently suited to the 
 times which called them forth. Ready-witted, he 
 had a resource for every emergency; and what- 
 ever was his purpose, he perceived intuitively the 
 best methods of effecting it. He was both eloquent 
 and persuasive, and few men ever better under- 
 stood the delicate science of flattery. A temper 
 originally violent was kept under by the strong 
 curb of interest ; though what it naturally was 
 when unchecked by the all-potent fear — that of 
 consequences — may be inferred by an anecdote. 
 
 The Princess de Guimenee deserted Paris on 
 the first breaking out of the disturbances. De 
 Retz's connexion with her had been of long con- 
 tinuance; her timidity savoured, therefore, of 
 treachery. Oh her return, he himself states, 
 " I was so transported with rage, that I caught 
 her by the throat !"
 
 78 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 What must have been his self-control, when, 
 amid all the thwarting and vexatious affairs by 
 which he was surrounded, in scarce a single in- 
 stance did passion hurry him beyond the bounds of 
 prudence ! La Fronde was equally of his foment- 
 ing and his continuing. With the parliament 
 for his pretext, and some prince of the blood 
 for his puppet, he twice drove his rival into exile, 
 governed a violent party, and made his way to 
 power by the sole force of his own genius. 
 
 Nothing more sensibly shews the veneration 
 and the obedience of the French for the royal 
 authority, than that a foreigner, obnoxious to all 
 ranks, and mediocre in talent, was supported by 
 it against all opposition. Well might De Retz 
 exclaim, " Give me but the king on my side for 
 a single day!" Another striking difference be- 
 tween the two countries was the nullity of female 
 influence in the one, and its extreme importance 
 in the other. True that in London a brewer's 
 wife headed a godly company of her sex, and 
 presented a petition against popery, and that 
 Mr. Pym commended their anxiety, and voted 
 them the thanks of the house. True, also, that in 
 Scotland the old women shewed much activity in 
 pelting the ungodly with the stools whereon they 
 sat at meeting. But these absurdities were of
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 79 
 
 no real consequence. In France the dames of 
 La Fronde were equally active with its cava- 
 liers ; every intrigue passed through their hands, 
 and the Duchesse de Longueville's part in the 
 drama was quite as effective as that of the Prince 
 of Conde, her brother. The results of this femi- 
 nine interference were inevitable — vacillation, 
 absurdity, and profligacy. The northern and 
 southern hemispheres are not more divided than 
 those allotted to man and woman — public and 
 private life. 
 
 There is no period of history which records 
 the authority of the gentler sex without also re- 
 cording its injurious effects. Leaving out the 
 darker shades of the picture, are not impulse and 
 sentiment the two mainsprings of all female ac- 
 tion? and can aught be more mischievous in 
 matters of politics or business? A king, the 
 history of whose youth is that of a few insipid 
 flirtations — a queen, weak, bigoted, and obsti- 
 nate — a court rent by petty factions — a detested 
 minister — a capital in a state of insurrection, and 
 suffering both from inundation and famine ; — 
 such was the country, and such the state of affairs, 
 where our young Italians expected to find all the 
 rainbow dreamings of youth and hope realised. 
 Something of this, however, they heard in the
 
 80 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 progress of their voyage, during which their 
 principal companion was a little French painter 
 called Bournonville. 
 
 If self-content form happiness, Corregio Bour- 
 nonville was the happiest of men. Perfectly con- 
 vinced that miniature-painting was the most im- 
 portant pursuit in life, he was equally persuaded 
 that he was the finest miniature-painter in the 
 world. Character he had none ; for he was 
 simple as a child — experience taught him no- 
 thing, being one of those in whom the faculty of 
 comprehension is utterly wanting. His only re- 
 maining characteristic was an extravagant defer- 
 ence to rank, mingled, too, with an odd sort of 
 patronage. " I to whom the court will owe its 
 immortality !" was with him a common phrase. 
 For hours he would dilate, with an enthusiasm 
 only broken in upon by emotion, how he had 
 relieved the monotony of colouring in Anne of 
 Austria's picture (taken during the second year of 
 her widowhood, when she wore a suit of entire 
 grey silk) by painting her as Juno, and introduc- 
 ing a peacock. He was touched even to tears 
 when he mentioned that her majesty graciously 
 condescended to resume the use of powder for 
 that occasion expressly, she not having worn it 
 since the death of the king. " Yes, her grace had
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 81 
 
 her hair frizzed and powdered entirely on my 
 account !" Neither was he less animated in 
 describing the young monarch, whom he had 
 represented as Jupiter, dressed in purple velvet 
 broidered in gold, a flaxen periwig floating over 
 his shoulders, an eagle by his side, and a thunder- 
 bolt in his hand. 
 
 Guido's ideas of these personifications were 
 somewhat at variance with Monsieur Corregio 
 Bournonville's ; but, naturally shy and silent, he 
 was little inclined to dispute the point ; and, long 
 before the voyage was over, they were the best 
 possible friends. The ignorance of the young 
 Italians was their best recommendation ; it gave 
 the Frenchman an agreeable feeling of superiority, 
 and, by a very ordinary process, he liked them 
 because he was useful to them. Thus, when on 
 their arrival in France, they found that Mazarin 
 had a second time been forced into exile by the 
 Fronde, he insisted on their making his house at 
 least their temporary home. Dreary, indeed, was 
 their journey to Paris ; want and desolation ap- 
 palled them on every side. In addition to the dis- 
 tress occasioned by intestine troubles, the severity 
 of the season, and the scarcity of provisions, the 
 Seine had recently overflowed its banks, and the 
 horrors of inundation were added to those of war 
 e2
 
 82 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 and famine. Groups of shivering wretches sat by 
 the road-side, and more than one unburied corpse 
 shewed what inroads distress had made on hu- 
 manity. So strongly is sympathy with the dead 
 implanted in our nature, that when those last sad 
 offices of affection and decency are neglected, 
 life indeed is in its last despair. 
 
 It was mid-day when they arrived in Paris ; 
 and though Bournonville's house was near the 
 Barrier de Sergens, they saw enough to shew 
 them what excitement prevailed through the city. 
 Groups of citizens (armed apparently with the 
 heir-looms of the wars of the league, so heavy 
 were some of the two-handled swords, and so 
 antiquated were the long and lumbering pikes) 
 were scattered round ; and if they were to be as 
 violent in action as they were in gesture and dis- 
 course, the future might well be matter of appre- 
 hension. But Bournonville, who had witnessed 
 the day of the barricades in the first La Fronde, 
 looked on with great composure. " They will 
 disperse," said he, " about four o'clock ; nos 
 bons bourgeois ne s'en dcsheureront jamais. They 
 must go home to their soup, coute qui coiitc." 
 
 A shrill sound of childish voices rose upon the 
 air ; and whether from the folly or the careless- 
 ness of their parents, some of the clamourers
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. OO 
 
 actually carried daggers; and what appeared to 
 them a holyday, had its enjoyment increased by 
 a sort of self-importance. Last of all, crying 
 "Point de Mazarin!" with the whole power of 
 his voice, and dragging after him a huge spear, 
 whose weight greatly impeded his progress, came 
 a boy of some five or six years old. Alas ! the 
 young patriot was soon taught a wholesome lesson 
 of submission to the powers that be ; for from a 
 corner-house out came his mother, a slight, active, 
 viragoish-looking woman. She seized the juvenile 
 Gracchus, with a sharp question of "Petit vaurien! 
 what do you do in the streets ?" and having duly 
 enforced her words with a box on the ear, drag- 
 ged the child home, still tenaciously clinging to 
 his spear. 
 
 The travellers were welcomed to Bournon- 
 ville's house by the gouvernante Madelon, a bus- 
 tling, goodnatured Normande, whose pyramidal 
 white cap and large gold ear-rings were the 
 delight of her heart; next came the house, and 
 after that her master ; — all objects of a most deep 
 and unfeigned attachment. 
 
 Bournonville's first step was to ask Madelon a 
 few questions, and then hurry to his painting- 
 room. " Every thing has changed since I left, 
 and I must change every thing too. The beauties
 
 84 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 of La Fronde will soon ask of me chains for pos- 
 terity, and they must not encounter their rivals.'' 
 
 The first objects that caught the Italians' 
 attention were portraits of Henriette and Marie 
 Mancini. 
 
 " How she is improved !" exclaimed Guido, 
 gazing on the face of the last. 
 
 Francesca almost unconsciously asked herself 
 how much of this improvement might be owing 
 to the courtly flattery of the painter. 
 
 Bourn onville allowed them no time for remark. 
 Hastily he turned their faces to the wall, and 
 placed before them two others — one whose large 
 melancholy blue eyes and languid fairness bespoke 
 the Duchesse de Longueville, while the other had 
 the perfect features and dark oriental orbs of 
 Mademoiselle de Chevreuse. These two heroines 
 of La Fronde being placed in the most conspi- 
 cuous lights, the artist proceeded to other ar- 
 rangements. 
 
 " The King may remain," muttered he, brush- 
 ing the dust from the periwig of the royal Jupiter ; 
 " the Queen is just as well in the shade — this 
 sketch of Mademoiselle will partially hide her. 
 Now, a few nobodies and messieurs of La Fronde 
 may come as soon as they please. And so, my 
 children, for some dinner!"
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 85 
 
 And the man who had just been engaged in 
 the most time-serving neglect of former, and a 
 most cringing anticipation of new patrons, be- 
 came forthwith the kind and hospitable host of 
 strangers who had no claim upon him beyond 
 their own isolated situation. Consistency is a 
 human word, but it certainly expresses nothing 
 human.
 
 86 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 " Tis he — what doth he here?" — Lara. 
 
 The following evening, Bournonville and his 
 guests were seated round the large old-fashioned 
 hearth, whose wooden chimney-piece represented 
 the death of St. Louis, rudely carved in the same 
 material, and once painted white, now brown 
 with smoke and time. Madelon sat in the corner 
 with her eyes closed ; but her hands moved, as if 
 telling her large oaken beads were a mechanical 
 effort. Guido and Francesca were in attitudes 
 at least of attention, though the thoughts of each 
 were far away ; and the painter was dilating on 
 the fair beauty of Mademoiselle de Longueville, 
 and the dark beauty of Mademoiselle de Chevreuse, 
 at both of whose portraits he had been assiduously 
 employed during the day. Henriette and Marie
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA, 
 
 87 
 
 de Mancini, his former inexhaustible themes, 
 seemed to have entirely escaped his memory. 
 
 Suddenly the whole party were alarmed by a 
 violent knocking at the door. The sound of armed 
 men with their heavy footsteps and clanging 
 swords, mingled with oath and threat, were dis- 
 tinctly heard ; and the bolt was scarcely with- 
 drawn, before in rushed a party of about twenty, 
 who appeared both prepared and determined to 
 take possession of the place. Guido drew the 
 slight rapier that hung by his side ; but his guard 
 was instantly beaten down by the leader of the 
 band, who, however, in so doing, dropped the 
 cloak from his face. 
 
 " M. D'Argenteuil !" exclaimed Bournonville, 
 " surely this is not the respect you shew to the 
 fine arts. Even during the ferocious siege of 
 Rhodes, Demetrius honoured the house of Pro- 
 togenes the painter. Will you, a Christian and a 
 gentleman, allow yourself to be outdone in cour- 
 tesy by a heathen V 
 
 D'Argenteuil laughed. " Not so, my prince 
 of colours. I knew not of your return ; and this 
 house commands the barrier which we have some 
 reason to expect will be attacked to-night. Most 
 of my men will disperse as sentinels ; and you
 
 88 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 must find room by your fireside for myself and a 
 friend or so." 
 
 Bournonville was profuse in politeness and 
 protestations. " I have yet left a flask or two 
 of fine old Burgundy ; and I think I know what 
 fair saint will best honour the health," added he, 
 with a most insinuating smile. 
 
 But in the meantime a far different scene had 
 been going on in the chamber. Francesca, as the 
 door opened, had shrunk to the side of Madelon, 
 when her attention, as the tumult ceased, was 
 caught by a young cavalier who was gazing ear- 
 nestly upon her. The light fell more fully on his 
 face — she could not be deceived — she sprang for- 
 ward, and, laying her hand on his arm, exclaimed 
 in English, " Evelyn, dearest Evelyn ! have you 
 forgotten Francesca Carrara?" 
 
 " Mr. Evelyn !" exclaimed Guido, at the same 
 moment. 
 
 Lost in delight and surprise, the young Eng- 
 lishman stood for an instant motionless; when, 
 recovering from his astonishment, he caught the 
 beautiful hand extended towards him, and, kissing 
 it, eagerly whispered, " Francesca, the lovely 
 Francesca, I am too happy !" 
 
 Turning to Guido, he expressed his pleasure
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 89 
 
 at meeting him also ; and then, addressing a few 
 words in a low voice to D'Argenteuil, took his 
 place by the fire. 
 
 The soldiers were dismissed, the Burgundy 
 produced, and, despite their forcible entry, the 
 new arrivals were as much disposed to its cheer- 
 ful enjoyment as if they had been old friends 
 bidden to a festival ; Evelyn, Francesca, and 
 Guido, occupying a little nook to themselves. 
 
 " I will not tell you to-night," said the young 
 Englishman, " of the disappointment and diffi- 
 culties which awaited my arrival at home ; suffice 
 it to say" — looking towards Francesca — "that 
 henceforth I shall look but to myself for happi- 
 ness. I am now engaged in an affair which, if it 
 succeed, will enable me to make my own terms." 
 
 "Why do you not speak in Italian?" said 
 Francesca, who was something chilled by the 
 over-frankness with which her lover alluded to 
 feelings which with her were so sacred and silent. 
 
 " In good sooth, my sweet saint, my stay in 
 England and here has somewhat roughened my 
 tongue for the words of the soft south. I must 
 learn them again from you." 
 
 Francesca sighed, and thought how little she 
 had forgotten the English she had learned for his 
 sake.
 
 90 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 Evelyn proceeded to narrate his business in 
 Paris. " Only that the majority of people are 
 idiots, and prefer their fancies to their interests, 
 these cavalier and roundhead differences might 
 soon be settled. My plan is perfect, on the old 
 principle that les extremes touchent. I propose 
 to unite the opposites, and conclude our civil wars 
 like a comedy — with a marriage : Charles Stuart 
 and Frances Cromwell !" 
 
 " So degrading a connexion !" interrupted 
 Guido. 
 
 " The daughter of his father's murderer !" 
 exclaimed Francesca. 
 
 " Ay, ay, prejudice and fine feelings, the old 
 Scylla and Charybdis of action," returned Evelyn, 
 with something between a smile and a sneer ; " if 
 the brewer's daughter has not the blood of the 
 Stuarts and Plantagenets mingling in her veins, 
 she is but the more ennobled by an alliance with 
 him who has. As for 'his father's murderer/ 
 such harsh expressions are never used, beautiful 
 Francesca ! We must talk of the force of circum- 
 stances, of imperative necessity, and find fault with 
 the cruel horoscope which ordained such a fate. 
 Charles Stuart will suddenly have seen the errors 
 of his royal father. Cromwell's conscience will 
 equally suddenly be touched with the desire of re-
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 91 
 
 paration. He will perceive that the innocent should 
 not suffer for the guilty. The converted king's re- 
 turn will be another crowning mercy ; and Frances 
 Cromwell will bring three kingdoms for her dower. 
 I much misdoubt me if our royal master would not 
 take her for but the revenues of one of them." 
 
 "Well arranged/' said D'Argenteuil, joining 
 in their conversation ; " but a man's circumstances 
 must be desperate before he attempt to mend 
 them by marriage. Why, your prince has already 
 three alliances in agitation. There is his mother 
 trying flattery in every shape to win for him the 
 good graces and fair domains of our princess, 
 Mademoiselle de Montpensier." 
 
 "If it be true what I hear," said the Che- 
 valier de Joinville, the other remaining cavalier, 
 she had better take him. When she ordered the 
 cannon of the Bastile to be turned on the royal 
 troops, at the sound of the first gun, Cardinal 
 Mazarin only remarked, ' Ah ! Mademoiselle has 
 killed her husband.' Gallantly as he has played 
 it, De Retz has a losing game : the Conde is 
 against him, and his reliance on Orleans — we 
 all know what that is." 
 
 " Your young monarch," continued D'Argen- 
 teuil, " must then resume his devoirs to one of 
 Mazarin's nieces."
 
 92 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 " They say," returned Joinville, " that our own 
 Louis is his rival there. Mafoi, the suhtle Italian 
 knows well how to weave his net. If the fair 
 Mancini manages the son as her uncle has ma- 
 naged the mother, France is but a heir-loom to 
 the Mazarins." 
 
 " If we were hut as civilised as those Turks — 
 who, but that we zealous ones consider you papists 
 as the more pressing danger, would doubtless ere 
 this have been the objects of another crusade — 
 all these marriages would be easily arranged. 
 Charles Stuart might have one wife for money — 
 your own Montpensier, for example ; another for 
 his home interests — my Frances Cromwell ; a 
 third — the Mancini — for a foreign alliance ; while 
 let the fourth be chosen for love, unless there be 
 any other advantage to be gained." 
 
 " Mr. Evelyn never makes unnecessary diffi- 
 culties," replied D'Argenteuil, in a sarcastic tone. 
 " But the night is far advanced ; I think we need 
 now dread no attack ; so I drink my farewell, and 
 thanks to Monsieur Corregio Bournonville for 
 his hospitality." 
 
 D'Argenteuil set down the cup, and, bending 
 courteously to the strangers, withdrew. 
 
 Evelyn lingered for a moment, took from 
 Francesca a few early violets — Madelon's gift,
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 93 
 
 the first of their small garden — and, placing them 
 beside the little bunch of straw which hung from 
 his button-hole, " They will be scarce withered 
 ere I am again at your feet,'' and followed his 
 companions. 
 
 " Why, Evelyn," exclaimed Joinville, " in 
 what profound mystery you had enveloped your 
 beautiful Italian ! Remember I am not on honour, 
 and shall do my utmost to rival you." 
 
 M I pity all who take fruitless trouble," said 
 Evelyn, carelessly. 
 
 " I understand now," added D'Argenteuil, 
 " what made our volunteer so ready to accompany 
 us. I believe, however, Mr. Evelyn usually has 
 some reason for his actions.' \ 
 
 " Could I give a fairer one?" laughingly re- 
 plied Evelyn. 
 
 D'Argenteuil was, however, wrong in his sup- 
 position. The young Englishman had only joined 
 his party from mere love of adventure, for he was 
 recklessly brave ; and Francesca's arrival in Paris 
 was as little known to him as to the rest of the 
 party. 
 
 The heavy door had scarcely closed, when 
 Francesca, leaning her head on Guido's shoulder, 
 burst into a passion of tears.
 
 94 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 "Is he not altered ?" asked she, in an almost 
 inaudible voice. 
 
 "You must make allowances," said her cousin, 
 soothingly, " for the different manner of the coun- 
 tries ; he has been talking carelessly, and before 
 others." But he thought not what he said, and 
 both retired to a sad and reflective pillow. 
 
 So much for anticipation in this life! Had 
 Francesca been asked that morning what would 
 give her the most perfect happiness, she would 
 unhesitatingly have replied, her meeting with 
 Evelyn. They had met, and she was sorrowful 
 even to weeping. Ah ! hope fulfilled is but a 
 gentler word for disappointment.
 
 95 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 " History is but a tiresome thing in itself — it becomes the more 
 agreeable the more romance is mixed up with it." 
 
 Crotchet Castle. 
 
 " Children and fools speak truth," muttered 
 Evelyn, as he parted that night from Joinville, 
 and meditated on the return of Mazarin, which 
 the other had so lightly prophesied. M If so, I 
 am paying court in the wrong quarter; and the 
 promises made by De Retz of assistance to our 
 cause, when he becomes minister, are as vain as 
 promises usually are. Well ! I will attend the 
 meeting at the Duke of Orleans' to-morrow, and 
 the gales of La Fronde must blow fairer than 
 they do now for me to sail by. The safe way 
 will be to leave Paris ; — but then that lovely 
 Francesca ! I am much mistaken if the least 
 hint, backed by that high-sounding word duty, 
 will not be sufficient excuse for absence ; and if
 
 96 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 Mazarin returns, her connexion with his nieces 
 may be useful." 
 
 The next morning, Joinville was the first 
 person he encountered in the ante-chamber of 
 Monsieur. 
 
 " Have you heard the news ?" exclaimed he, 
 eagerly ; " the Prince of Conde has left Paris, 
 and the twenty-first is talked of as being the day 
 fixed for the king's entrance. The troops are 
 advancing every hour, and Mazarin is omnipotent 
 with Turenne." And the young Important, in his 
 delight at being the first to communicate a piece 
 of intelligence, seemed to forget that it was the 
 utter ruin of his party that he was announcing. 
 
 Evelyn made his way to the inner room, 
 where an assembled group were already engaged 
 in conference; but the voices were languid, and 
 the speakers hesitated ; each seemed waiting for 
 the other's opinion before he would venture his 
 own. Gaston of Orleans was seated in a fauteuil, 
 wrapped in a loose dressing-gown, every thing 
 about him betokening an indolent love of ease. 
 He had that striking likeness which characterises 
 all the Bourbons — and his first appearance was 
 dignified ; but when he spoke or moved, this 
 dignity, at least on ordinary occasions, was en- 
 tirely lost. He had a peculiarity in speaking,
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 97 
 
 strikingly indicative of his character. He began in 
 a clear voice and a decided tone, but before he 
 arrived at the end of a sentence, his voice sunk 
 so low as to be almost inaudible, and the meaning 
 became as confused as the sound. Never was 
 there a man less calculated for the chief of a 
 party ; rash in his commencements, he was never 
 prepared for their consequences. He had no con- 
 fidence in others; how could he, when he had 
 none in himself? Without judgment to foretell, 
 or nerve to meet, the dangers his impetuosity had 
 provoked, he never saw things as they actually 
 were — but usually took the view suggested by 
 any one at his elbow, to whom habit, or even 
 chance contact, gave a passing authority. 
 
 Marguerite of Lorraine was seated at his side. 
 Thin, pale, with that worn look which indicates 
 the broken spirit, or the habit of bodily suffering, 
 save in the still fine outline of feature, there was 
 slight remains of the beauty for which her hus- 
 band had dared so much, and yet endured so 
 little. She leant back feebly in her chair, like a 
 confirmed invalid ; but there was a feverish flush 
 upon her cheek, and a sparkle in her eye, that 
 betokened the keenest interest in what was going 
 on. A grave, quiet, and elderly man, the Presi- 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 98 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 dent, De Bellicore, stood near ; and between him 
 and Monsieur was the Coadjutor. 
 
 De Retz was now in the prime of life, and his 
 heavy ecclesiastical dress could not disguise his 
 light and even elegant figure, while his feet and 
 hands were of feminine size and delicacy ; but 
 here ended his personal advantages. His face was 
 plain, his brow was dark and knit, while the 
 clear grey eye was deep-seated, stern, and piercing; 
 his complexion was sallow, and the lines of his 
 countenance at once harsh and worn. Monsieur 
 was speaking when they entered, with much ani- 
 mation : 
 
 " War rests with myself — I have but to give 
 the signal, and we shall fight with greater spirit 
 than ever. Ask the Cardinal." 
 
 " Doubtlessly," said De Retz, bowing with the 
 most passive politeness. 
 
 " The people are with me?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " M. Le Prince would return at my request." 
 
 " Your wish would be his law." 
 
 " The Spanish army await but my bidding to 
 advance." 
 
 " So we have every reason to suppose," replied 
 the Cardinal, in the same uninterested tone of
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 99 
 
 mere and necessary acquiescence to the assertion 
 of a superior. 
 
 The Duke, who was quite unprepared for these 
 unlimited affirmatives, paused ; for he had ex- 
 pected difficulties to have been raised and ob- 
 stacles to have been confessed, to which he might 
 have yielded with something of a grace. But now, 
 that none denied the power to which he laid 
 claim, it seemed inevitable that he must propose 
 acting upon it. Madame could restrain herself 
 no longer : 
 
 " Out upon it, Gaston !" exclaimed she ; "we 
 are not playing Italian comedy. This is just like 
 Trivelin reproaching Scaramouch, ' What fine 
 things I should have said, if you had but had the 
 sense to contradict me !' It matters little what you 
 can do, the question is, what you will do V 
 
 The Coadjutor turned towards her, his whole 
 face changed by its altered expression. It was 
 impossible to imagine any thing more sweet, more 
 winning, than his smile ; it had all the effect of 
 sudden sunshine. Still he remained silent — when 
 Monsieur, turning towards him somewhat sul- 
 lenly, "Well, what do you say? is there any 
 safety in treating with the court?" 
 
 " None ; unless your highness make your
 
 100 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 own security," he replied, with an energy the 
 very reverse of his former manner. 
 
 " But you told me the King would not return 
 to Paris without compromising with me." 
 
 " I told you such was the Queen's assertion ; 
 but I also gave you my reasons for doubting that 
 such was the intention." 
 
 " I know Anne of Austria's smooth-lipped 
 falsehoods of old. All women are false enough — 
 but she has dissimulation for a whole sex. Verily 
 there must now be some surpassingly honest, for 
 she has engrossed the portion of deceit allotted 
 to many. Why, I had a letter this morning from 
 her, filled with professions of forgiveness and of 
 friendship." 
 
 " Your grace best knows, from experience, 
 what weight to attach to the Queen's honied 
 words," observed De Retz, who needed no further 
 clue to Monsieur's present irresolution. 
 
 " Does it not," asked the President, De Bel- 
 licore, " touch his grace's honour to ensure some 
 safety to the city and to the adherents who have 
 risked much in his cause ?" 
 
 " What would you advise?" exclaimed the 
 Duke, directing his question to the Coadjutor. 
 
 '* I venture not on advice," replied De Retz ;
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 101 
 
 but I will venture on laying before Monsieur the 
 bearings of his present position. Our difficulty is 
 to avoid being blamed as a faction, willing to draw 
 out the civil war to all eternity, or stigmatised as 
 traitors, ready to betray their party for their own 
 advantage. We have to advise you between peace 
 and war ; but with yourself the choice must rest. 
 If peace, you must submit at once to the Queen, 
 and allow the unconditional return of the court, 
 involving that of Mazarin — with all Paris at his 
 mercy. He, however, will not be vindictive ; 
 punishment suits neither with his temper nor his 
 interest. But you know Anne of Austria, and may 
 guess how her native bitterness will be excited by 
 the violence of Servien, the harshness of Tettier, 
 the impetuosity of Fouquet, and the foolishness of 
 Oudedey. And all this, it will be said, the Duke 
 of Orleans might have prevented by an effective 
 treaty, securing an act of indemnity." 
 
 " But how am I to obtain such treaty ?" asked 
 Monsieur, in a querulous tone. 
 
 " By active and defensive measures ; which 
 brings us to the second question of war. If war 
 there be, it must be made as if there was no such 
 thing as peace. You must arouse the good city 
 of Paris by a personal appeal — recall the Prince 
 de Conde, and act together in strict unity. You
 
 102 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 must confirm your treaty with the Spaniard ; and, 
 my life on the issue, you dictate your own terms. 
 But you must act at once. Permit me to con- 
 clude with the old legend of the English friar, 
 who framed unto himself a brazen head, endowed 
 with all sorts of magical properties. In the course 
 of time, this head was to speak ; and when the 
 hour of its finding a voice came, it was to com- 
 municate every thing in the world. The appointed 
 moment arrived — the image spoke, and said, 
 'Time was — time is' — but, alas! the friar was 
 sleeping at that precise instant. ' Time is past V 
 said the voice ; and the head was shivered into a 
 thousand pieces, leaving the luckless maker nothing' 
 but regret for having thus wasted the labours of a 
 life. Now, decision is our brazen image — the time 
 is, and is also rapidly passing away; in a short 
 while we shall be broken up and dispersed, even 
 like the fragments of the brazen head." 
 
 " Still," replied Monsieur, who had listened 
 with evident impatience, "if the King has resolved 
 on his return, it is not my duty to oppose it. I 
 must regret my inability at Blois : truly, quiet 
 and retirement will be very acceptable, after all 
 my fatigue and anxiety." 
 
 " Mon hon Dieu!" exclaimed Madame; "is 
 this language for a prince of France ? But if it
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 103 
 
 come to this, had we not better go with a good 
 grace to meet the King half-way 1" 
 
 " And where the devil should I go !" ejacu- 
 lated the Duke — and rising impetuously, went 
 into an inner apartment. 
 
 The Duchess followed him, but returned a 
 minute after — " His highness is at present disin- 
 clined for farther conference ; but begs me to offer 
 his thanks for your zeal in his cause." Saluting 
 the company, she again withdrew ; and for a mo- 
 ment there was a profound silence. 
 
 " It is vain, mon ami," said the President, De 
 Bellicore ; " however strong the arm, it cannot cut 
 down a forest with a broken axe." 
 
 " Well," returned De Retz, " let the worst 
 come to the worst ; I am still Cardinal, and Arch- 
 bishop of Paris — a temporary absence may be re- 
 quisite, but that will be spent at Rome — I have 
 made my reputation, and look to the future for 
 its fruits." 
 
 " And I must retire into my shell," replied 
 the President; " I have done with activity." 
 
 The council broke up j and Evelyn pursued 
 his way to Bournonville's, fully resolved on leav- 
 ing Paris. He found Francesca somewhat pale, 
 but beautiful even as a painter's dream of beauty. 
 Her picturesque costume, too, increased the effect,
 
 104 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 for she had as yet had no time either to observe or 
 follow the fashion of the French. She wore neither 
 the rouge, the powder, nor the frizzed hair, so 
 universal at this period ; but her rich dark tresses 
 were bound with classical simplicity round a head 
 small like that of a greyhound; and she wore a 
 black silk dress close up to the throat, with loose 
 sleeves, like the garb of the novices of the convent 
 where she had been partly educated. 
 
 Her manner was at first constrained, but it 
 gradually became kind, as if she reproached her- 
 self for her involuntary coldness ; while Evelyn 
 expressed his regret at his being obliged so soon 
 to leave her, and enlarged upon the necessity of 
 stating to Charles the turn in affairs. 
 
 " My father blames the part I have taken in 
 the Stuart cause ; and perhaps I had studied our 
 interest more" — and here a gentle stress was laid 
 on the words — " had I disguised my feelings. 
 But, methinks, every spark of generosity and 
 spirit must arouse for the exiled and the unfortu- 
 nate. I loathe the canting Roundheads, from 
 their straight hair to their long sermons ; and 
 pant for the hour when, instead of the low-bred 
 hypocrite who now holds sway in England, the 
 throne will be filled by our young, free, and gal- 
 lant prince."
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 105 
 
 " You were not such an advocate of the 
 Stuarts in Italy," said Francesca. 
 
 " Forsooth, my beauty," replied her lover, 
 laughing, " I had not then seen how all the pretty 
 faces in England are being spoilt by their straight 
 caps and close coifs. I should renounce the Puri- 
 tans, were it but for the sake of those glossy 
 tresses. And now, sweetest, keep your chamber 
 closely till I return. I love not that gay gallants 
 of Paris should hawk round my dovecot." 
 
 " Your caution seems to me most needless," 
 replied the Italian, the haughty blood of her race 
 rushing to her brow. 
 
 " Nay, I meant not to offend ; but who can 
 have a miser's treasure, and not guard it with 
 a miser's care ? And now, farewell ; I leave my 
 fetters on you." So saying, he flung over her 
 neck a small Venetian chain of delicately wrought 
 gold : " So light, yet so firm, are the links which 
 bind my heart!" 
 
 Francesca leant by the window after he was 
 gone, and, almost unaware, watched his graceful 
 figure recede from her sight ; and it seemed like a 
 relief when she could see him no more. 
 
 " And this, then," thought she, " is incon- 
 stancy — that inconstancy of which the tales of my 
 native land are so full. It no longer excites my 
 f2
 
 106 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 wonder, for I feel in myself how involuntary is 
 change. I may control my words, tutor my looks, 
 nay, curb my very thoughts ; but my feelings are 
 beyond my power. Can I force myself to rejoice, 
 as I once rejoiced, in the least look of Evelyn ? 
 Can I bid my heart beat with delight at but the 
 echo of his step? Can I persuade myself, that only 
 to breathe the very air he breathes is happiness, 
 when I know that his presence revolts and chills 
 me ? I may be faithful to the letter, but, ah ! not 
 to the spirit of my vow. False and ungrateful 
 that I am, I do not love him now! Holy Ma- 
 donna ! must it be in myself that I first find that 
 want of true affection which we are warned to 
 expect in the world ? or is it the heartlessness of 
 this great city which thus affects me?" 
 
 She looked down, and marked where her 
 large tears had fallen, like rain -drops, on her 
 black dress. 
 
 " Alas !" exclaimed she, " I have cause to 
 weep — I must weep over my own changefulness, 
 and over the sweetest illusions of my youth. I 
 feel suddenly grown old. Never more will the 
 flowers seem so lovely, or the stars so bright. 
 Never more shall I dwell on Erminia's deep and 
 enduring love for the unhappy Tancred, and think 
 that I too could so have loved. Ah ! in what now
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 107 
 
 can I believe, when I may not trust even my own 
 heart?" 
 
 Ay, love teaches many lessons to a woman ; 
 but its last and worst must be when she learns to 
 know that it is not eternal — that it can depart, 
 and leave a scar never to be effaced, and a void 
 never to be filled.
 
 108 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 " There seemed to me no achievement of which I was not 
 capahle, and of which I was not ambitious. In imagination 
 I shook thrones and founded empires." — Contarini Fleming. 
 
 Our inexperienced travellers * could scarcely be- 
 lieve, the next day, that Paris was the same city 
 which they had seen on their first arrival, — full of 
 barricades, armed groups, defiance, and discontents. 
 A bright sunny morning ushered the public 
 entrance of the King, triumphant as if La Fronde 
 had never existed. White flags waved from the 
 windows ; flowers were flung down in profusion ; 
 not a voice was raised but in huzzas — not a hand 
 but in applause. Preceded by the richly capa- 
 risoned guards, care had been taken to give them 
 the appearance of an escort necessary to dignity — 
 but not to security. Mounted on a snow-white 
 horse, whose trappings of scarlet and gold swept 
 the ground, and whose curvettings served but 
 to shew the graceful management of the rider; 
 his purple velvet cloak fastened with jewels, and
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 109 
 
 his whole garb glittering with worked silver, the 
 young monarch might well win and fix the eye. 
 Never was kino; more skilled in the science of his 
 high place than Louis ; he was well aware of the 
 power of the pomp that dazzles, and the state that 
 awes — well did he know how to excite the enthu- 
 siasm which he only seemed to permit. He ac- 
 knowledged the acclamations of the multitude, 
 now by a wave of the hand scarce amounting to 
 a sign, and now by a slight inclination of the 
 head, which just bent the light plumes of his hat. 
 But when he passed the statue of Henri Quatre he 
 uncovered, and the sun shone full on his bright 
 and falling curls, which fell like light on each side 
 of his young but grave and noble countenance. 
 
 The people rent the air with their shouts, — it 
 was as if he thus publicly pledged himself to fol- 
 low the example of his popular predecessor. He 
 passed on, followed by a brilliant train ; and, long 
 before night, old grievances, parliaments, Ma- 
 zarin, and all, were merged in eulogiums on the 
 young sovereign. Events followed each other ra- 
 pidly : De Retz — the popular, the beloved — was 
 arrested, without so much as a crowd in the streets ; 
 and thus ended the celebrated league his ambition 
 had fomented, his spirit animated, and his genius 
 maintained. Years of exile and privation fol-
 
 110 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 lowed ere the return of the bold agitator was per- 
 mitted. To those who have sympathised in the 
 energy and daring of his earlier life, it seems 
 marvellous to hear him mentioned in the gentle 
 language of one of Madame de Sevigne's letters, 
 where he is spoken of as a peculiarly mild and 
 gentlemanlike old man, especially kind to the 
 young, whose society he seemed to enjoy. 
 
 Mazarin immediately resumed his former 
 power ; and Bournonville early one morning an- 
 nounced, not only the return of Madame de Mer- 
 cceur to Paris, but also that he had communicated 
 to her who were his guests. Almost before he 
 had delivered his message, the Duchesse's carriage 
 arrived, with a brief but affectionate note, entreat- 
 ing the immediate presence of her earnest friends. 
 They soon reached the hotel, whose thronged 
 court-yard told how many were the courtiers to 
 the minister's nieces. 
 
 Francesca and Guido, accustomed to be their 
 own heralds in the lonely Italian palace, were 
 startled by the sudden contrast of the many do- 
 mestics and the numberless visitors who choked up 
 the passages and the ante-room. The chamber into 
 which they were ushered was filled with people ; 
 but both the Duchesse and Marie came forward 
 and received them with every mark of kindness and
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. Ill 
 
 • 
 
 affection. But Francesca's eye was quick to remark 
 that Mademoiselle Mancini's manner to Guido 
 was wholly changed. Some emotion was per- 
 ceptible — a hurried voice, a slight tremour, a 
 heightened colour ; but these signs were instantly 
 checked, and her air indicated a degree of su- 
 periority, even patronage, very different to the 
 simple and warm welcome of her sister. So many 
 guests thronged the apartment, that exclusive at- 
 tention to any was out of the question ; and after 
 a hasty presentation to the Due de Mercceur, the 
 strangers were inevitably left much to themselves. 
 Francesca gazed round, as we gaze in some 
 half- waking dream, of whose illusion we seem 
 aware, and yet partake. The glittering crowd, 
 whose high - sounding names ever and anon 
 reached her ear — the magnificent room — the 
 splendour of the dresses — the diamonds shin- 
 ing amid the elaborately curled tresses she had 
 been accustomed to see in their native darkness, 
 their summer ornament the half-blown rose, and 
 their winter -wreath the myrtle-branch — all op- 
 pressed her with the sense of change. She saw 
 at once how wide a gulf had opened between 
 herself and her early friends, and she felt that 
 they never again could be what they had been to 
 each other. There might be benefit on one side,
 
 112 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 » 
 
 and obligation on the other ; but their reciprocity 
 of affection, their mutual exchange of small kind- 
 nesses — those strongest rivets of common attach- 
 ment — were no more. 
 
 Guido's thoughts were very different to his 
 cousin's : he partook not in her depression — his 
 eye was caught by the scene before him, its novelty 
 excited his imagination, and he was wrapt in the 
 happiness of again seeing Marie. He was strong, 
 too, in the conscious superiority of talent — that 
 first hope of genius, as yet unchecked by circum- 
 stances, and unbroken by experience. He leant 
 by the window, half alive to the gorgeous picture 
 which moved around him, and half lost in deli- 
 cious dreams of all the splendid impossibilities 
 which he was to achieve. 
 
 Nothing at first frames such false estimates as 
 an imaginative temperament. It finds the power 
 of creation so easy, the path it fashions so actual, 
 that no marvel for a time hope is its own se- 
 curity, and the fancied world appears the true 
 copy of the real. How much of disappointment— - 
 what a bitter draining of the cup of mortification 
 to the dregs — does it take, to sober down the 
 ardour, and chain the winged thoughts of a mind 
 so constituted ! Let any, now perhaps staid with 
 care, and grave with many sorrows, but who once
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 113 
 
 indulged in the romance born of enthusiasm and 
 ignorance — let them recall the visions in which 
 their youth delighted, while they smile at their 
 folly, or sigh over their sweetness. Moreover, 
 the lover and the friend ask very different foun- 
 dations for their confidence. The one invests 
 all things with the poetry with which himself is 
 imbued ; the other, of necessity, examines into 
 their truth. Again — love cares not for dis- 
 tinctions ; but friendship cannot exist without 
 equality. 
 
 Francesca, too, was suffering under the em- 
 barrassment of singularity. Alive only to the 
 happiness of again meeting her friends, she had 
 not thought of her own appearance ; and she 
 was painfully aware that her Italian costume was 
 a complete contrast to the garb of the other ladies 
 present. She caught many looks directed towards 
 her, but all of curiosity — none of interest. She 
 heard the groups laughing and talking around, 
 but not one voice addressed to her. Good heavens ! 
 the isolation of a crowd — that bitter blending of 
 solitude and shame, when you fancy every one 
 that passes casts on you an invidious or scornful 
 glance, and yet are perfectly aware that they do 
 not care — scarcely know — whether you are a 
 human being like themselves ! It is in vain to
 
 114 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 say this is over-sensitiveness ; weakness though it 
 be, it is very universal. 
 
 Francesca would have rejoiced only to see a 
 face she had ever seen before, — when, as if to 
 shew the folly of wishes, one appeared. It was 
 the Chevalier de Joinville, the cavalier who 
 accompanied D'Argenteuil the night when forcible 
 possession was taken of Bournonville's house. 
 He remained for some minutes opposite the young 
 Italian, with that fixed yet impertinent gaze which 
 it is equally impossible to escape or to endure. 
 Her evident annoyance, however, appeared to 
 produce no other effect upon him than a desire 
 to increase it by addressing her ; 
 
 " I am happy to see," said he, approaching 
 her, " that the bloom of la signora is not affected 
 by her late vigil." 
 
 Now, if there be one thing in the world more 
 provokingly insolent than another, it is a personal 
 compliment from a stranger, whom you consider 
 to have not even the right of speaking to you. 
 Francesca was too new to society to possess the 
 art of seeming neither to hear, see, nor understand, 
 excepting what it is your own good pleasure so to 
 do; she therefore replied by a slight bend and a 
 deepened blush. 
 
 " Our English cavalier has left Paris on a
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 115 
 
 bootless errand ; for the news arrived this morning, 
 that the daughter of the pious regicide is married 
 to some young nobleman, whose name I have 
 forgotten. Has Mr. Evelyn your permission for 
 any length of absence ?" 
 
 Now, this was really too much : Francesca felt 
 at once enraged and powerless. How is that im- 
 pertinence to be checked, to which silence is no 
 rebuke ; and which, yet, is your only method of 
 marking your displeasure? 
 
 But a thoroughly unselfish temper is singu- 
 larly alive to the feelings of others. While 
 Marie Mancini, engrossed by the amusement of 
 the minute, had no attention to give beyond the 
 gay converse of the group around her, Madame 
 de Mercceur had never quite lost sight of the 
 stranger. She had observed the whole of De 
 Joinville's manner. Perhaps, too, a little pride 
 might blend with her kindness : she had been too 
 much accustomed to homage to tolerate for a 
 moment the young courtier's supercilious manner 
 to one whom she protected. Advancing to where 
 Francesca stood, she took her arm, and said, in a 
 tone of affectionate familiarity, " Cara arnica mia, 
 — I love to speak to you in our native language, 
 though, do you know, I have somewhat lost its 
 practice, — how have you formed acquaintance
 
 116 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 with one so dangerous as the Chevalier de Join- 
 ville, — are you aware that you have risked your 
 peace of mind for ever?" 
 
 " Nay," replied Francesca, laughing ; for, like 
 a true woman, she saw her vantage-ground, and 
 instantly took it ; " it were hard that misfortune 
 should be punished like a fault. Never was there 
 a more involuntary acquaintance — it was made 
 by force of arms. Monsieur was one of the party 
 who entered M. Bournonville's house the night 
 my brother and myself arrived." 
 
 "Ah! our little Corregio, " answered the 
 Duchesse, " told us somewhat of this; but, with 
 his usual prudence, would not name the cavaliers. 
 Now, Monsieur le Frondeur, what faith may we 
 place in the devotion you have just been pro- 
 fessing to my sister and to myself?" 
 
 Joinville bit his lip ; but instantly recovering 
 himself, replied, " Pardon me if the feeling 
 born of your presence did not exist previous to 
 such influence ; and, as a pledge of forgiveness, 
 introduce me to your friend, who seems rather to 
 resent than appreciate the ready memory of ad- 
 miration." 
 
 The chevalier's manner was now completely 
 altered ; and Francesca wondered within herself 
 that he could be so amusing, as he exerted himself
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 117 
 
 to describe the various visitors who flitted to and 
 fro. And yet, when he withdrew, she blamed 
 herself for being amused — so completely had it 
 been at the expense of others. But ill-nature is 
 inevitable in those who " season their discourse 
 with personal talk." De Joinville only aimed at 
 being entertaining ; and what is there entertaining 
 about people in general, but their faults, follies, 
 and peculiarities, served up with the sauce piquant 
 of epigrammatic epithet and of ludicrous inference? 
 At length the crowded apartment gradually 
 cleared. Drawing Francesca's arm within her own, 
 the Duchesse gave orders that no more visitors 
 were to be admitted ; and the little party ad- 
 journed to sup in an adjacent room.
 
 J18 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 " It is a difficult thing to paint the pleasures of youth ; for, 
 after all, the real enjoyment is in being yo.ang." 
 
 The Duchesse's boudoir was fitted up in a style of 
 luxury utterly different from any thing before 
 familiar to the Carraras. They had been accus- 
 tomed to the extensive halls, the large pictures, 
 the mosaic floors, the marble pillars, whose ro- 
 mantic magnificence belonged to other times. Here 
 the splendour was more adapted to the actual en- 
 joyments of the present day. The walls were hung 
 with blue silk, edged with silver fringe ; and the 
 closely - drawn blue velvet curtains swept the 
 ground. On one side was a dressing-table covered 
 with white satin, whose border of flowers, wrought 
 in rich and natural colours, emulated those of April. 
 On it stood a mirror in a frame of curiously cut 
 crystal and silver ; and scattered round lay half- 
 open boxes, whose glittering contents were equally
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 119 
 
 precious and fanciful ; and flung down carelessly, 
 as if in thoughtless haste, was a diamond carcanet, 
 whose rich gems reflected in every angle the blaze 
 of the two large waxen tapers placed in branches 
 extending from the mirror. Near were two cu- 
 riously carved cabinets, one in ebony, the other 
 in ivory, from each of which exhaled a delicious 
 perfume. An immense Venetian glass occupied the 
 farther end of the room, and, just opposite, hung 
 a picture of the King. The couches and fauteuils 
 were of crimson damask ; and drawn towards the 
 fire was the supper-table. The domestics being 
 dismissed, all gathered round, and Guido's place 
 was beside Mademoiselle Mancini. 
 
 " Do," said she, smiling, " let me give you 
 some of these diminutive mushrooms ; with what 
 a feeling of triumph I enjoy them! When Made- 
 moiselle was enacting the part of the modern 
 Maid of Orleans, that town supplied the court 
 with provisions ; and, a somewhat unheroic em- 
 ploy for the fair Thalestris, she commanded that 
 our future breakfasts, dinners, suppers, &c. should 
 be brought her; among other articles she found 
 some mushrooms, seizing upon which, she threw 
 them aside — ' They are too delicate/ exclaimed 
 the Montpensier ; l I will not have the Cardinal 
 eat them!'"
 
 120 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 " A very feminine little bit of spite," said the 
 Due de Mercceur. 
 
 " Now why do you say feminine?" exclaimed 
 Francesca ; "I think I could remember many 
 small instances of masculine vengeance." 
 
 " I observe," rejoined Marie, " we are always 
 blamed ; but, after all, Mademoiselle's revenge 
 told. For my part, if I had a lover, I should 
 give him all sorts of nice things to eat. I believe 
 the pleasures of childhood, being translated, means 
 the comfits and confections with which we were 
 regaled. As for myself, I candidly own to being 
 greedy." 
 
 " Did not the King," said Madame de Mer- 
 cceur, " admire your pretty fingers while stripping 
 the grapes the other day?" 
 
 " I think," replied Marie, laughing, " that 
 great science, the science of grace, which I con- 
 sider one of the fine arts, may be displayed in 
 eating a bunch of grapes. First, there is the stalk 
 to be poised in one hand, then the small fingers 
 are to be put in motion while picking the berries 
 of the purple fruit one by one; then a pretty 
 eagerness may be evinced, and a half smile shews 
 at once your teeth and your dimples ; and all this 
 without that constant suspicion of display which 
 attends your bending over a lute."
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 121 
 
 " We must send a fleet to Lisbon on purpose 
 for grapes, my pretty sister," said the Duke. 
 
 " Have you heard," continued Marie, " the 
 new version M. de Rochefoucault has given of his 
 celebrated epigram on Madame de Longueville? 
 Joinville was telling it to me to-day." 
 
 " And he told me," added the Duchesse, " that 
 the lady, since the death of the Due de Nemours, 
 has taken to la haute devotion. By the by, this is 
 the second lover she has lost in a duel ; her first, 
 Coligni, was killed by the Due de Guise." 
 
 " Her face," said Guido, " has all the mourn- 
 ful loveliness of one of Coreggio's Magdalens." 
 
 " Hush, hush !" said Marie, " we do not allow 
 her beauty ; I forewarn you against admitting that 
 a single trace remains." 
 
 " You will see the court to great advantage 
 to-morrow," said the Duchesse, addressing Fran- 
 cesca. " We are on the eve of a most delightful 
 fete — we are going to put Amadis of Gaul into 
 rehearsal ; the King and the principal nobles will 
 ride at the ring to-morrow. The King himself 
 leads the first band, the Due de Guise the second, 
 the Due de Candale " 
 
 " The Due de Guise," said Mercceur, " is quite 
 my beau ideal of a hero of the days of chivalry. 
 
 VOL. i. g
 
 122 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 His adventures, whether of love or war, seem 
 like the old Provengal ballads; my only marvel 
 is, where in these days he finds his romantic 
 materiel" 
 
 " In himself," returned Marie; " but I do 
 wonder you can mention him with the Due de 
 Candale — there is le vrai heros de roman. I ad- 
 mire him, if it were only for his spirited rejection 
 of my cousin Martinozzi's hand." 
 
 " She will have cause to thank him," said 
 Mercosur gravely, " if it be true that it is now 
 asked by the Prince de Conti." 
 
 "The Prince de Conti?" exclaimed she, in 
 reply, " impossible ! I laugh at the very idea." 
 
 " Time will shew," said the Duchesse, evidently 
 wishing to change the conversation. " De Join- 
 ville tells me " 
 
 " It is quite singular," interrupted her hus- 
 band, " I seem never to hear a piece of news 
 but it is prefaced with ' De Joinville tells me !' " 
 
 " Well," continued Madame de Mercoeur, " his 
 present intelligence is, that the colours of the Due 
 de Guise are blue and white, those of the Due de 
 Candale green and white ; but that those worn by 
 his Majesty remain a profound secret." 
 
 " Ah!" exclaimed Marie, brightening up from
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 123 
 
 a somewhat sullen silence, " you have not seen 
 my new dress : it is perfect. It ought so to be, 
 for I had his Grace's advice upon Jhe subject." 
 
 At this moment a noise was heard, as if of 
 coming guests. 
 
 " How is this ?" said the Duchesse. ' l I had 
 given orders that no one should be admitted." 
 
 " But we/' replied the tallest of two cavaliers 
 who entered muffled up in cloaks, " wouW only 
 take a denial from your own lips." 
 
 " Ah, your Grace," exclaimed Madame de 
 Mercoeur, " how easy it is to command when the 
 command can only be obeyed with pleasure !" 
 
 " Are you," said the King — for the visitors 
 were Louis himself, and his brother, the Comte 
 d'Artois — and addressing himself more especially 
 to Mademoiselle Mancini, " preparing for the 
 fatigues of to-morrow 1" 
 
 " Not so," she replied ; " but we were closeted 
 to talk over old times with old friends." 
 
 Francesca smiled ; for it could not but occur to 
 her how little these said old times had been men- 
 tioned, the whole conversation having turned ex- 
 clusively on present topics. Again, she felt there 
 was nothing in common between them ; and how 
 painful it is to discover this, when our attachment 
 seems to ourselves a thing of course ! This, how-
 
 124 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 ever, was but a passing thought; for, naturally 
 enough, her whole attention was fixed upon their 
 illustrious visitor. Smilingly repeating his de- 
 claration that he was incog., — a wandering cava- 
 lier, who merely sought to sun himself in their 
 bright eyes, and then to depart, — still, while 
 waving the observances of his rank, he yet per- 
 mitted them to be paid. All knelt as they kissed 
 his hgftid, and all remained standing while he 
 seated himself in the fauteuil from which the 
 Duchesse had just risen. Discovering, with the 
 quick eye of those accustomed to watch every 
 shade of manner, that Louis, transient as was the 
 glance he flung round, had observed the Italians, 
 Madame de Mercoeur said, " We will not intrude 
 upon your Grace our childish reminiscences, but — " 
 
 " Nay," interrupted the King very graciously, 
 for he had noted the singular beauty of Francesca, 
 " I will not allow one of the party to be disturbed, 
 not even little Mignon," patting a small snow- 
 white dog that belonged to Mademoiselle Mancini, 
 whose eyes flashed as she thought that it was her 
 favourite that was thus honoured by the roya^ 
 notice. She knelt down to caress it, thus, as if 
 by chance, kneeling beside Louis's chair. 
 
 There was a slight family likeness between 
 the brothers, but the resemblance extended no
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 125 
 
 farther. The Comte d'Artois had neither the 
 dignified nor the manly air of his brother — he 
 rather appeared like a pretty-looking girl, so 
 effeminate was he and fair. He had more, to^ 
 of the lively bearing of youth, and indulged in a 
 Heckless and even noisy gaiety, the very reverse of 
 the other's grave composure. 
 
 It was rather odd that those former remi- 
 niscences, to which allusion had been made, should 
 in reality become the subject of discourse from the 
 questions of a stranger; yet so it was. Partly 
 from that courtesy which, when it interfered not 
 with his enjoyment, was Louis's great characteristic, 
 he immediately turned the conversation to what 
 he supposed had been the preceding dialogue. 
 There was some curiosity, too, in it; for those 
 who depend much on others for their amusement 
 are always curious, especially when conversation 
 is a great staple of entertainment. People are 
 apt to mistake this, and fancy the attention given 
 to their details is a proof of the interest taken in 
 themselves; it is merely that their auditors are 
 attracted by novelty. Louis had the topics of the 
 hour twisted into every possible shape to amuse 
 him ; but he had never thought about his favourites, 
 the Mancinis, having even lived before he knew 
 them : their existence, in his memory, was dated
 
 126 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 from their arrival in France. Their early days 
 were, therefore, quite delightful, because quite new. 
 
 " Ruel," exclaimed the youthful monarch, in- 
 •rrupting their description of how, in the myrtle 
 and ilex woods, they used to recite Tasso and act 
 his scenes, " Ruel will be the very place for itj 
 we must get up a ballet there, with characters 
 from your favourite poet ; I will be Rinaldo, De 
 Guise shall be Tancred, you," turning to Made- 
 moiselle Mancini, " Armida, and " 
 
 " We will keep Clorinda for the northern 
 Amazon about to visit us," interrupted his brother ; 
 " she will understand the character." 
 
 " Nay," replied Louis, with a half smile, " but 
 the ballet shall be one of the fetes we meditate in 
 her honour. Demi-savage as the Swede is, of 
 course royalty must be royally entertained." 
 
 " Such a description," said Marie, " as I heard 
 to-day ! I understand that she wears a sword, and 
 a buff waistcoat for a boddice — military hat, boots, 
 and sash — gloves she disdains ; and that her 
 peruke would do honour to Marshal Turenne 
 himself." 
 
 " I hear," added Madame de Mercceur, " that 
 she is awfully clever, speaks eight languages, and 
 would put the Academy and the Sorbonne united 
 to shame."
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 127 
 
 " Ah !" exclaimed the-Comte d'Artois, who had 
 been sitting for some minutes apparently quite 
 absorbed in meditation, " I have imagined such 
 an exquisite costume for Tancred ! No, no ; you 
 shall not anticipate my intention." 
 
 " But we are forgetting, in our future plans, 
 the fete of to-morrow. Mercosur," said the King, 
 " summon the page who waits in the ante- 
 chamber." 
 
 The boy was called, and, dropping on his 
 knee, presented a small coffer, which, as it opened, 
 diffused a strong but delicious fragrance. It con- 
 tained those delicate gloves for which Spain was 
 then so famous. 
 
 " Will you not wear these to-morrow?" said 
 the King, offering one pair to Madame de Mer- 
 coeur ; then, turning to her sister, he added, " I 
 only hope yours are small enough for those mignon 
 hands." 
 
 Francesca observed that the gloves given to 
 the Duchesse were embroidered in white and 
 silver ; but those of Mademoiselle Mancini were 
 worked with scarlet and gold, and fastened by a 
 scarlet cord round the wrist. The party imme- 
 diately broke up, as all were to rise early the 
 following morning. 
 
 It was long before Francesca slept ; we are so
 
 128 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 much the creatures of habit, that any great change 
 has the effect of a moral chill. We dread the 
 future, unless it comes upon us imperceptibly ; — 
 whenever we anticipate, unless under some strong 
 excitement of joy, we always fear. There are so 
 many clangers, so many disappointments, and so 
 many sorrows, ready to beset the human path, 
 that we cannot but expect some at least to fall to 
 our lot. The truth is, the young Italian was in a 
 state of the utmost depression ; and those subtle 
 emotions we call being in good or bad spirits are 
 utterly beyond our control. The weight of one 
 sad thought pressed upon every other ; she at once 
 saw the hopelessness of Guido's attachment, and 
 fancied she understood Marie's inconstancy by 
 her own altered feelings. She, who knew him 
 with the entire knowledge of perfect affection, 
 knew well what the effect would be — wretched- 
 ness, the most complete, the most lasting, and the 
 most irrevocable. Could it be the Mancinis — the 
 impoverished and forgotten inhabitants of the de- 
 solate palace by the pine-wood — who were now the 
 glittering idols of a court, favourites of Europe's 
 most powerful monarch, and whose intercourse 
 with them was one of the most unrestrained fami- 
 liarity? — witness his visit of that very evening. 
 Again and again she marvelled what were Marie
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 129 
 
 Mancini's expectations — unbounded, she could 
 well suppose. Generally speaking, we are incre- 
 dulous of the good fortune of our friends, and, 
 even though loving them, undervalue their quali- 
 ties ; the success of our greatest intimates takes 
 us by surprise. But this was a singular in- 
 stance; the change in her former companions' 
 position had burst so suddenly upon Francesca, 
 that she was more inclined to exaggerate than to 
 diminish its extent. The very difference she felt 
 between herself and them — she a stranger, friend- 
 less but for their kindness, in a foreign land — 
 mad* the contrast more forcible ; and she at last 
 fell asleep, with the vision before her eyes of the 
 Cardinal's triumphant niece— %a crowned queen! 
 
 g2
 
 130 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 " Incessant in the games your strength display ; 
 Contest, ye brave ! the honours of the day." 
 
 Odyssey. 
 
 It was a boast of Napoleon, that the very weather 
 owned the influence of his auspicious star, — his 
 triumphal entry, his procession, or his fete, were 
 always marked by sunshine. The* clouds were 
 equally complimentary to Louis XIV. ; no sky 
 could be brighter than that of the morning which 
 ushered in the festival ; and when Francesca took 
 her place on a temporary gallery erected for the 
 occasion, the coup oVozil more than realised the 
 descriptions in the old romances. The ground 
 appointed for .the course was the open space be- 
 tween the Palais Royal and the dwelling of the 
 English Queen; a palisade marked the career; 
 and at one end, just below the gallery where 
 Francesca sat, hung the ring, suspended from an 
 arch ornamented with laurel, and in the centre
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 131 
 
 the royal arms of France. Beside stood seneschals, 
 the appointed witnesses of the ensuing games. At 
 the other extremity were the gardens, now in the 
 full beauty of summer foliage ; and from Francesca's 
 seat being at the extremity, and the gallery being 
 a little curved, she commanded a panoramic sweep 
 of the whole scene. 
 
 Windows, balconies were alike crowded ; but 
 the most striking group was on the terrace in the 
 centre. Seated in an arm-chair, covered with 
 cloth of gold, was the Queen ; her robe was of 
 black velvet, edged with the richest sable ; and the 
 diadem at the back of her head confined the folds 
 of § long black Cyprus veil. Her mourning now 
 was but a ceremonious habit; nay, some said it 
 was persevered in for the contrast, so becoming, of 
 the dark garment with her still dazzlingly fair 
 skin and bright hair — yet it caught the eye mourn- 
 fully ; those sombre robes were the only indications 
 that life had one loss, one sorrow, or one change. 
 Madame de Mercceur and her sister stood on either 
 side ; and, leaning on the back of the chair, was 
 the Cardinal, looking both inattentive and weary, 
 and taking no part in the conversation going on 
 around him. Behind was a brilliant group of ladies 
 and nobles. 
 
 Suddenly a flourish of trumpets arose upon the
 
 132 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 air ; and, emerging from the middle avenue, came 
 a gallant company, to borrow a phrase from those 
 old romances whose picturesque descriptions the 
 present actors were emulating. Two stately elms 
 formed a natural arch, from beneath whose waving 
 boughs swept the band belonging to the King. 
 
 Francesca marked at the first glance that 
 their colours were white and scarlet ; and then she 
 noted that Marie Mancini wore a dress of white 
 damask, looped up and garnished with scarlet 
 ribands. " The embroidery on the gloves," 
 thought she, " was no chance selection." 
 
 The gay procession advanced. First came 
 fourteen pages, wearing fanciful costumes of si^er 
 tissue and scarlet ; they bore the long lances, and 
 the devices of the knights who followed them. 
 Then came six trumpeters, blowing a brave chal- 
 lenge, each note swelling more proudly than its 
 predecessor. Then came the squire, who mar- 
 shalled the King's own pages, twelve in number, 
 the last two of whom carried the royal lance, and 
 the royal scutcheon, on which was emblazoned a 
 rising sun, with the motto,— 
 
 " Ne piu, ne pari." 
 No superior, nor yet an equal. 
 
 Next rode the camp marshal, unmasked, and in
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 133 
 
 his usual costume. Then followed the ) T oung 
 monarch and his chevaliers, dressed after the 
 Roman fashion — the cuirass of gold, the robes 
 of frosted silver, the brodequins wrought with 
 gold and silver mixed ; and the casques were 
 of silver, with white plumes tipped with scarlet. 
 All were masked; but the King was easily dis- 
 tinguished by his snowy charger, whose mane was 
 fantastically knitted with scarlet ribands. Toge- 
 ther they rode round the circle, bending as they 
 passed the Queen till the feathers swept the 
 shining necks of their steeds. Again came the 
 bold challenge of the trumpets, and the troop of 
 the Due de Guise appeared, marshalled in the 
 same order, but garbed in blue and silver. Their 
 leader's romantic temperature shewed itself in one 
 peculiarity ; his horse, black as night when "the 
 summer's tempest is on the sky, was led behind 
 by two gigantic Moors, who by sign and word 
 subdued the beautiful and fiery animal to the slow 
 step of the procession. Trappings and housings 
 there were none ; and the slight silken bridle, 
 which looked like a fragile thread, needed indeed 
 a skilful hand if meant to control the noble crea- 
 ture. A page of singular, almost feminine beauty, 
 whose delicate complexion suited well the delicate 
 colours of his azure cap and plume, bore the
 
 134 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 graceful flattery of the Duke's ingenious device. 
 It represented a funeral pile, from whose embers a 
 phoenix was rising, animated by the sun, whose 
 light was its life. Beneath was inscribed in golden 
 letters, — 
 
 " Qu'importa que matou, se resucitan?" 
 What matters his destroying, if he revives ? 
 
 All took the courtly insinuation, for the Guise 
 had but lately been restored to royal favour. A 
 third call of the trumpets announced the approach 
 of the Due de Candale from the avenue on the 
 left. The livery of his company was forest green 
 and gold ; but perhaps he himself most attracted 
 Francesca's attention. He had not yet put on his 
 plumed casque, which a page on foot at his side 
 carried ; and he held his mask in his hand. It 
 was one of those faces — so pale, yet so beautiful, 
 with large melancholy blue eyes, and profusion 
 of fair golden hair — with that ethereal seeming, 
 whose associations are not of this earth — one of 
 those that we unconsciously connect with early 
 death. The presage here was prophecy ; — a little 
 while, and that youthful and brilliant head found 
 its pillow in the grave. After riding round the 
 circle, the three companies drew up in a line 
 before the narrow space which led to the point 
 where the ring hung.
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 135 
 
 " Ah!" exclaimed Madame de Brie, the old 
 lady to whose care Francesca had been especially 
 consigned by Madame de Mercceur, " these troubles 
 of La Fronde have sadly scattered the beauties 
 •which surrounded the throne. You should have 
 seen the court ten years ago." 
 
 " To me," replied Francesca, " the scene 
 appears as if it could not be surpassed ; but, then, 
 I have seen nothing of the kind before." 
 
 " True, true, my dear ; experience is every 
 thing — you are no judge till you begin to compare. 
 You, if it had been only to form your taste, should 
 have seen the beauties of the earlier period of the 
 regency. There was the queen herself; fifteen 
 years have somewhat palled the red and white of 
 a complexion which in its day was unparalleled. 
 Then there was the Duchesse de Longueville, 
 whose languid loveliness was that of the lily — the 
 flower sacred to her house ; Madame de Mont- 
 bazou, stately and dark-eyed like Juno, conjuring 
 every heart by one look of her splendid face ; or 
 Madame de Chatillion, the very queen of smiles, 
 and with a fascination even beyond her beauty. 
 They might at least recall Mademoiselle de Mont- 
 pensier — proud, but so fair, like the young queen 
 of Palmyra." 
 
 Madame de Brie had quite forgotten that
 
 136 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 fifteen years ago she had been equally eloquent in 
 favour of fifteen years before. Well, memory is a 
 very comfortable thing, usually adapting itself to 
 the prejudices of the present. 
 
 Fortunately, the commencement of the games 
 prevented Francesca from being quite overpowered 
 by the envy of beauties that had been. It was a 
 commencement worth the chivalric magnificence 
 of Louis's after-reign — the scene in those gardens ! 
 The fine old trees in the distance, so rich in 
 shadow, while the foreground was in broad sun- 
 shine — the long green alleys, along which rode 
 an occasional horseman, breathing his courser — 
 the terraces, crowded with the young, the gor- 
 geously arrayed, and the beautiful — the youthful 
 cavaliers, darting at full gallop down the narrow 
 palisade — the burst from the trumpets, that noblest 
 of music, as each competitor dashed at the ring, — 
 altogether formed a pageant in which Amadis of 
 Gaul might have taken a part before the eyes of 
 the peerless Oriana. 
 
 As yet none had been successful, and now the 
 three leaders were all that remained. Their pre- 
 cedence had been determined by lot, and the Due 
 de Candale was the first. He dashed forward — 
 his long lance touched the ring — it trembled; but 
 at that very moment his horse started — he passed,
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 137 
 
 and the quivering ring remained swinging to and 
 fro. Francesca, whose position enabled her to 
 discern the slightest movement, could not divest 
 herself of a suspicion that the start of the horse 
 had been provoked by the rider. The Due de 
 Guise came next ; he made but one bound from 
 the slender palfrey on which he rode at first, to 
 the noble charger that stood beside, pawing the 
 ground, as if disdainful of rest. On he darted with 
 the speed of hope, and his lance bore the ring off 
 triumphantly ; but while turning to salute the 
 fair spectators on his right, the prize, carelessly 
 balanced, fell to the ground ; and again Francesca 
 thought that the failure was intentional. The 
 young King now clapped spurs to his white steed, 
 which had stood champing with impatience till 
 his bit was covered with foam. A loud shout arose 
 from the spectators — Louis had carried off the ring ; 
 and, balancing it gracefully on his lance, he rode 
 round the circle ; the second time he stopped before 
 the Queen, and laid the prize at her feet. Two 
 pages advanced ; one took the spear, the other laid 
 hand on the bridle, and Louis sprung to the 
 ground ; then, ascending to where Anne of Austria 
 was seated, knelt before her. At the signal, Marie 
 de Mancini took his casque, and his mother flung 
 over his neck a silver chain, to which hung a star
 
 138 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 of rubies, and, in the style of the old romaunt, bade 
 him name the Queen of the Festival. Louis rose, 
 and, taking his casque from Marie, offered her the 
 red rose, which was to mark sovereignty for the 
 day. Her first glance was one of triumph — her 
 next was one of mingled admiration and grati- 
 tude for Louis ; and, accepting his offered hand, 
 they led the way to the banquet prepared in the 
 Palais Orion, — a favourite garden-house, where 
 they often had collations when the party was but 
 small, which was the case to-day. The Queen- 
 mother did not dine with them ; and only those 
 nobles who were of the three bands, and twenty- 
 four ladies. The banquet was gay but brief, as 
 preparations had been made for dancing. Made- 
 moiselle Mancini was led forth by Louis, who 
 entertained all with the chivalric gallantry suited 
 to his assumed character. The next dance she 
 declined, under pretext of fatigue — she had no 
 attention to give to another partner, and Louis's 
 last words were to engage her hand again ; and 
 truly she required rest, for every effort had been 
 exerted to amuse her royal listener.
 
 139 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Love is an offering of the whole heart, Madam — 
 A sacrifice of all that poor life hath ; 
 And he who gives his all, whate'er that he, 
 Gives greatly, and deserveth no one's scorn." 
 
 Barry Cornwall. 
 
 The tremulous pressure of Louis's hand yet 
 vibrating through every pulse of her own — his 
 last whispered words yet musical in her ear, Marie 
 hastily turned into one of the more shaded walks, 
 where the boughs, trained to meet overhead, and 
 the trellis-work on either side thick with creeping 
 and odoriferous shrubs, shut out all view but its 
 own green and winding path. Her cheek was 
 flushed, her eyes danced in light, and a frequent 
 smile passed like sudden sunshine over her face ; 
 vanity, in that moment of triumph, had all the 
 strength of a passion, — its enthusiasm — its ima- 
 gination ; every thing seemed possible — the future 
 rose palpable before her. Her eager and buoyant 
 step became more stately, as if already in the pre- 
 sence of her court ; already she granted favours,
 
 140 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 and requited injuries — for assuredly forgiveness 
 formed no part of her creed. She even put aside the 
 boughs with somewhat of an air of condescension. 
 
 " My first struggle/' thought she, " must be 
 against the influence of his mother. Gratitude ! 
 we owe none to Anne of Austria ! We are just the 
 puppets she destines for the amusement of her son 
 — toys to guard against graver thoughts — the 
 ornaments of the chariot, while she guides the 
 reins. Fickle — unloving, is there one about her 
 whom she would not sacrifice to her interests — 
 ay, even to her whims ?■ Holy Madonna ! but I 
 do respect my uncle's genius when it has so con- 
 trolled our false and wilful Queen ; — I may chance 
 to save him some future trouble." 
 
 It is singular the charm that youth flings over 
 both its exaggeration and its selfishness — perhaps 
 they are pardoned for their very unconsciousness. 
 Its expectations are unreasonable ; but they are 
 entertained in such good faith, that we first envy 
 and then excuse the state of mind which admits 
 them, and forgive their present folly, from our 
 conviction of their coming disappointment. It is 
 our own sense of superiority — the conscious supe- 
 riority of knowledge, dear bought by experience, 
 that makes us thus charitable. In youth, too, 
 selfishness is divested of its most obnoxious part —
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 141 
 
 its calculation ; it seems thoughtlessness — again 
 we pity, pardon, and fancy that amendment which 
 never comes. 
 
 There is something amiable in even believing 
 in our own good feelings, but it is an amiability 
 whose loveliness is even less lasting than that of 
 the complexion. Marie passed along — she had 
 arrived at an especially pleasant part of her reverie 
 — she was arranging her future household. 
 
 " I will be lenient," thought she, " to Mesdames 
 les Frondeurs ; they will be glad to get back on 
 any terms, and their high birth will be an answer 
 to the many who may urge claims on the plea of 
 having known me now. My sisters had better 
 marry foreign princes — it would be mortifying to 
 see them forced to yield precedence to any. As 
 for Henriette, that cannot be helped ; — an embassy 
 will be the thing for Mercosur." 
 
 How many more places might have been dis- 
 tributed by her incipient majesty it is impossible 
 to say, for the thread of her meditation was broken 
 by the sudden termination of the path. It ended 
 in one of those beautiful little nooks, which, girdled 
 in by shade, are yet full of sunshine ; the branches 
 close the sides, but the clear sky is overhead. In 
 the midst of a circular plot of grass was a small 
 fountain ; a nymph knelt amid the waters, and a
 
 142 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 little trickling stream fell from the urn by her 
 side with a low and musical murmur. Even the 
 small space of this fountain was a divided empire ; 
 the farther side was clear and glittering with the 
 golden daylight, but the nearer one lay dark in 
 shadow, for a large sombre branch hung directly 
 over it. The very gloom made it the better mir- 
 ror ; and Marie started as she saw her face reflected 
 side by side with that of the statue. For a moment 
 she smiled at the contrast of her own head, with 
 its ribands and its waving feathers, beside the 
 simply-wreathed hair of the marble figure. But 
 even as she looked, another thought arose in her 
 mind. The nymph was so like one that had been 
 a favourite in Guide's studio — a world of early 
 fancies, of tender recollections, were called up by 
 the resemblance. She thought of the deep and 
 earnest love, which had seemed to her like folly 
 amid more worldly scenes ; she thought of their 
 wanderings by twilight, with the rosy sunset dying 
 away amid the thick-leaved pines: — she turned, 
 and saw Guido by her side. Admitted by the 
 influence of Bournonville into the royal gardens, 
 he had wandered round, and by chance followed 
 the very path which Marie had taken. 
 
 " My beloved Marie!" exclaimed her unsus- 
 pecting lover, " this is happiness! Ah! if you
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 143 
 
 knew how chilled, how constrained, I have felt by 
 the forms and the crowds by which we have been 
 surrounded — how I have pined for a moment to 
 tell you how dearly during absence I have che- 
 rished your image — how beautiful you seemed 
 when I saw you again! — how beautiful you are, 
 even in this strange and unfamiliar dress," added 
 he, following the direction of her eyes towards the 
 fountain. 
 
 She allowed him to retain the hand which he 
 had taken — it was but for an instant. The mo- 
 mentary softening of her heart was gone, and she 
 felt as if she could reason him out of love, even as 
 she had reasoned herself. She was strong in what 
 would be the universal opinion; it would be an 
 act of insanity to allow a girlish preference to 
 interfere with her present brilliant hopes — it would 
 be folly, nay, presumption, on his part, to talk 
 more of love ; still, she would act kindly by him 
 — she would impress upon him the impossibility 
 of constancy, and make the necessity of change 
 obvious to his own conviction. 
 
 At first her words were hurried and confused ; 
 and the young Italian, though startled from his 
 fond security, might still ask, had he, could he, 
 have heard aright? But as Marie spoke, her 
 voice grew firm, her anticipations gave strength to
 
 144 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 her resolves, and she really avoided all difficulty 
 by speaking the truth. 
 
 " I do not," continued she, " talk about my 
 uncle's displeasure, or the obstacles which it would 
 entail — I talk to you of myself. I own I am 
 changed — I cannot help it ; nature never intended 
 me for a heroine of a romance. I despise poverty 
 — I dislike trouble — I enjoy the luxury which 
 surrounds me — 1 delight in the homage — and I 
 look to my future husband for more settled wealth 
 and more assured rank. Of all that I most prize, 
 you can offer me nothing ; and I confess love to be 
 insufficient for my happiness. You and Francesca 
 will ever be to me my dear and my early friends. 
 You " 
 
 " Say no more, as a last grace ! " interrupted 
 Guido, passionately — " I ask it at your hands. I 
 see it — I feel it all, — your place, and my own 
 folly. May the holy Madonna keep you from — 
 from ever suspecting the pain of knowing that in 
 one little moment life can lose every hope." 
 
 He sprung so rapidly down the opposite path, 
 that Marie almost asked, had she really seen him ? 
 But she heard the quick steps passing along the 
 gravel -walk ; she listened to their echo with 
 anxiety, even tenderness ; all became silent, and 
 her heart filled with sorrow for the anguish she
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 145 
 
 had inflicted. She felt the value of entire affection 
 — the contrast forced itself, of love the deep and 
 true, compared with the falsehood and the selfish- 
 ness by which she was surrounded. A little while, 
 and the warm and kindly feelings of long ago 
 came back, and she sat down beside the fountain 
 and wept bitterly. 
 
 VOL. I. II
 
 146 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 I loved her ; for her sweet familiar face 
 Brought back my earlier self." 
 
 The great fatigue of the day being too much for 
 the delicate state of Madame de Mercosur's health, 
 she soon retired; and early in the evening she 
 and Francesca found themselves, for the first 
 time, tete-a-ttte, and without fear of interrup- 
 tion. 
 
 The evening was chilly ; some fresh wood was 
 heaped on the hearth; they drew the fauteuils 
 closer to the fire and to each other ; and felt as 
 if old times and sentiments were come again. 
 Past events and past feelings soon led to present 
 recollections ; but, to Francesca's surprise, the 
 Duchesse did not seem to consider their posi- 
 tion so perfect in felicity as it appeared to her 
 guest. 
 
 " What," exclaimed her youthful friend, "have
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 147 
 
 you to desire ? You have rank, wealth, favour, 
 health, and a husband who loves you, and whom 
 you love, and of whom you may well be proud. 
 I like the Due de Mereoeur so much ; and I should 
 have been sorry not to have liked him, Hen- 
 riette : he is so handsome, so kind, and so silent." 
 
 Madame de Mereoeur laughed at silence being 
 mentioned as a merit. 
 
 " You may laugh/' rejoined Francesca ; " but 
 you cannot imagine how bewildered I feel by the 
 infinite variety of discourse which is here ap- 
 parently a daily habit. I am talked out of my 
 wits ; I have scarcely recovered the surprise of the 
 ingenious question, before I meet another surprise 
 in the still more ingenious answer. I remember, 
 in the dear old pallazzo, and the still dearer pine- 
 woods around, that we have conversed away hours ; 
 but, then, think how interesting were the subjects 
 — ourselves. We had the whole future before 
 us; but here it is yesterday, whose sayings and 
 doings are so repeated, as if every thing were done 
 that afterwards it might be told." 
 
 " The truth is, ma mignonne" replied her com- 
 panion, " we have nothing else to do — talking is 
 the business of the idle. We do not talk out of 
 the careless gaiety of the heart, which indulges 
 its hopes, or expresses its feelings — we talk for
 
 148 FRANCE8CA CARRARA. 
 
 amusement; we are not interested in the doings 
 of others, but we are entertained — always sup- 
 posing, as the narrator may very well contrive, 
 there is something a little absurd in them. We 
 live together in society — strangers, rivals, and 
 enemies, hiding the envy and hate, which it would 
 be impolitic to exhibit. We care nothing for each 
 other ; society could not exist a day now, did the 
 dislike or the indifference rise to the surface. 
 Talking is an ingenious contrivance for hiding all 
 this. An agreeable compliment conceals careless- 
 ness ; a pointed phrase gives vent to many a sup- 
 pressed emotion ; and we can veil our perfect dis- 
 regard to what people feel, by a most studied 
 attention to what they say. I can assure you, 
 talking is more than an amusement — it is a ne- 
 cessity." 
 
 " Well, I shall do my best to learn what seems 
 to me a profound science ; but at present, in my 
 astonishment at many of the questions put to 
 me, I quite forget that it is necessary for me to 
 answer." 
 
 " My dearest Francesca, it is very indiscreet 
 ever to be astonished ; and an answer is a sort of 
 conversational coin, which you should always have 
 in readiness." 
 
 " Well, Henriette, what answer have you to
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 149 
 
 my question — what have you to desire more than 
 you at present possess 1 " 
 
 " Security. Here we are strangers, dependents 
 on that vainest of human reliances, court favour. 
 I have seen my uncle forced into exile by an 
 imperious and ambitious faction ; — true, I, per- 
 haps, should not complain ; for it proved, if I 
 had needed proof, the disinterestedness of Mer- 
 coeur's attachment. He followed me into banish- 
 ment, and married me when the very name of 
 Mazarin was the signal for popular outcry and 
 contumely." 
 
 " But, now that the Cardinal's power is more 
 firmly fixed than ev§r, and yourself so happy in 
 your husband and your home — " 
 
 " It is for others that I fear — for my sisters, | 
 indulging the most golden hopes, depending on 
 so many chances, and which must make any 
 destiny less brilliant than what they now antici- 
 pate, and of which they once so little dreamed, 
 a disappointment hard to be borne." 
 
 " Yet what is not within your reasonable ex- 
 pectations? I saw from the gallery the caresses 
 which the Queen so publicly lavished upon you 
 all ; and, then, the flattering distinction of the king 
 appearing in Marie's colours !" 
 
 " Ah ! it is on Marie's account that I am most
 
 150 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 anxious ; I know how vain is the delusion she is 
 now cherishing." 
 
 " Yet if Louis did love her — V 
 
 " Louis," interrupted theDuchesse, " love her ! 
 — it is not in him to love aught but himself. His 
 mother is well aware that she may trust him, or 
 Marie Mancini would have been, ere this, in a 
 convent. The Queen encourages his intimacy with 
 us — rejoices even at his preference; for we amuse 
 him, and are less dangerous than any that might 
 carry him away from her immediate care. But 
 she relies, and safely, upon the selfishness of 
 Louis. Let Marie cause him trouble, annoyance, 
 or interfere with the slightest of his interests, and 
 her hope — her happiness — would be sacrificed as 
 ^things of course. It would never even enter his 
 mind that they could be consulted." 
 
 u But Marie — so shrewd, so penetrating; is 
 it possible that she does not perceive this ? " 
 
 " You have not lived long enough among us 
 to know the intoxication of vanity. Marie has 
 allowed herself to dwell on one brilliant object till 
 her eyesight is dazzled." 
 
 " But cannot you advise — cannot you warn 
 her?" 
 
 " Alas, Francesca ! we are not now in the 
 pine groves, where we once talked so freely. There
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 151 
 
 is here something in the very air we breathe which 
 precludes confidence. We are sisters no longer ; 
 we fancy — ah, how falsely! — that our interests 
 are opposed, and that a favour extended to one is 
 at the expense of the other. Moreover, you must 
 remember, even as children, Marie was ever more 
 resolute than myself; and now, how little would 
 she heed remonstrance of mine!" 
 
 " Ah!" replied Francesca, after a moment's 
 silence, somewhat sad in both, " the air of this 
 great city does cause change ; a thousand illusions 
 seem to have passed away even from me. I have, 
 I know not why, a vague fear of the future — the 
 future, from which I once hoped so much." 
 
 " It must be my care. For the present you 
 remain with me, — you will excite less envy than 
 if placed immediately about the queen, as was at 
 first my wish, and I think you will be happier ; 
 I feel that I am so myself. You know not, dear 
 friend, how much of youth and of Italy you bring 
 with you." 
 
 How could Francesca answer, but by affec- 
 tionate thanks? 
 
 " One thing more," added the Duchesse : " I 
 have not forgotten Guido ; I have thought — " and 
 here she hesitated — " that all young men like 
 change. The Cardinal will visit Bournonville
 
 152 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 to-morrow, to see his Majesty's picture. Guido 
 will there be presented to him, and receive his 
 commands for Modena ; he is to be the bearer of 
 letters to our cousin. His absence will be tem- 
 porary ; so you need not weep at parting with 
 your brother." 
 
 Francesca deeply felt the kindness which so 
 unobtrusively removed Guido, for the present, 
 from the frequent meeting with Mademoiselle 
 Mancini. He was thus spared that, perhaps, worst 
 pang of unrequited affection — that of perpetually 
 coming in contact with its object — caressed, flat- 
 tered, beloved, brilliant, while you are forgotten, 
 though in sight. 
 
 " You know, Francesca," continued her friend, 
 " that you must accustom yourselves to separa- 
 tion, for Paris is nearer England than Rome." 
 
 " I have seen Mr. Evelyn since my arrival," 
 replied Francesca. 
 
 " That is a disappointment to me ! I had 
 arranged so many charming adventures, in which 
 I was to enact the part of the good fairy — set- 
 tling every thing for the happiness of my two 
 lovers. Very provoking of Destiny to have taken 
 the affair into her own hands, without my inter- 
 ference. But you look grave ! A lover's quarrel, 
 I hope ; I shall be delighted to reconcile you."
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 153 
 
 " Alas, Henriette ! how little are our feelings 
 in our control ! I shame to tell you how much 
 mine are altered. I endeavour to persuade my- 
 self that it is Evelyn who is changed ; but I am 
 forced to confess that the fault is my own." 
 
 " Well, after this let no one pretend to be sure 
 they know the heart of another ! Why, I would 
 have risked my life on your constancy. You were 
 always so earnest, so grave, so much to be relied 
 upon! I should have thought you would have 
 needed another Petrarch to celebrate your ro- 
 mantic devotion. However, it leaves the field 
 open to me; I shall soon find you another lover 
 in Paris." 
 
 " I feel that I am incapable of love — nothing can 
 bring back the illusion of my earlier and happier 
 belief. But, at least, I hold my faith to Mr. Evelyn 
 as sacred as if he still were, what I once deemed 
 he was, the only hope and object of my ex- 
 istence." 
 
 " We shall see," said the Duchesse, laughing ; 
 " but I am now too tired to enact the part of presi- 
 dent in the parliament of love, — we must leave 
 this knotty point for discussion some other night. 
 I own I have my doubts about constancy surviving 
 love ; but though your infidelity makes me not 
 quite certain about any thing, yet of one fact I 
 h2
 
 154 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 feel tolerably convinced, which is, that in all 
 places, and under all circumstances, I shall love 
 you very dearly, and be as anxious for your hap- 
 piness as I am at this moment." 
 
 Francesca embraced her friend tenderly, and 
 they parted for the night.
 
 155 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 It is a dreadful question, when we love, 
 To ask, is love returned 1 " 
 
 The Hunchback. 
 
 It had been arranged that Francesca was to join 
 Guido at Bournonville's, where he still resided, 
 previous to the visit of the Cardinal and Madame 
 de Mercoeur. On her arrival, she was surprised 
 to hear that he had not yet arisen ; but on enter- 
 ing his room, she saw at once that he had not been 
 in bed. The apartment looked into the garden, 
 and a large old tree almost darkened the window 
 with the heavy foliage of one huge bough; the 
 casement was open, and there Guido was leaning, 
 his face bowed upon his arm, and so engrossed 
 in his own thoughts, that he did not hear Fran- 
 cesca enter. Softly closing the door, she ap- 
 proached him with a light step, which, however, 
 failed to rouse his attention. 
 
 " Dearest Guido," exclaimed she ; but his face
 
 156 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 still remained hidden. With gentle force she passed 
 her arm round his neck : " My own brother, are 
 you ill? — you frighten me!" 
 
 Half unconsciously, he raised his head ; and 
 his cousin was startled to observe his extreme 
 paleness, and the unnatural brightness of his eyes. 
 She was herself shivering with the chill of the 
 open lattice; but his hand, as she took it, was 
 burning. Making a strong effort to appear un- 
 concerned, Guido muttered something about the 
 over-fatigue of the previous day. 
 
 " Now shame, dearest Guido! what can be the 
 cause of untruth to me ? when have we kept a 
 thought from each other?" 
 
 Still he remained silent and confused; when 
 Francesca, placing herself beside him on the win- 
 dow-seat, said, in tones of the most tender affection, 
 i( Guido, we are here alone, in a strange place, — 
 orphans, with scarce a friend save each other; 
 where may we place confidence but in ourselves? 
 If we bar out love from our own hearts, where 
 shall we ever find it again? Speak to me — to 
 your own Francesca. What sorrow can you have 
 that will not be a sorrow to me also ?" 
 
 Hesitatingly and reluctant at first, but warmed 
 into passionate expression as he proceeded, Guido 
 at length detailed his interview with Mademoiselle
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 157 
 
 Mancini, interrupted but by Francesca's soothing 
 ejaculations of pity and of anger ; for at first she 
 felt too much to say half the rational things she 
 had intended. 
 
 " But, dearest Guido," at length she ventured 
 to whisper, " you seem to me to be scarcely aware 
 of the great change which has taken place in the 
 situation of our friends. Adopted children of him 
 who is almost a king in this great country, to 
 what honours may they not aspire? — while we — " 
 "Ah, Francesca!" he exclaimed, " do you 
 think I do not see my folly — my weak, miserable, 
 extravagant folly, in believing that the deep devo- 
 tion of one loving heart could reckon for aught in 
 this gay chaos l You think that only one dream 
 has vanished — you know not how many sprang 
 out of that one. Marie has ever been the aim of 
 all my hope, the reward of all my ambition. I 
 imagined myself capable of so much, and for her 
 sake ! I awaken from the delusion, and ask, Where 
 is there any thing like truth in all the visions 
 which have been to me the prophecies of future 
 life ? Deceived in one, shews me how deceived I 
 am in all. Poor, friendless, solitary, — what have 
 I to live for?" 
 
 " Friendless and solitary!" replied Francesca, 
 reproachfully ; " at this moment, my brother, I
 
 158 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 could lay down my life to spare the pain you are 
 suffering." 
 
 " My own sweetest sister!" exclaimed he, draw- 
 ing her tenderly towards him. 
 
 g " Marie was never worthy of you. Vain, she 
 sought but for flattery, where you gave affec- 
 tion ; selfish, she thought only of her own passing 
 amusement, heedless of the pain which she in- 
 flicted on you. In her childish pleasures, herself 
 was ever the first object ; and now, ambitious and 
 calculating, she grasps at more glittering toys, to 
 gratify the same vanity in a higher form, and with 
 interest instead of amusement for her object. She 
 is incapable of caring for any one but herself." 
 
 " Francesca, you are too severe. She did 
 love me once ; but absence, and, as you must own 
 yourself, the temptations by which she is sur- 
 rounded — " 
 
 Francesca was about to contradict him — the 
 next moment she checked the impulse ; if it was 
 any consolation, why not let him think that he 
 was once beloved ? "It seems to me, dear Guido, 
 that youth has passed away from us both," — this 
 was the philosophy of eighteen — "for, young as we 
 are, how different every thing appears to what 
 it did ! But a few months since, how we looked 
 forward to our arrival in Paris ! Now it would be
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 159 
 
 our greatest happiness to leave it. But, alas J could 
 we bear returning to our former home with such 
 altered hearts 1 " 
 
 " Yet, why should you feel thus? — you have 
 seen Evelyn, and he is unchanged." 
 
 " In words, but not in himself. Holy saints! 
 to think that I should feel his absence a relief, and 
 look forward to his return with dread !" 
 
 " I must leave France," said Guido, abruptly; 
 his own feelings yet too fresh to admit of sympathy 
 with those of his cousin's, which, in his heart, he 
 thought somewhat fanciful ; " what do I want 
 with the Cardinal's patronage? — the world is 
 before me, and Mademoiselle Mancini shall not 
 see one suing for her favour who once hoped for 
 her love." 
 
 " Madame de Mercceur," replied Francesca, 
 " was telling me last night, that, aware of her 
 uncle needing some one in whom he could place 
 confidence, as the bearer of letters to the Duchesse 
 of Modena, she had mentioned you, and that his 
 Eminence was pleased to decide upon employing 
 you." 
 
 " And so," returned Guido, colouring with 
 mortification, " it was soon decided that I was to 
 be sent out of the way?" 
 
 " If there was any intention in Madame de
 
 160 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 Mercceur's plan, it was with the view of sparing, 
 not hurting, your feelings," said Francesca, sooth- 
 ingly. 
 
 " Henriette, — Madame de Mercoeur," con- 
 tinued he, correcting himself, " was always good 
 and kind." 
 
 " And so she is still ; the same Henriette who 
 never came without some choice leaf or flower for 
 my poor grandfather. I remain with her till your 
 return, and it will then be time enough to decide 
 on our future plans. But the Cardinal will soon 
 be here ; so I shall go, and lend an attentive ear to 
 Mons. Bournonville's raptures about le superbe 
 jeune roi, &c, while you attend to your toilette. 
 Look here ! " said she, passing her fingers through 
 the tangled masses of his long dark hair, and 
 parting it on his forehead : — she turned deadly pale 
 — for there was blood upon her hands ! 
 
 " It is nothing," exclaimed Guido, with a faint 
 smile. 
 
 Francesca kissed him in silence, and left the 
 room ; but it was some time before she had reso- 
 lution to join Bournonville. 
 
 " Mon Dieu ! Mademoiselle," exclaimed the 
 fluttered artist; " his Eminence the Cardinal — 
 and he may be here in five minutes ! For the love 
 of the saints, help me to place his portrait on the
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 161 
 
 easel, — there, there," — giving it a touch or two 
 — " I am working at — " 
 
 " But," said Francesca, "it is the picture of 
 the King which he comes to see." 
 
 " Good, good ; I can reach that down when 
 he comes. Madelon, hum some sandal-wood on 
 the stairs ; and, Madelon, when I look at the 
 picture of Tragedy, with the dagger and cup, 
 go you, without my telling, into the cellar — 
 here is the key — and bring up a bottle of Bur- 
 gundy : if his Excellency is in a good humour, I 
 may venture to offer it him ; and, Madelon, your 
 best confitures for Madame de Mercoeur. Ah, 
 Mademoiselle, you are too good," for Francesca 
 had knelt down to assist in unfastening the cords 
 of a package, which Correggio, in his haste, 
 was rather tightening than loosening. A small 
 but exquisite Madonna was produced, — " Leave 
 the cords about that ; his Eminence may observe 
 it is only opened in honour of his arrival." 
 
 As Guido entered, a carriage was heard slowly 
 rolling into the court -yard. Bournonville flew 
 down to receive his expected visitors, and, almost 
 involuntarily, the cousins drew closer together. 
 Guido grew paler — he only recollected that the 
 Cardinal was the uncle of Marie ; while Francesca
 
 162 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 trembled and coloured with anxiety, that he should 
 make a favourable impression. 
 
 The door flew open, and Bournonville first ap- 
 peared, walking backwards, swinging to and fro the 
 cassolette containing the perfumed wood, and fol- 
 lowed by the Cardinal, leaning on his niece's arm. 
 
 Madame de Mercosur advanced, and, extending 
 both hands to Guido, addressed him with the 
 utmost kindness. " I shall soon," said she, smil- 
 ing, " be ashamed to confess what very old friends 
 we are ; " then, leading the strangers to the Car- 
 dinal, presented them to him, adding, " their 
 name will be familiar to you, for the fresco in 
 your oratory once belonged to the Carraras." 
 
 Each dropped on a knee before him, while 
 Mazarin looked at them for a moment in silence, 
 evidently struck by their great and peculiar 
 beauty. " You might know them for Romans," 
 he observed, " all the world over; but rise, my 
 children, and the blessing of the saints be upon 
 you !" His eye now rested, as the painter intended 
 it should, on his own likeness : " Holy Madonna ! 
 but, Monsieur Bournonville, I owe you some gra- 
 titude ; pray how many years have you taken off?" 
 
 Before Bournonville could give utterance to 
 the flattering assurances that rose in their tens
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 163 
 
 of thousands in his mind, the Cardinal's attention 
 was fixed on the Madonna, — seemingly carelessly, 
 but, in reality, most skilfully displayed. 
 
 " Raphael ! by all that is beautiful ! " ex- 
 claimed Mazarin, examining the picture with 
 much attention. " How long has it been in your 
 possession 1 " 
 
 " Just arrived, — a little speculation of mine, 
 and only hastily opened, from a desire to have its 
 merit appreciated by so admirable a judgment as 
 that of your Excellency." 
 
 " What do you think of it?" asked the Car- 
 dinal, turning to Guido, who gave a warm and, 
 gradually, an enthusiastic opinion of its beauties. 
 
 The conversation now turned entirely on works 
 of art, and the Cardinal evidently took much in- 
 terest in the fervour with which Guido dwelt on 
 the subject. The love of art, which was with 
 Mazarin a passion, seems to have been the only 
 sign in him of that poetry which is part of the 
 Italian character ; but there is no mind, however 
 worldly, without some ideal enjoyment ; and his 
 was in his superb collection of paintings. He 
 pointed out the " glorious spoil which hung his 
 storied walls" to a friend on his death-bed, and 
 said, " Is it not hard to leave all these behind?" 
 The enthusiasm and freshness of Guido, too, at-
 
 164 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 tracted him. There is an inexpressible charm to 
 politic and care-worn age in the hopes which can 
 never more be its own, and the illusions which 
 can never again lend a grace to the beaten path 
 of existence. It is memory that makes the old 
 indulgent to the young. The Cardinal, moreover, 
 deemed Guido's admiration and love the more 
 reasonable, as they were lavished on his own fa- 
 vourite object. 
 
 Bournonville was able to look at Tragedy — 
 her cup and dagger — with perfect complacency ; 
 the Burgundy was tasted ; and, at length, Ma- 
 zarin departed, leaving them all convinced that he 
 was a very great man, who deservedly filled the 
 high station of France's prime minister. Yet, 
 notwithstanding his present condescension, Ma- 
 zarin was not popular, neither had he popular 
 manners — they were not what he affected ; and 
 he was right. It is the man who is feared — not 
 the man who is loved — that succeeds in the world. 
 Refuse a favour, and all your gracious smiles, your 
 kind words, aye, and even your really kind feel- 
 ings, are utterly forgotten. But be necessary ; let 
 men have aught to hope from you; forward in 
 any way their interests — and it matters not how 
 you do it ; be harsh, abrupt, insolent, and it will 
 only be " your way." People would, to be sure,
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 165 
 
 rather obtain their object by trampling upon you ; 
 but, sooner than not obtain it, they will let you 
 trample upon them. Civility is not only trouble- 
 some, but it is waste. To vary the old simile, 
 people in general are like sweet herbs — they 
 require crushing, not for their sakes, but for your 
 own.
 
 166 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 " How does the heart deceive itself, and feed upon a future 
 which will never be !" 
 
 All arrangements for the morrow's departure were 
 soon completed. The day passed away in that 
 hurry which makes it seem so short, and in the 
 many little cares, so few of which ever answer their 
 purpose, and which yet appear so indispensable to 
 the feminine affection from which they generally 
 emanate. Night came at last, and Bournonville, 
 after much good advice, in which the gouvernante 
 cordially joined — touching the necessity of early 
 going to bed where there was a necessity for early 
 rising — and after many good wishes, left the cousins 
 to themselves. To those who had never before 
 parted for even a day, there was something almost 
 terrible in separation. Francesca had rejoiced in 
 the thought of Guido's absence ; but it now rose 
 before her, with all its possible perils and evils.
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 167 
 
 Absence, like every other pang, weakens by repe- 
 tition ; the friend who has once returned in safety 
 may return so again — we soon draw precedents 
 from the past. She had to say farewell for the 
 first time, and whatever we do not know, we always 
 exaggerate. They sat together, with clasped hands, 
 till the silence was suddenly broken by Guido, 
 who had been intently watching a small bright 
 flame, which, after having struggled for some 
 time with the smoke around, sunk into darkness. 
 
 " Francesca," exclaimed he, " that is my 
 emblem ! Did you mark that little blaze, how it 
 has striven, and how it has perished ? It had in 
 it the germ of the glorious and the lovely, but 
 it had no open space wherein to expand ; the heavy 
 vapour oppressed it — other and brighter flames 
 obscured its weakness — and now it is gone quite 
 out. I see our resemblance. I, too, have in me a 
 gift of power and of lovelin^ ; but it is power that 
 will be subdued, and loveliness that will die un- 
 developed. I feel around me the iron weight of 
 circumstance — I am oppressed by the heavy vapour 
 of hopelessness — and lo! I go, and my place will 
 be no more seen." 
 
 " But that I have no heart for chiding to- 
 night," replied Francesca, " dear Guido, I should 
 blame this weakness, which creates the mis-
 
 168 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 fortune it deplores. It is the adverse circum- 
 stance that gives the triumph. Were I a man, 
 I should delight in difficulties — I should desire 
 toil, exertion, and obstacles. Let the world be 
 before me, and I would make my way in it. I 
 cannot understand sinking under any shape that 
 adversity could take ; I should enjoy the struggle, 
 in my strong belief of the success." 
 
 " I cannot force myself into hoping," answered 
 Guido, in the same low and melancholy tone. 
 " Even in my happiest moments, while the grass 
 was crowded with flowers beneath me — the sweet 
 monotony of the running water in mine ear, only 
 broken by the cheerful chant of the grasshopper 
 — the boughs of the chestnut, filled with sun- 
 shine, dazzling my eyes, till the golden air seemed 
 thronged with lovely shapes, — even then came 
 pale and mournful shadows, whose white faces 
 looked upon me pity^ly. Even then, darkness, 
 but a speck at first, would spread and spread till it 
 overhung the atmosphere ; and I would lie doubt- 
 ing, and mournful, and encompassed by night." 
 
 " And what was this, my beloved brother, but 
 a vain yielding to unbridled imagination, which, 
 like a spring confined to one spot, collects its 
 pure clear waters, and is at once a beauty and a 
 blessing ; but which, allowed to spread abroad in
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 169 
 
 every direction, oozes through the marshy earth, 
 becomes stagnant, and is habited by the loathsome 
 reptile. That which would have been a green 
 haunt, with its fair fountain, is a dreary and 
 useless quagmire. Is it not thus with the mind, 
 Guido?" 
 
 He made no reply ; and Francesca was too 
 anxious for his taking some rest previous to his 
 journey, to pursue their discourse. The next 
 morning she rose early ; but as she bent over 
 Guido's pillow to awaken him, she started to 
 observe how oppressed was his breathing, and how 
 feverish his slumber. " It is evidently the rest 
 of complete exhaustion — sleep won by hours of 
 weary restlessness." She had not the heart to rouse 
 him, and seated herself watchfully beside, while 
 the fear of his being ill when far away made her 
 heart sink with affectionate apprehension. " Yet 
 it is best he should go," — and, for the first time, 
 the sense of her own utter loneliness, when he 
 should be gone, rose sadly before her. 
 
 " Great God !" exclaimed she, stepping softly 
 to, the window, which commanded the view of 
 many streets, " to think, amid this multitude of 
 human beings, we have neither kindred nor friends 
 — not one to care for our welfare, not one to re- 
 joice in our joy, not one to sorrow in our sorrow." 
 
 vol. i. I
 
 170 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 As she spoke, her heart reproached her with 
 Henriette's kindness — still, it was kindness only ; 
 how many hopes, fears, and cares, would she have, 
 in which Madame de Mercceur could have no 
 share ! " Guido has made me fanciful. I am un- 
 thankful for the good which has really fallen to our 
 share. Henriette is very, very kind — how glad I 
 ought to be of such powerful protection ! And my 
 brother — this journey will do him good ; the sight 
 of our own dear Italy will be inspiration to him — 
 again he will feel the excitement of praise, and he 
 will return eager and hopeful." Yet, as she kissed 
 his brow to waken him, she left her tears upon 
 his cheek. 
 
 The bustle of a departure suspends every thing 
 but itself; and it was not till Guido rode out of 
 the court-yard, that Francesca remembered, or 
 fancied she remembered, a thousand things that 
 yet remained to say. Fortunately for her, Bour- 
 nonville was too much occupied to administer more 
 than a word of consolation in passing; and she 
 remained in the window-seat, watching the gate- 
 way through which he rode, as if she every mo- 
 ment expected him to return. 
 
 Suddenly she started from her seat, the bell 
 rung, and a horseman entered ; the dark-gray 
 colour of the horse made her heart beat ; but in an
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 171 
 
 instant she saw that the rider was too tall to be 
 Guido. He dismounted, and dropped the cloak 
 which had hitherto concealed his face, and shewed 
 the countenance of Evelyn. 
 
 Francesca sunk back. " And do I feel no 
 happier that he is returned V But it was in vain 
 to persuade herself that she was glad. Her hand 
 was extended readily to him when he entered, but 
 it was cold and trembling ; however, he seemed 
 perfectly satisfied, and was eloquent in his praises 
 of her improved beauty in the French costume. 
 
 " I find here all loyalty and festivity. What a 
 charming example for England to follow!" 
 
 " The scene yesterday was splendid." 
 
 " Did you venture out in the crowd to see it?" 
 asked the visitor. 
 
 " I was not so bold ; but, thanks to the Du- 
 chesse de Mercosur's kindness, witnessed the whole 
 from the gallery of the palace." 
 
 " You have, then, seen your old friends the 
 Mancinis?" 
 
 " I am residing with Madame de Mercosur; 
 and only remained here last night, that I might 
 see Guido set off. He is charged with a com- 
 mission of the Cardinal's in Modena." 
 
 " Residing with Madame df Mercosur ! you 
 could not be more agreeably placed, " replied
 
 172 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 Evelyn ; yet the expression of his face "belied his 
 words. Meeting Francesca's eyes, he added, " for 
 your own sake — for mine, I must regret aught 
 that places ceremony or distance between us." 
 
 She was saved the trouble of a reply, by the 
 announcement of Madame de Mercceur's coach, 
 sent to fetch her ; and as Evelyn handed her in, 
 he said, " I shall wait upon you this evening. 
 Mazarin's fair nieces hold almost a court, and I 
 will find some one to present me, for your sweet 
 sake." 
 
 Francesca could only say something indistinctly 
 about pleasure, &c. ; and the ponderous machine 
 rolled off at a rate little calculated to disturb any 
 meditation in which she might please to indulge. 
 
 Evelyn's train of thought was far the most 
 agreeable of the two. " If I had for a moment," 
 thought he, " renounced my old belief in luck, 
 I should resume its worship with all possible 
 speed. Mark now what Fortune has done for me ; 
 well does she deserve my entire trust. Meeting 
 the pretty Italian was enough in itself; and now 
 she promises to be as serviceable as she is charm- 
 ing. Without money, our enterprise must fall to 
 the ground. All hope of obtaining it from the 
 Pope through DtRetz is at end — that negotiation 
 has been most judiciously kept out of sight. Well,
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 173 
 
 we must turn to Mazarin. I hear much of the 
 influence his nieces possess ; let me try what it 
 can do for us. I must not expect a great deal 
 from Francesca : shy, proud, and cold, her very 
 beautiful face will never be of half the use it 
 ought to be. Why, in her place, I should dispute 
 the heart of the young King with the Mancini. By 
 the by, a little flattery will not be ill bestowed in 
 that quarter, if she possess the power with Louis 
 which is usually ascribed to her. Puppet though 
 he be, in the hands of his mamma and her minister, 
 his good pleasure would go for something. Ay, 
 give us but a small present supply, and a hope of 
 future assistance — which, if we succeeded, it would 
 be policy to accord — and I wager my head, that 
 the fire we should Mndle in the west of England 
 would soon spread over the whole island." 
 
 The great popularity of the Stuarts — cer- 
 tainly more allied to personal causes than we can 
 at present calculate — is a curious fact. It was not 
 one of those feelings drawn from hoar antiquity, 
 when habit has become religion. No — their 
 ascension to the throne was of recent occurrence. 
 Neither were they grafted into the heart by that 
 enthusiasm which, more than all others, dazzles 
 and delights, viz. military renown. No victories, 
 no conquests, excited the imagination, and con-
 
 174 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 founded their's and the glory of England together. 
 Their reigns had been most pacific, and their few- 
 warlike attempts unsuccessful ; and yet what de- 
 votion and attachment they inspired ! — fortune, 
 liberty, and life, were yielded, and joyfully, in 
 their cause. Wrongs were forgiven ; violated 
 privileges and outraged laws forgotten ; and no- 
 thing but the still mightier spirit of fanaticism 
 could have been opposed with any success to the 
 spirit of loyalty. It was Charles's bigotry that 
 cost him his crown. If he had given up the 
 bishops, uncurled his hair, and spoken through 
 his nose, he might have been an absolute monarch 
 in all but name. As it was, he contrived to 
 die a martyr, and to be mourned with a degree 
 of personal affection whick one, now-a-days, 
 scarcely expects from the nearest and dearest 
 friends. 
 
 Evelyn was but one of many. Reckless, lov- 
 ing pleasure and ease ; with much of worldly 
 wealth and aggrandisement to tempt him on the 
 other side of the question ; yet was he heart and 
 soul devoted to the Stuarts — prepared to sacrifice 
 his own enjoyment, risk his life ; in short, to be 
 all but actually disinterested ; and, indeed, his 
 only drawback to that, was his cordial hatred to 
 the Roundheads.
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 175 
 
 It may easily be supposed, with these motives, 
 that he was *an early visitor that evening at Ma- 
 dame de Mercosur's, where his reception was most 
 gracious. For a brief while he forgot all his 
 intended flatteries of the Mancinis, in his admira- 
 tion of Francesca's beauty. 
 
 The appearance of your lover — known to be 
 such — among your intimate friends, is embarrass- 
 ing enough to any girl, who anticipates their re- 
 marks, and foresees their railleries. To Francesca, 
 little accustomed to strangers, and, moreover, em- 
 barrassed and anxious in herself, it was enough to 
 give the brilliant colour that reddened her cheek, 
 and added to the light of her large black eyes — 
 the more striking, from the white powdered hair ; 
 whereas, in general, they were shaded by the 
 dark tresses now so differently adorned. She was, 
 perhaps, more strictly beautiful, with her statue- 
 like head in its own native darkness ; but use is 
 every thing, and fashion still more. Besides, Evelyn 
 was accustomed to associate an idea of distinction 
 with a certain mode of dress. Francesca's peculiar 
 and high-bred air — so easy to feel, so difficult to 
 define — flattered his prejudice for rank, at that 
 time so broadly marked. 
 
 But their conversation was soon interrupted ; 
 for Mademoiselle Mancini, who had her own
 
 176 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 motives for the attention, came across the room 
 exclaiming, " Since you do not remember 
 me—" 
 
 " Nay," answered Evelyn, " it is I who wait 
 upon your memory." 
 
 " Ah, I thought you were going to make the 
 usual remark, that really I am so improved since 
 I left Italy—" 
 
 " Pardon me," interrupted Evelyn ; " this 
 usual remark is not mine. I own I can see no 
 improvement — perhaps it was impossible." 
 
 " Seriously" — this was said with a very gra- 
 cious smile — "I am truly glad to see you ; 
 it is something not to have lost your head in 
 England. But, now, do tell us all your ad- 
 ventures; and, remember, we expect you to be 
 very amusing." 
 
 This " we " might have been rendered " I ;" for 
 Marie soon contrived to engross the young cavalier's 
 attention. The truth was, that Louis's attraction 
 towards her had proceeded far enough for jealousy ; 
 he had more than once questioned her with evi- 
 dent pique about the attentions she received from 
 many of the aspirants either to her or to her 
 uncle's favour. She deemed it injudicious to 
 encourage any ; and yet the time often hung hea- 
 vily on her hands. Now, Evelyn was a perfectly
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 177 
 
 safe person, and yet both handsome and entertain- 
 ing, — moreover, evidently well inclined to offer 
 that incense in which she delighted. She might 
 amuse herself with him, and yet have ready the 
 unobjectionable answer of, " An old friend, known 
 ages ago in Italy — when he was, as he is now, a 
 very devoted slave of my pretty friend the Signora 
 Carrara." This reply effecting a double purpose ; 
 for Marie had not been too well pleased the other 
 evening with Louis's glance of admiration at this 
 said pretty friend. It was as well to let him know 
 that the ground was pre-occupied ; and the King 
 was quite young enough to be deterred by a 
 rival. 
 
 The conversation on both sides .proceeded with 
 so much animation, that neither had a word for 
 Francesca. She sat silent and lonely; left to ru- 
 minate at her leisure on the solitude of society. 
 She heard around her gay converse, in which she 
 had no share ; and laughter, in which she was 
 little tempted to join. She observed every face, 
 and, still more minutely, every dress in the room ; 
 and, despite what philosophers say of its charm, 
 found the task of observation very tiresome — she 
 would have preferred a little participation. She 
 could just hear the voices of Marie and Evelyn, 
 without being able to distinguish what they said ; 
 i2
 
 178 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 but could perceive that they were amused, which 
 she was not. Now, one may be very well content 
 to renounce a lover ; but it is very disagreeable to 
 have him taken away.
 
 179 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 We must make 
 
 The heart a grave, and in it bury deep 
 
 Its young and beautiful feeUngs." 
 
 Barry Cornwall. 
 
 " I think our young Englishman so much im- 
 proved," said Madame de Mercceur, the next 
 morning ; " and as I take it for granted that you 
 have found out, by this time, that your inconstancy 
 was one of these mistakes which the heart will 
 sometimes make, I have invited him to Compeigne. 
 Now do allow that there is such a thing as friend- 
 ship in the world." 
 
 " I never denied it," said Francesca, who, how- 
 ever, wished that the friendship had shewn its 
 activity in any other shape. She could not deceive 
 herself ; neither pique nor flattery could bring 
 back her old feeling for Evelyn. Every hour some 
 sentiment of his, carelessly expressed, jarred upon 
 the inmost chords of her heart. All that she had 
 from infancy revered as high and generous, was
 
 180 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 to him matter of ridicule; he did not even pay 
 virtue the compliment of belief in its existence. 
 Then, his insincerity perpetually revolted her. The 
 present circle were always flattered — not so much 
 by any set phrase of compliment, but by his desire 
 to please ; while the absent, with him, realised 
 the old proverb, " Us avoient toujour s tort" Their 
 faults grew suddenly perceptible, and their absur- 
 dities an unfailing subject of mimicry. All these, 
 in his hands, became singularly amusing. Fran- 
 cesca, who had little knowledge, and no envy, 
 of the individuals so relentlessly caricatured, could 
 not help being entertained. While their more 
 intimate friends, whose competitors they were, who 
 had a thousand small jealousies to be gratified, 
 and divers little grudges almost unconsciously 
 treasured up, placed no bounds to their encourage- 
 ment. Still, it was a mirth that left, as sarcasm 
 always does, its doubt and its depression. Human 
 nature avenges itself by suspicion. First there comes 
 the internal and unerring whisper, As others have 
 been used, so shall we ; and, secondly, we are in 
 our hearts a little ashamed of our own enjoyment, 
 — we feel how contemptible it is, thus to revel in, 
 and exult over, our neighbour's faults, follies, and 
 misfortunes. Our very selfishness rebukes us. And 
 if the many are thus actuated, what must it have
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 181 
 
 been with Francesca, whose life had passed in a 
 small and affectionate circle, with all the fresh 
 warm feelings of youth about it? where there 
 might have been angry words to the face, but to 
 the face only. While from their lovely climate, 
 the poets native to their sweet south, the old ruins 
 hallowed with the memories of other days, the 
 lovely paintings, the still diviner statues, which 
 had been their constant companions — the character 
 had imperceptibly caught a tone of romance, cal- 
 culated long to resist the inroads of worldliness 
 and deceit. 
 
 On Marie Mancini the effect had been but 
 slight. There was an innate little selfishness in 
 her, which defied the finer influences. In Madame 
 de Mercceur they were neutralised by a total de- 
 ficiency of imagination. She was kind, good, and 
 even penetrating, when enlightened by the affec- 
 tions ; but head is required for the very highest 
 qualities of the heart, and those were beyond 
 Madame de Mercoeur. 
 
 In Guido the imagination had taken one pe- 
 culiar bent, and given one peculiar talent. In 
 Francesca it was more generally diffused ; it gave 
 something of poetry — her feeling of beauty was 
 more keen, her reverence for the good more ex- 
 alted, and her perception of the generous more
 
 182 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 strong, from native sympathy. Evelyn's faults 
 were, therefore, of a kind eminently calculated 
 to disgust one whose mind was so high-toned and 
 so ideal. Still, there were times when she bitterly 
 reproached herself, and thought, " I ought to have 
 seen these faults before, or I ought to be blind to 
 them now ; " and by a sort of compromise with 
 her conscience, resolved to make up in fidelity 
 what she wanted in tenderness. 
 
 Previous, however, to their following the court 
 to Compeigne, Monsieur de Mercosur having gone 
 to join the army, the Duchesse resolved on passing 
 a week at the Carmelite Convent. 
 
 The superstition which once taught us to be- 
 lieve that prayer and penance brought down 
 their blessing on some beloved one, was at least a 
 kindly one. The affections of earth grew at once 
 more tender and more spiritual, thus elevated and 
 purified by an intercourse with heaven. The court 
 was dissipated, worldly, false, — even as human 
 nature has ever been from the beginning, and will 
 be even unto the end ; but there, also, human 
 nature asserted its better part, and had its deeper 
 feelings and its higher hopes. Many a young and 
 lovely woman, whose feet knew but the pleasant 
 paths of prosperity, and whose ear was familiar but 
 with the voice of the flatterer, would voluntarily
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 183 
 
 offer up a portion of her time, as her holiest 
 sacrifice ; and on the straw pallet, and in the 
 serge robe, take a profound lesson of the vanities 
 which made up ordinary existence. To these 
 vanities, it is true, they returned ; but surely not 
 without a stronger humility, and some thoughts 
 which, even in the world, were God's own. 
 
 Madame de Mercoeur was at first unwilling 
 that Francesca should share her seclusion ; but her 
 young companion was too much in earnest to be 
 refused. Francesca was still depressed by her 
 recent parting with Guido, and clung to Henriette 
 as her only friend, — she would have felt so utterly 
 alone with Marie ; besides, she too wished to pray 
 for the absent and the dear. 
 
 It was a gloomy evening when they arrived. 
 A small, drizzling rain, chill and damp, seemed to 
 relax the fibres of the body, even as it did their 
 hair, which fell over the face heavy and uncom- 
 fortable. The wind howled with a sudden gust, as 
 the gates of the convent swung on their sullen 
 hinges, and sounded almost like a human voice in 
 its agony or in its despair, as it swept through the 
 vaulted corridors. 
 
 They were conducted first into the presence 
 of the abbess — a harsh, severe -looking woman, 
 stately and reserved — one who seemed never to
 
 184 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 have known youth or emotion ; — a breathing ma- 
 chine, pursuing, day after day, a monotonous 
 round of habits rather than duties, and impassive 
 rather than content. They were then conducted 
 to their separate cells, where they were left for the 
 night. 
 
 Francesca felt oppressed as she gazed on the 
 bare walls, the wooden pallet, the crucifix at the 
 foot, where the wan light of the ill-supplied lamp 
 gave a strange ghastliness to the dying agony of 
 the Saviour. She turned to the casement, on which 
 the moon was shining ; for the high wind had 
 driven aside the clouds, whose huge dark masses 
 threatened soon to eclipse the pale and dim circle 
 of passing light. The window opened on a square 
 court-yard, paved, and surrounded by the heavy 
 building, whose high dead walls seemed to repel 
 the gaze. 
 
 The imagination of the Italian, accustomed to 
 the picturesque convents of her native land, shrank 
 from the sterile austerity around. "Alas!" thought 
 she, " can the Almighty Benefactor, who de- 
 lighteth in the work of his hands — who has 
 covered the fair earth with beauty as with a gar- 
 ment, — can he take pleasure in the penance 
 which fills this sullen edifice ? Why are we sent 
 into life, but to share in life's sympathies and
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 185 
 
 struggles? Methinks it is not well, thus to make 
 a fenced boundary of that devotion which should 
 mingle with and aid every action of existence. ,, 
 
 Again the wind drove the dark vapours across the 
 moon ; a heavy rain began to pour down ; and cast- 
 ing one more glance round the gloomy quadrangle, 
 she felt it a relief to gaze on a medal of the Madon- 
 na, which hung round her neck. It recalled all 
 the vivid hopes and beliefs of her childhood, when 
 she was wont to kneel before some lovely image, till 
 the face seemed to smile encouragement, and the 
 little supplicant felt as if beneath a mother's eye. 
 This period had long since passed ; the discursive 
 reading, the enlightened discourse of her grand- 
 father, had cast her mind in a different mould 
 to the usual superstition of her country ; but faith 
 and love were only more pure and perfect in a 
 soul too innocent not to be religious. 
 
 At the morrow's early matins, Francesca's at- 
 tention was particularly drawn towards one nun. 
 Sister Louise was still in the early period of youth, 
 but it was youth from which bloom had utterly 
 departed. The features were thin, even to emacia- 
 tion, and cheek and lip were alike colourless; 
 while this deadly paleness rendered more remark- 
 able the large lustrous black eyes, filled with all 
 the light of excited fervour. But when the en-
 
 186 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 thusiasm of devotion died away, as it were, with 
 the dying notes of the anthem, the whole face 
 wore the impress of fixed melancholy, to which 
 there could be no hope but beyond the grave. 
 
 " That is Mademoiselle d'Epernon," replied 
 Madame de Mercosur, in answer to her friend's 
 inquiry: " lean scarcely recognise her. When I 
 first arrived in Paris, she was among the most 
 celebrated of our youthful beauties — one whose 
 destiny promised to be brilliant as herself. The 
 crown of Poland was offered for her acceptance ; 
 when she announced her intention of retiring from 
 the world. Prayer and remonstrance were alike 
 in vain; and she took the veil before she was 
 nineteen. '' 
 
 The attraction between Louise (for so she was 
 always called) and Francesca was mutual, and 
 they soon became constant companions during the 
 few leisure moments that the constant succession 
 of religious offices permitted. Worked up to a 
 high pitch of devotional enthusiasm, Louise was 
 energetic in the performance of penance, and 
 fervid in psalm and prayer ; but from all other 
 duties she shrunk with disgust, and never volun- 
 tarily participated in the ordinary employments 
 of her associates. A convent to her had evidently 
 been the refuge of the bruised spirit and of the
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 187 
 
 broken heart. At first, Rome was the great 
 theme of their discourse. Rome, the mighty mother 
 of the Christian faith, whose amphitheatres had 
 been red with the blood of the saints, and where 
 the pilgrimage and the miracle still testified to the 
 truth. But it was not likely that conversation 
 between two very young persons should always 
 keep to this exalted strain ; the feelings are sure to 
 follow close upon imaginings, and confidence is 
 natural to youth. 
 
 Francesca had been so long accustomed to 
 have every thought spring from the heart to the 
 lip, that the restraint so familiar to those with 
 whom she had of late associated, oppressed and 
 chilled her. Reserve and distrust seemed equally 
 painful and unnatural; it was too soon for the 
 pride of art, which supports so many through 
 winding and rugged pathways. 
 
 Louise, bred up amid strict forms and courtly 
 observances, perhaps found the far greater relief. 
 To talk of herself and of her feelings, with the 
 entire conviction of affectionate attention in the 
 listener, was a new sensation. Besides, there was 
 now such a wide and such an irretrievable gulf 
 opened between her present and the past, that she 
 referred to the days of her youth with a delight 
 like that of age, which recalls mournfully and
 
 188 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 tenderly joys and sorrows which never more can 
 disturb a pilgrimage, which is even now passing 
 through the valley of the shadows of death. The 
 monastic seclusion of Sister Louise was like old 
 age, inasmuch as all events and emotions in life 
 were left far behind ; all emotions, did we say ? 
 — not so. There are some that will rise even at 
 the foot of the altar, and will haunt the pillow, 
 however guarded by penance and by prayer. 
 These remembrances would have been less vivid 
 had Mademoiselle d'Epernon remained in the 
 world : love would have become its own atheist, 
 as it found of what changeable and finite material 
 that passion was formed, which once seemed so 
 eternal ; and the single disappointment on which 
 she now dwelt would have grown supportable from 
 companionship. Mademoiselle d'Epernon, in the 
 gay and varied pathway of busier life, would have 
 almost lost the image, now so constant and so 
 precious. 
 
 At the back of the convent was a large though 
 neglected garden. Fruit and yew-trees mingled 
 together; and in some of the more sunny patches, 
 one or two of the nuns had cultivated some carna- 
 tions, whose green buds were just beginning to 
 take the small globular form, which, as yet, had 
 no beauty but that of promise.
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 189 
 
 " I observe," said Francesca to her companion, 
 " that you have no flowers." 
 
 " I have not patience to cultivate them," re- 
 plied Louise: " I planted some once; but, poor 
 things, they soon perished for want of care. I 
 used to love them ; but now my thoughts wander 
 away from the flowers to their recollections — to 
 all that should be so utterly banished from my 
 meditations." 
 
 Perhaps there is not a situation in the world 
 so confidential as pacing up and down some shady 
 walk, arm in arm. The freedom of that freest ele- 
 ment, the air, communicates itself to the thoughts; 
 the green obscurity of the closing branches over- 
 head re-assures timidity ; the motion gives its own 
 activity, and dissipates the nervous restlessness 
 ever attendant on excitement. Your face is neces- 
 sarily a little averted from your companion's, 
 though not enough to prevent your marking the 
 attention given. Then the chance which led to your 
 choice of subject was so accidental, the discourse 
 has proceeded so gradually, that restraint has 
 melted away from the lip, and reserve from the 
 heart? almost before the speaker is aware that the 
 secret soul has found its way in words. ' 
 
 " I can scarcely," said the nun, as she com- 
 plied with Francesca's request that she would
 
 190 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 trace the progress of the change — seemingly so 
 strange and sudden — which sent the youthful 
 beauty from the court to the cloister, " recall one 
 sorrow or one disappointment in my earlier life. I 
 had good health, a gay temper, and was surrounded 
 by indulgence and affection, — from my father, of 
 whom I wa3 the darling plaything, to my nurse, 
 whose principal object in existence was myself. 
 
 " The court was at its very gayest, when, on 
 our return from England, my age allowed me to 
 participate in the festivities which were the order of 
 the day. The sombre austerity of the late King had 
 disappeared with himself — the dissensions, whose 
 echoes have pierced even these walls, had not then 
 commenced. There was some truth in the flattery 
 which said, that the Queen ruled all France with 
 a smile. But the pleasantest time of our life leaves 
 the lightest impression ; or, perhaps, one deep feel- 
 ing has absorbed all memory, as it has destroyed 
 all hope. I am astonished to think how little I 
 remember of all the light fancies and vanities which 
 made the delight of my first two years at court. 
 
 " Perhaps you have heard that there was once 
 some purpose of marriage between the LUc de 
 Joyeuse and myself; it is of that which I have 
 to tell. Even in your brief experience of society, 
 you must have discovered that its success has its
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 191 
 
 chances. There are some evenings when you suc- 
 ceed, you scarcely know why, and the homage of 
 one seems only to attract that of another. It wa3 
 on such an evening that I first met the Due de 
 Joyeuse. I danced with him, and he scarcely 
 spoke to me ; — perhaps the contrast had its effect, 
 for that night my silent cavalier was the only one 
 who obtained a second thought. I felt a vague 
 desire to see him again ; I wondered whether he 
 was always so reserved ; I endeavoured to recall the 
 few words which he had said ; and rose the next 
 morning eager and impatient, expecting I knew 
 not what. How long the morning seemed ! I 
 scarcely heard a word that was said to me ; I could 
 keep my attention to nothing. I went to a ball in 
 the evening. My eyes fixed involuntarily on the 
 door ; every one seemed to enter excepting the one 
 whom I could not help anticipating in every new 
 arrival. I danced without spirit ; I found the 
 evening wearisome ; I complained of fatigue ; and 
 I retired to rest with a discontent and a des- 
 pondency entirely new to my experience. 
 
 " Mademoiselle de Montpensier was at that 
 time my most intimate friend ; and the next morn- 
 ing she entered my chamber before I was risen, a 
 slight headache serving as an excuse. * As 
 usual,' said she, laughing, ' I am come to tell you
 
 192 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 of your conquests. I was at Madame de Guise's 
 yesterday evening, and her youngest son could 
 talk of nothing but Mademoiselle d'Epernon.' 
 ' Why, he scarcely spoke to me !' ' Speaking . of 
 you,' replied my companion, ' is far more ex- 
 pressive : but you are actually blushing about it, 
 — I do verily believe it is a mutual impression.' 
 
 " My mother entered my room at that mo- 
 ment ; but Mademoiselle went on rallying, and it 
 seemed to me that the subject was not disagreeable 
 even to her. Alas, how that thought encouraged 
 my own weakness ! The truth was, that an 
 alliance between the houses of Guise and Epernon 
 was at that time deemed equally suitable by both. 
 How little can the very young comprehend the 
 affections being made matter of policy ! I dis- 
 covered that my headache was gone with a sur- 
 prising degree of rapidity ; I arose with such gay 
 spirits, I found the liveliest pleasure in all my 
 usual occupations. True, I did not continue long at 
 any of them, and every now and then lost myself 
 in such a delicious reverie of the coining evening. 
 
 " It was not quite so delightful as I expected ; 
 for shame and confusion for the first hour of the 
 Due de Joyeuse's presence made me scarce con- 
 scious of what I said or how I looked ; and during 
 the last I could think of nothing but how silly I
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 193 
 
 must appear to him. Still, with what a happy 
 flutter of the heart I flung myself into my 
 fauteuil that night, to think over the events of the 
 evening ! 
 
 " Time passed on, and Francois became my 
 avowed lover. About two months after our first 
 meeting, I was taken ill, and of the small-pox. 
 The holy saints forgive me for the horror with 
 which I heard my disease pronounced ! I prayed 
 in my inmost soul that I might die rather than 
 become unlovely in his sight : I have been justly 
 punished. With what a strange mixture of joy 
 and dread did I hear his voice, almost hourly, in 
 the antechamber, making the most anxious in- 
 quiries ! Others shunned the poisoned atmosphere, 
 but Francois feared it not. What prayers I implored 
 them to make in my name that he would refrain 
 from such visits! 
 
 " One day he came not : I was told, and 
 truly, that business the most imperative required 
 his personal attendance ; yet I could not force 
 the ghastly terror of his illness from my mind. 
 I dared not tempt my fate by content — the agony 
 which I suffered seemed a sort of expiation. The 
 next day I heard his voice, and fainted. Fran- 
 cesca, it is an awful thing thus to allow your 
 destiny to be bound up in that of another — to live 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 194 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 but by the beatings of another's heart, — thus, as 
 it were, to double your portion in every risk and 
 weakness of humanity. 
 
 " I cannot describe to you the mixture of 
 anxiety and shame with which I desired to know 
 how I looked. One morning, while alone with 
 my mother, I asked her to bring me a little mirror 
 that was wont to lie on the table ; she smiled, and 
 said, l Not yet, Louise/ I never felt one moment's 
 care after that — I knew that she could not have 
 smiled, had she anticipated any very terrible alter- 
 ation. At length I was able to rise — to move 
 from one chamber to another, and at last to see 
 Francois. Do you wonder I cannot bear flowers, 
 when I tell you that he used to bring them to 
 me every day ? I was too happy : earth, in its 
 perfect enjoyment, had no thought for heaven. 
 Life is but a trial ; and wherefore was I to receive 
 my reward before the time ? But, ah ! my friend, 
 a woman may well be forgiven for the passionate 
 sorrow with which she sees the empire of the heart 
 pass away from her. Is it a light thing to dis- 
 cover that you are poor, where you deemed that 
 the most precious riches were garnered ? — to find 
 what had seemed to you like fate, treated as a 
 trifle and a toy? — to think that affection, which 
 gathered pride from its imperishable nature, is yet
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 195 
 
 dependent on such slight circumstances? — The 
 discovery, too, how much you have overrated your 
 own power ? humiliation and regret exchange but 
 to heighten their bitterness. 
 
 " Soon after my recovery, Mademoiselle de 
 Guise appeared to seek my friendship more than 
 she had before done. How willingly I met her 
 advances ! — I loved Francois too well not to love 
 those connected with him. Yet her friendship 
 disturbed our intercourse ; she was constantly in- 
 terrupting our conversations, and I found myself 
 perpetually engaged in a whispering dialogue, 
 from which Francois was completely excluded. 
 She possessed a peculiar talent for placing every 
 body in their worst possible light ; I felt that I 
 never appeared to advantage in her presence. She 
 drew from you some playful opinion, and then, 
 suddenly repeating your words seriously, would, 
 by some imperceptible change, contrive to make 
 your expression appear the unconscious betrayal of 
 some strangely unamiable feeling. Mademoiselle 
 de Montpensier warned me against her treachery. 
 ' She hates you,' said my friend ; ' you give into 
 her snares, and will be surprised when you find 
 they have succeeded .' I little heeded this warning 
 — it is so difficult for the young to believe them- 
 selves hated without a cause !
 
 196 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 " A few weeks after my illness we went to 
 Sedan. A thousand slight anxieties and difficul- 
 ties, contrived by Mademoiselle de Guise, had 
 kept me in a perpetual fever ; my health was 
 sinking under them — and change of air and scene 
 always seem such infallible remedies where the 
 pale cheek is considered, and not the harassed 
 spirits. Indeed, the persecution under which I 
 suffered was one not easily to be told in words ; I 
 had not then thought over it as I have done since. 
 The journey, therefore, was principally undertaken 
 on my account ; but, once at Sedan, and some 
 affairs of my father's detained us beyond the time 
 that had been expected. 
 
 " Long as our absence appeared, it ended in 
 our return to Paris. One — two — three days 
 elapsed, and Francois never came ; yet he knew 
 of our arrival, and was only separated from us by 
 a street. The fourth day brought Mademoiselle 
 de Montpensier. She laughed, and, recalling her 
 former warning, asked me, ' Who was right V and 
 informed me that the Due de Joyeuse was now 
 the devoted attendant of Mademoiselle Guerchy ; 
 and she ended in being quite angry with me for 
 not seeming so utterly overwhelmed as she ex- 
 pected. There were two causes for this ; first, 
 and that indeed was chief, in my secret soul 1
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 197 
 
 disbelieved what she asserted ; and, secondly, I 
 felt so angry with her want of sympathy. 
 
 " But her assertion soon proved its truth. That 
 very evening I met both the Due de Joyeuse and 
 Mademoiselle Guerchy ; — a slight embarrassment 
 on his part, a little air of triumphant impertinence 
 on hers, and an affected but insolent commisera- 
 tion from Mademoiselle de Guise, told the whole. 
 Francesca, I have heard my father say, that the 
 shock of a gun-wound at first deadens the pain, 
 and the suffering is lost in the shock. Mine was 
 such a case ; it was confusion, not pride, which 
 supported me through the evening. When we 
 were in the carriage, my mother put her arm 
 round me, and said, ' I am charmed with your 
 conduct, my child ; you treated cet jeune insolent 
 with fitting disdain.' A sudden resolution grew 
 up in my heart, and I thought within myself, 
 ' My mother shall not be made wretched by my 
 misery ;' and, with a strong effort, I restrained 
 the impulse which prompted me to throw myself 
 on her neck and weep. 
 
 " It is singular how little I recollect of the 
 succeeding period. My existence was a blank — 
 I neither thought nor felt; a strange impatience 
 actuated all my actions. I longed for change— for 
 movement ; I dreaded being left a moment. I
 
 198 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 craved for pleasures which, nevertheless, I did not 
 enjoy. I grew bitter in my words — I believed the 
 worst of every one ; nay, I sometimes doubted the 
 affection of my kind, my indulgent parents. But 
 let me hastily pass over this vain and profitless 
 epoch, — the fierce tempest, and the weary calm, 
 were but the appointed means by which I reached 
 the harbour of faith and rest. 
 
 " During our stay at Bourdeaux, I accom- 
 panied my mother to a little convent, whither had 
 retired an earlv friend, one who had seen much 
 trouble, and known many sorrows. I was aware 
 of her history, and was singularly struck with her 
 calm and gentle manner. I left the cell ; and my 
 chance wandering through the garden led me to 
 the burial-ground. I sat down on one of the 
 graves, at first from very idleness ; but the still 
 solemnity of the place gradually impressed my 
 thoughts — the presence of the dead made itself 
 felt. I looked over the numerous tombstones, so 
 various in their dates : — the maiden reposed by the 
 full of years ; — all bore the same inscription — ' Re- 
 quiescat in pace, 1 I had before seen the words — I 
 had never before reflected on them. What was 
 this peace? — I felt that it was the peace of hope, 
 as well as of rest. It was not only that the tur- 
 moil of this feverish life was at an end, but that
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 199 
 
 such end was only the beginning. I saw the sun- 
 shine falling over the tombs — to me it seemed like 
 the blessing of Heaven made visible. It so hap- 
 pened that the place where I sat was the only one 
 in shadow : to my excited feelings, the darkness 
 was emblematic. I stepped forth into the glorious 
 sunshine, and prayed that even as that light 
 illumined my mortal frame, so might the Divine 
 grace illumine my soul! From that instant I 
 vowed myself unto God. I know, Francesca, 
 that you consider this but as the ill-regulated 
 enthusiasm of a moment — and such I now confess 
 that it was. 
 
 "But out of evil worketh good. That enthu- 
 siasm led to reflection — that reflection to convic- 
 tion. I became deeply penetrated with the vanity 
 and the worthlessness of my former life. I looked 
 at its petty cares — its bitter sorrows, and said, 
 ' Oh, that I had the wings of the dove, for then 
 would I flee away and be at rest ;' and then I 
 learned that faith had wings even like the dove's, 
 and that its rest was in heaven. ► One trial yet 
 remained ; but I trusted, in all humility, that the 
 difficulty would make the sacrifice more accept- 
 able. Yet, from day to day, I delayed telling my 
 mother, that in me she saw the dedicated servant 
 of God. Every time I sought her presence I
 
 200 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 resolved on the disclosure, but in vain ; the words 
 died on my lips, and again I had to pray for 
 strength from above. 
 
 " One morning I was summoned at an earlier 
 hour than usual to her chamber. She received me 
 with an expression of rejoicing affection, which 
 shewed me she had something more than usually 
 pleasant to unfold. I had scarcely taken my 
 accustomed low seat at her side, when, opening 
 a casket which stood on the table near her, she 
 took out a diamond tiara, and, placing it in my 
 hair, pointed to the glass. l Ah, my child!' she 
 exclaimed, ' you well become your future crown ! ' 
 and, without waiting for my reply, she informed 
 me that my father's negotiations for my marriage 
 had been completely successful, and that the King 
 of Poland had demanded my hand. 
 
 " The time for concealment was over. Sup- 
 ported by a strength not my own, I threw myself 
 at her feet, and avowed my unalterable resolve. 
 That dear mother has since died in my arms, 
 blessing her child, and rejoicing that I had chosen 
 the better path ; and yet, even now, I shrink from 
 recalling the suffering of that scene. The cloister 
 then seemed to my beloved parent even as the 
 grave; and, ah ! my father's anger was terrible to 
 bear, for it was an anger that grew out of love.
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 201 
 
 u But if their reproaches cut me to the heart, 
 how much more did I suffer from their entreaties ? 
 Yet I persevered even to the end, and was per- 
 mitted to begin my year of noviciate in the hope 
 that my resolution would falter when put to the 
 trial. They knew not in what entire sincerity it had 
 been taken. I remember a letter of remonstrance 
 I received from Mademoiselle de Montpensier, 
 and, among other arguments, was this : * I implore 
 you to marry the King of Poland, if it were only 
 to mortify Mademoiselle de Guise.' She was little 
 aware that forgiveness of even her enmity had 
 been the earliest offering of my heart above. 
 
 " I have never repented my choice ; every 
 hour I have felt my belief more perfect, and my 
 hope more exalted. Had I remained in the world, 
 experience could but have brought me added dis- 
 content, and more utter weariness. I had been 
 too profoundly disabused of life's dearest illusions 
 ever again to allow of their sweet engrossment. 
 Only those who have looked hopelessly upon life, 
 and turned again to the restless and gloomy depths 
 of their own heart with a despair which is as the 
 shadow of the valley of death, — only they can 
 know the peace that is of heaven, and the faith 
 that looks beyond the portals of the grave. 
 
 " Once only since my abode in this convent 
 k2
 
 202 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 has my heart gone back to the things of its former 
 life ; but tenderly — not repiningly. Mademoiselle 
 de Montpensier passed here a week in Lent, and 
 her first intelligence was, that the Due cle Joyeuse 
 had died of the wounds he had received while 
 leading on a charge of cavalry during a sortie from 
 Paris. He died, too, unmarried. Heaven forgive 
 the weakness which found in that thought sweetest 
 consolation! I was free to remember him — to 
 pray for him — to know that to none other could 
 his memory be precious as it was to me. Perhaps 
 even now, looking down from another world, 
 better and happier than the one where we go on 
 our way in heaviness, he knows with what truth 
 and constancy I loved him. I now dare hope to 
 meet him again ; for, Francesca, what may we 
 not hope from the goodness of God ?" 
 
 The nun's voice sank into silence, and her 
 companion saw that her pale cheek was warm 
 with emotion, and her large lustrous eyes bright 
 with tears. A kind pressure of the hand ex- 
 pressed her sympathy, and they parted, — Louise 
 to join a service about to be performed, requiring 
 the attendance of the sisters only, and Francesca 
 to her solitary cell, to muse over the votary's 
 confession. But she looked back to the world ; 
 her yet unbroken spirit asked activity, not repose
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 203 
 
 — a thousand hopes and wishes rose in vivid 
 colours upon her imagination. She knew as little 
 what she asked as what she anticipated ; still the 
 future was before her, and all know what the 
 future is to youth. Nothing more truly proves 
 that life is but a trial — than the pleasures which 
 depart, the sense of enjoyment which deadens, and 
 the disappointments which spring up at every step 
 in our pilgrimage. Could life preserve its illusions, 
 who would be fit to die ? Vanity of vanities is 
 written on this side of the grave, but that we may 
 more clearly discern that on the other shines the 
 hope of immortality.
 
 204 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 A new world rises, and new manners reign/' 
 
 Young. 
 
 The first week after their arrival at Compeigne, 
 the Duchesse was confined to her room by slight 
 indisposition ; and Francesca never left her. It 
 was a constant gratification to perceive, that, but 
 for herself, the Duchesse's sick-room would have 
 been dull and solitary ; for Marie was so much 
 occupied with the gaiety of the court, that she had 
 little leisure for the amusement of an invalid. 
 
 One morning, the first that Madame de 
 Mercoeur had been equal to the task of receiving- 
 visitors, the Chevalier de Joinville and^Mr. Evelyn 
 arrived together. 
 
 " Ah, Madame!" exclaimed the former, " what 
 a pity you were not present to witness Mademoiselle 
 Mancini's triumph last night ! — the mere necessity 
 for yielding in such a case was victory."
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 205 
 
 " Let me hear what the triumph was/' said 
 their hostess. 
 
 " You are aware that the entertainment last 
 night was given in honour of the Queen of Eng- 
 land. Few were admitted, as it was quite the 
 household circle, and all ceremony was to be 
 waved. So thought our young King ; for when 
 he led his partner to the dance, that partner was 
 not the Princess Henriette, but Mademoiselle 
 Mancini. The Queen rose, snatched away the 
 King's hand, and led him to the pretty little fairy, 
 whose eyes were already filled with tears — the 
 fear of not dancing being before them. Louis 
 turned away, saying, ' He would rather not dance 
 at all than dance with a child.' His mother in- 
 sisted — the English Queen interfered — Mademoi- 
 selle Marie was the very image of triumphant 
 submission — and we all stood round, looking as 
 innocent and indifferent as possible. The King 
 gave way at last, and danced with la petite ; but 
 looks and words were alike addressed to your 
 sister. Ay, and our white-handed Queen sees she 
 must conciliate ; for, at the close of the evening, 
 she expressed her regret that she had been so 
 hasty, and caressed Mademoiselle Mancini, as if 
 there was something to be made up with her."
 
 206 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 " Once for all," interrupted Madame de Mer- 
 cosur, " I wish you would not talk such nonsense ; 
 their Majesties are too good ; and it was as much 
 my sister's duty to obey the King by standing up 
 to dance, as it was to resign her place, when she 
 understood that such was the Queen's wish." 
 
 The Chevalier saw at once that the subject 
 was unpleasing, and immediately changed it. 
 
 " You know, I suppose, that our northern 
 Penthesilea arrives to-morrow; she has amazed 
 the good people of Paris, and we are all preparing 
 to be astonished." 
 
 " I hope," said Evelyn, " that we shall not 
 exhaust our astonishment en avant — that very 
 common process of anticipation." 
 
 " According to my belief," replied the Cheva- 
 lier, " there is nothing worth anticipating." 
 
 " Nothing worth realising, you mean ! " ex- 
 claimed Francesca. 
 
 " Nay," returned the Chevalier ; "I do not 
 come from so poetical a country as your fair Italy 
 — to me reality is every thing. Let my pleasure 
 come, and I will enjoy it; but I really cannot 
 afford to waste my time beforehand in a thousand 
 visionary Anxieties. No ; I hold hope to be a 
 great mistake — life is too short for it."
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 207 
 
 " It is too true that nothing realises your 
 previous idea — and then how bitter is your dis- 
 appointment!" replied Francesca. 
 
 " You seem to have acquired much experience 
 in a brief space ; it is somewhat soon to be con- 
 vinced of the worthlessness of pleasure," answered 
 De Joinville, with an almost imperceptible sneer. 
 Slight as the expression was, it had its effect on 
 the young Italian, who instantly resumed her 
 usual silence. 
 
 We talk of youth as our happiest season, 
 because, perhaps, we do not begin to moralise 
 upon it till it has been long past. The present 
 sorrow always exceeds its predecessors — not so 
 the present joy ; comparison exaggerates the one, 
 while it diminishes the other ; and people talk of 
 their youth as if it had not been a period of 
 feverish sensitiveness, awkward embarrassments, 
 many heart-burnings, and an utter want of that 
 self-reliance which alone can ensure content. It is 
 folly to dwell on any season's peculiar happiness ; 
 each might in turn be weighed in the balance, 
 and found wanting. 
 
 The week following Madame de Mercosur's 
 recovery was one of great gaiety. Fete succeeded 
 fete in honour of the arrival of Christina of 
 Sweden, who seemed to communicate her own
 
 208 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 reckless love of novelty to the then somewhat 
 staid French court. Claim your privileges as an 
 oddity, and even you yourself will be astonished 
 at their extent. In an atmosphere of ceremony, 
 Christina was free as air; surrounded by forms, 
 she observed none of them ; and, equally lax in 
 her moral and religious notions, she yet succeeded 
 with a queen now prude and devotee — and both, 
 it may be, the more strongly pronounced, from 
 their being late assumptions. Anne of Austria 
 was amused, so was Louis ; and VAmazone philo- 
 sophe had a prodigious run. 
 
 There never was mask so gay but some tears 
 were shed behind it ; and Francesca, one perhaps 
 among many, found it possible to be very sad, 
 even at a festival. Despite of Madame de Mer- 
 cosur's kindness, her situation was often painful, 
 and always disagreeable. She could not but con- 
 trast her lot with that of others ; of course she 
 could only judge of the exterior, which at least 
 seemed so much more brilliant than her own. 
 They had friends, connexions whose credit was 
 mutual, fortune, and a denned place in society ; 
 she was an orphan, poor and dependent. Many 
 who hated and yet cringed to the Mancinis took 
 a sort of petty revenge in slights shewn to a 
 favourite without influence ; she pined under a
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 209 
 
 constant sense of isolation, ever most painful when 
 felt in a crowd. She was a spectator, not a par- 
 taker, of the gaiety around ; for, in truth, gaiety 
 must make some small appeal to our vanity before 
 it is enjoyed. The dance, to be delightful, must 
 have an interest in the partner, or the eclat of 
 display ; and both these attractions were wanting 
 to Francesca. In the numbers that surrounded 
 her, there was not one individual for whom she 
 cared, few who even honoured her with passing 
 notice ; and she daily heard the beauty and grace 
 extolled to the skies which could not for a moment 
 bear comparison with her own. 
 
 One would think that, in society, beauty, in- 
 stead of lying on the surface, was in the mine, 
 and required discovery ; the majority would never 
 discover the loveliness of the Venus de Medici, 
 unless it were pointed out to them. Francesca's 
 feelings were those of all whom a chance circum- 
 stance has placed in some brilliant circle without 
 the acknowledged rank or fortune necessary to 
 make their right of entrance ; and yet with an 
 innate consciousness of superiority, which makes 
 neglect more bitter, by adding to it a sense of 
 injustice. 
 
 There were many who would have felt nothing 
 of all this — who would have made their way by
 
 210 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 little and little — who would either have been 
 useful or agreeable, as might have suited the 
 occasion, till they reached an elevation astonishing 
 even to themselves, when the sneer might be re- 
 membered and the scorn retorted, as no advantage 
 was longer to be obtained by endurance. Thus, as 
 usual, ending the career of flattery by insolence. 
 
 Francesca was at once too simple and too high- 
 minded ; simple as regarded worldly knowledge, 
 but high-minded, as feeling and talent ever are. 
 With her, time passed on, divided between disgust 
 and indifference ; or an increasing anxiety re- 
 specting her connexion with Evelyn. He still 
 urged a secret marriage, but now she no longer 
 found it difficult to refuse. Fidelity to her early 
 vow yet appeared a duty ; however, like most 
 proofs of faith, it was to be put off as long as 
 possible.
 
 211 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 'Tis a dark labyrinth the human heart." 
 
 Young. 
 
 Francesca one evening attended Madame de 
 Mercosur to the small circle allowed entrance to 
 the Queen's dressing-room. The morning had 
 been one of great fatigue, so that but few of the 
 court were admitted ; and Anne of Austria herself 
 was in that deini-toilette so favourable to the twi- 
 light of beauty. She wore a loose dress of gray 
 silk, edged with black, and fastened with loops of 
 pearl. A portion of her still beautiful hair was 
 parted in two rich auburn bands on her forehead ; 
 while the rest was hidden by a long black crape 
 veil, which hung nearly to her feet, and set off 
 the exquisite fairness of her skin, the more striking 
 as she wore no rouge. It was difficult to suppose 
 her the mother of the young man who leant on 
 the back of her chair ; for Louis looked as much 
 older than he really was as she looked younger.
 
 212 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 It was said of Anne of Austria, after she had 
 been some time Regent, that her misfortunes had 
 been her only attraction ; — to them might be added 
 her appearance ; it was the very reverse of her 
 character, in the sensitive and changeable com- 
 plexion, and its long-retained youthfulness. Yet 
 few had grown more old in worldliness and decep- 
 tion — forgetful in friendship, and vindictive in 
 resentment. She had all the faults peculiar to 
 very weak people — faults which are of the mean- 
 est order ; violent, for it requires strength of mind 
 to curb emotion ; obstinate, for with the obstinate 
 opinion is made up of habit and conceit ; and 
 cunning, for cunning is the genius of the fool. It 
 is difficult to account for the influence acquired 
 over her by Cardinal Mazarin, unless we adopt 
 the belief of their private marriage ; for in their 
 connexion there was something of the authority 
 of the husband, but none of the devotion of the 
 lover. His manner to her was abrupt, often 
 harsh; it implied the necessity for yielding. La 
 haute devotion, to use an untranslatable phrase of 
 the time, to which she was addicted, belonged less 
 to the mistress, whose chains may be regretted 
 and broken, than to the wife, whose repentance 
 comes un peu tard, and who may as well make 
 her obedience matter of conscience. Her conduct,
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 213 
 
 too, after his death, was very like the conduct of 
 those who are always " wonderfully supported;" 
 suited also to her particular situation, in which 
 there was so little need for keeping up the sem- 
 blance of grief, and in strict accordance with her 
 own paramount selfishness. When those around 
 her thought to pay their court by exaggerating 
 the merits of the deceased, she exclaimed, " Mon 
 Dieu! we must drop the subject — I am sure the 
 King is sick of it ; we have really enough to do, 
 without wasting time in useless words." It would 
 be no uncharitable supposition were we to conclude, 
 that newly recovered liberty — that word which 
 always appears so charming — was sufficiently 
 agreeable to afford a widow's consolation. 
 
 Francesca — who, like all persons of naturally 
 fine taste that have lived much in solitude, was 
 keenly alive to the charms of manner — fixed her 
 whole attention on the card-table where the Queen 
 was playing. She was struck with the grace which 
 made the common courtesies of the game appear 
 like personal compliment, while the caressing air 
 with which she occasionally addressed individuals 
 standing round seemed at once so pleasing and so 
 much in earnest. " How is it possible," thought 
 the young Italian, " that one so fascinating could 
 ever have been neglected by her husband, and the
 
 214 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 object of hatred to the fierce and insolent faction 
 so recently subdued V* 
 
 Her meditation was interrupted by an unusual 
 bustle in the antechamber, when, before the pages 
 could announce her, the Queen of Sweden walked, 
 or rather ran, into the room. Advancing straight 
 to the Queen, she exclaimed, u A thousand con- 
 gratulations — 1 have just heard of the taking 
 of Valence, and could not rest till I had rejoiced 
 with you on the success of your arms." 
 
 Victory is an agreeable subject, and the visitor 
 and her compliments were equally well received. 
 
 " You may give me credit for sincerity," con- 
 tinued she, " as there is some selfishness in it. 
 It hurts one's vanity to be mistaken ; and you 
 know I prophesied the success of the fleur- 
 de-lis." 
 
 " Valence," observed M. de Nogent, one of the 
 party at the card-table, " was besieged a hundred 
 years since by the French army, but unsuccess- 
 fully ; the fort has never before been taken, 
 and — " 
 
 " And you should have been there," interrupted 
 Christina abruptly, " with your long stories of a 
 hundred years since ; I would rather hear them 
 a hundred years hence." Then turning, with a 
 singular change of countenance from harshness to
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 215 
 
 extreme sweetness, to Madame de Mercoeur, " I 
 give you joy that your husband should be the first 
 conqueror of this redoubtable Valence." 
 
 " I deserve," replied the Duchesse, " some 
 compensation for the anxiety I have endured." 
 
 " Anxiety ! nonsense !" exclaimed the Swede ; 
 " a man is never in his proper element but when 
 fighting. I am persuaded that war was always 
 meant to be the one great luxury of the human 
 race. War calls out all our good qualities ; courage 
 teaches a man to respect himself — and self-respect 
 is at once the beginning and the guarantee of 
 excellence. Besides, a campaign teaches patience, 
 generosity, and exertion. So much for the morale; 
 and as to the enjoyment, pardiea ! I can imagine 
 nothing beyond the excitement of leading a charge 
 of cavalry." 
 
 " Alas, Madam," said the King, smiling, " why 
 cannot I offer you the baton of a marshal V 
 
 " You cannot lament," returned she, " the 
 impossibility more than I do. What could God 
 mean by sending me into the world a woman? — 
 But let us change this mournful subject — it really 
 affects my feelings." 
 
 " I am rejoiced," observed Louis, " that you 
 have recovered from the ennui of Messieurs les 
 Jesuites' tragedy."
 
 216 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 " I protest," was her reply, " equally against 
 confession or tragedy from them ; their rules are 
 too lax in both." 
 
 " You do not seem," said the Queen, evidently 
 wishing to change the subject just started, " to 
 have been much pleased with our dramatic repre- 
 sentations; but we have not been fortunate — our 
 actors are generally more amusing." 
 
 " I suppose so," replied Christina, " as you 
 keep them still. But I see I have interrupted 
 your game ; go on, and do not mind me — I should 
 like to have another victory to congratulate you 
 upon." 
 
 Crossing the room, she seated herself on one 
 chair, while, drawing another towards her, she 
 placed her feet upon it, and thus stretched out 
 negligently, began talking in a low tone to the 
 Kins: and Mademoiselle Mancini. 
 
 Francesca had now an opportunity of observing 
 her more closely, and found that her appearance, 
 if equally singular, was more picturesque than she 
 had heard described. Her dress was odd enough, 
 half-masculine, half-feminine ; but it became her. 
 She wore a sort of jacket of bright red camlet, 
 richly braided with gold and silver lace ; a fringe 
 of which also hung from her gray petticoat, which 
 was short enough to shew her feet and ankles,.
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 217 
 
 whose small size was rendered more remarkable 
 by the peculiar- shaped boot. A crimson scarf, 
 flung over one shoulder, adroitly hid the defect in 
 her figure ; and round her throat was a neckcloth 
 edged with point lace, and fastened with a crimson 
 riband. She was 'delicately fair, with an aquiline 
 nose, and a mouth the size of which was forgotten 
 in its white teeth and pleasant smile. She wore a 
 peruke of very fair golden hair ; and herein was 
 shewn the lurking spirit of female vanity : her own 
 tresses had been very beautiful ; in some whim 
 she had had them shaven off, but the colour 
 of the peruke had been most assiduously assorted 
 to them. Her eyes, large, blue, bright, and rest- 
 less, were her most remarkable feature, perhaps 
 from their constant employ; they seemed perpe- 
 tually on the watch, and she had also a custom of 
 fixing them with singular intentness on the person 
 to whom she spoke. It was said this habit had 
 somewhat startled the Bishop of Amiens, whom 
 she selected for her confessor ; instead of the down- 
 cast eyes to which he had been accustomed, the 
 royal penitent, who then knelt at his feet, fixed 
 her clear piercing orbs full on his face, till the 
 good father was all but stared out of coun- 
 tenance. She was small and slight ; and the 
 impression she gave, as she lounged on her two 
 Vol. i. l
 
 218 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 seats, swinging to and fro her black hat and 
 feathers, was of a fair and pretty boy, clever, and 
 somewhat spoiled by indulgence. She commenced 
 her conversation with the King and his companion 
 by saying, " Pray, do not suspend your fleurettes 
 on my account; next to being in love myself, I 
 like to see other people in love. I shall be a 
 charming confidante. " 
 
 " Too charming," replied Marie, " not to be 
 dangerous." 
 
 " Very prettily said, but more pretty than true. 
 Falling in love is quite out of my way. I do not 
 often offer up thanksgivings ; but when I do, and 
 turn in my mind what to be grateful about, I 
 always give thanks for my indifference." 
 
 " You are selfish in your gratitude," said Louis. 
 
 " A very common case. But, truly, I have be- 
 come too worldly, have too many other things in 
 both head and heart, to find a place for love — it 
 takes up too much room. But this I do say ; if 
 there be an intense, overpowering happiness in 
 this world, it is first love, unsullied, unfrittered 
 away by a thousand vain considerations — deep, 
 fervent, and engrossing. Of what avail is a throne, 
 save to share it with a beloved one? One with 
 whom the deck of the frailest bark that ever cut 
 my own stormy seas would be paradise, and with-
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 219 
 
 out whom the whole wide world is but a desert. 
 Ay, such a love is indeed heaven or hell !" And 
 she flung herself back in her chair, and gave way 
 to one of those fits of absence in which she was 
 accustomed to indulge, with equal disregard o* 
 time, place, and company. 
 
 The young King looked tenderly at Mademoi- 
 selle Mancini, who gave him a glance quite as 
 tender in return — not, however, unobserved. His 
 mother had been for some time past a displeased 
 spectator of a predilection which might become 
 dangerous. With her usual dissimulation, she 
 refrained from evincing any outward sign of un- 
 easiness, and, beckoning Madame de Mercoeur, 
 apparently made some request. Madame de 
 Mercoeur crossed the room to Francesca, and 
 informed her that the Queen had heard of her 
 musical skill, and wished herself to judge of a 
 voice that had been so extolled. 
 
 Such a request was a command, though one 
 she felt inclined, had it been possible, to disobey. 
 Her vanity had been too little called forth for her 
 to rejoice in display ; she was too indifferent to 
 her audience to have any anxiety about pleasing 
 them — and she was perfectly aware of her own 
 powers. Moreover, she was actuated by a feeling 
 between indignation and disdain at being thus
 
 220 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 called on to minister to their pleasure who would 
 never dream of contributing to hers. Still, her lute 
 was brought ; and, with the first tone awakened 
 from the strings, she grew timid, as if she only 
 then noted how much the attention of the circle 
 was fixed upon her. At first her voice was tremu- 
 lous and low, but it soon asserted its delicious 
 power. Rich, deep, and melancholy, it was one 
 of those which appeal even more to the heart than 
 to the ear — one of those which, by some subtle 
 spell — music's best secret — seem to call up every 
 sad and sweet thought which memory has garnered 
 for years. 
 
 Every one was surprised, or rather touched, 
 into warm expressions of delight. The Queen's 
 quick eye glanced from Louis, who stood in fixed 
 attention, to the singer, who, far more confused 
 by the praise than the exertion, rose from the 
 kneeling position, whose very humility had in 
 it such grace, with that rich flushed colour, so 
 lovely in a face usually pale, and with downcast 
 eyes, whose darkness was only indicated by the 
 black and curled eyelash. 
 
 " How very lovely !" said the Queen in a 
 whisper, but loud enough for her son to hear, who 
 now approached, and took himself the lute from 
 Francesca. Christina, first indulging in a quick
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 221 
 
 and instantly suppressed smile, addressed a few 
 words, more kind even than flattering, to the 
 singer ; and Francesca, who an hour before had 
 been as much neglected as the old fauteuil by 
 which she had leant half concealed, was now the 
 centre of a little circle of admirers and flatterers. 
 Young, and a woman, it would be too much to 
 suppose that it was very disagreeable to her. 
 
 " I think," said Anne to Madame de Mercosur, 
 " we must obtain your protegee's services for our 
 intended masque ; however, I shall leave that to 
 you young people to settle/' turning to Louis as 
 she spoke. 
 
 The Swedish Queen saw at once that the day 
 for civility to Mademoiselle Mancini was over, at 
 least in the royal mother's presence, and that she 
 had lost some ground by her incautious encourage- 
 ment ; besides, the King's ready and obvious 
 admiration did not say much for his stability. 
 
 " He is too young to be trusted," thought she ; 
 " it takes half a dozen fantasies to prepare the way 
 for une grande passion. Madame la Mere at 
 present " 
 
 Christina drew near to the card-table, and, 
 lolling upon it with her usual indifference, began 
 to watch the progress of the game, which was now 
 resumed. Suddenly she snatched up the Queen's
 
 222 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 hand, and, holding it by the wrist, let the light 
 fall upon it, as if it had been a toy she wished to 
 examine. " Ah, mon Dieu! how perfect ! Talk 
 of the works of art as the standard of ideal beauty 
 — look at this work of nature. I consider my 
 voyage from Rome amply repaid by the sight of 
 the most lovely object in the world. In my country 
 they would say you had the hand of a water-sprite 
 — white as the earliest snow. And you have been 
 gathering roses, I see," — turning the little palm, 
 so that the delicate pink inside became visible. 
 
 " Flatterer ! " exclaimed the Queen, and hold- 
 ing up the said hand in a menacing attitude, but 
 with no appearance of displeasure. 
 
 Christina snatched both hands, kissed them, 
 and, without further farewell, walked out of the 
 room, half-singing Scarron's celebrated lines : 
 
 " Elle avoit au bout de ses manches 
 Une paire de mains si blanches, 
 Que j'eu voudrois etre soufflete." 
 
 She left her character behind her, — character 
 which usually has the fate of King Pelias, 
 namely, that of being torn to pieces by its dearest 
 friends. The Swedish Queen, however, escaped 
 wonderfully well. She had outraged every rule 
 of the court, mocked their proprieties, and in-
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 223 
 
 fringed their decorums ; yet they talked of her 
 genius, and called her la Heine philosophique. 
 Well — audacity, oddity, and flattery, are the 
 three graces which make their way in modern 
 society !
 
 224 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Si vous eussiez vecu du temps de Gabrielle 
 Je ne sais pas ce qu'on eut dit de vous, 
 Mais on n'aurait point parle d'elle." 
 
 Voltaire. 
 
 The next morning Francesca received a letter 
 from Guido, the first she had ever possessed. Even 
 in our time, when they are so many in number — 
 things of morning, noon, and night occurrence — 
 a letter is a delight. We never hear the postman's 
 knock without a vague sort of hope that it is for 
 us. A letter, too, is one of the few mysteries that 
 yet remain — a small and a transitory one, but still 
 a mystery, though but of a moment. We have 
 to open it. If these are a pleasure even now, what 
 must they have been when an epistle was an event 
 in a life, and when rarely any but a beloved hand 
 traced the characters ? 
 
 " I have such a happiness in store for you," 
 said Madame de Mercoeur ; " now do guess." 
 
 " Guido ! — what have you to tell me of him?"
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 225 
 
 " Ah, now, how came you to think of him at 
 once ? But I have not the heart to disappoint 
 those eager eyes — so take it ;" and from a packet 
 by her pillow she took the letter and gave it to her. 
 
 Francesca felt choked — the tears rose — she 
 tried to thank the Duchesse, hut her voice was 
 gone ; she kissed her, by way of gratitude, and 
 left the room — she could not bear to read the 
 letter but by herself. Shutting herself in, she 
 opened the scroll, and read it hastily to the end 
 — then began it over again, but slowly this time, 
 as if she feared to lose a word. Again she com- 
 menced it, but stopped suddenly ; and the tears, 
 which had hitherto only stood in her eyes, now 
 dropped thick and fast upon the paper. There 
 was something unsatisfactory in its contents — they 
 were too brief and too abrupt ; Guido said nothing 
 of his own health, or his own feelings — and what 
 did his sister care for else? — what to her were the 
 Duke, the Duchess, or even Modena itself? nay, 
 she felt very disrespectfully towards the Madonna, 
 which he described as divine. 
 
 " How very unkind!" exclaimed she; " he 
 knows how anxious I am about him, and he tells 
 me nothing — he may be ill or well for aught he says 
 about it." She turned the paper over to see if any 
 little corner had escaped her notice, but she had 
 l2
 
 226 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 read it far too carefully. " How differently I 
 should have written to him ! and yet, poor Guido, 
 I fear he is unwell — hurried evidently, and he 
 will have the more to say when we meet 5" and 
 once more she read the paragraph mentioning his 
 speedy return. 
 
 Francesca's was a grievance of which most of 
 her sex have to complain ; a man's letter is always 
 the most unsatisfactory thing in the world. There 
 are none of those minute details which are such a 
 solace to feminine anxiety ; the mere fact of writ- 
 ing, always seems sufficient to content a mascu- 
 line conscience. Guido, therefore, was guilty of 
 no uncommon failing ; and could Francesca have 
 looked into the heart whose emotions were so ill 
 depicted on that brief scroll, she would have seen 
 how tender was the affection which clung to 
 her image, as the only object beloved — the one 
 light of a dreaming and melancholy existence. 
 But for her sake, he would not have returned to 
 France ; for his absence had made his own country 
 seem lovelier than ever. His earlier visions re- 
 turned upon him ; his despondency, which, amid 
 realities, had become embittered by mortifications, 
 here took the tone of poetry, and but shewed it- 
 self in the deeper sense with which he lingered 
 beside the ruined temple, or gathered the wild
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 227 
 
 flowers, and took a fanciful pleasure in seeing them 
 wither. 
 
 The imagination shuns to reveal its workings, 
 unless it can clothe them in some lovely and 
 palpable shape, and create into existence the high 
 romance, the mournful song, the animated canvass, 
 or the carved marble ; pride then comes to the aid 
 of the gifted one, and says, " Lo ! these are the 
 fruits of those hours the busier worldlings deem 
 given but to idle fantasies !" But Guido knew that 
 his summer idlesse had been idlesse indeed. He 
 expected so much from himself, that he believed 
 Francesca must expect something too — and he had 
 nothing to tell her ; and this inward consciousness 
 she so little suspected, contributed much towards 
 the constrained tone of the letter. 
 
 Gradually it gave its possessor more pleasure. 
 Francesca smiled at what she now termed unrea- 
 sonable sensitiveness, and began to reckon how 
 long it must be before her brother's return. More- 
 over, the very mention of Italy brought to her all 
 the most cheerful recollections of her childhood. 
 She recalled the old hall, with its storied frescoes — 
 the woods, where so many mornings had passed so 
 happily away — the little river, where they used 
 to launch their light boats, made of the green 
 rushes which grew beside ; she recalled the blithe
 
 228 FRANCESCA CARRARA." 
 
 chirp of the cicala in the fragrant grass — arid the 
 gleam of the fire-flies, glittering by twilight amid 
 the boughs of the myrtle. l< Ah!" exclaimed 
 she, " we will soon return thither, and be happy 
 again ! " 
 
 Francesca forgot that she must take back with 
 her an altered heart. Her hand fell by chance on 
 her lute, which lay near — it gave forth a sweet 
 but hollow sound, as if the wind had swept over 
 it, and, almost unconsciously, her fingers ran over 
 the notes of an old familiar air ; she started, for it 
 seemed almost like a reproach, it had been such a 
 favourite of Evelyn's. The recollection at once 
 dissipated her pleasant reverie : " Alas ! " she ex- 
 claimed, " is it he or I that is changed ? " 
 
 Without waiting to decide, she suddenly re- 
 membered that Madame de Mercceur would marvel 
 at her long absence, and hastened to join her. 
 She was risen, and seated before her glass, while 
 her woman was arranging her long fair hair. 
 The Chevalier de Joinville leant opposite ; Evelyn, 
 with a true Englishman's habit, was fastening and 
 unfastening a little enamelled box, which he had 
 taken up under plea of admiring her portrait on 
 the lid ; and, seated on the arm of a fauteuil, 
 instead of the chair itself, was the Queen of 
 Sweden, talking with great rapidity.
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 229 
 
 " Well, finding remonstrance vain, and tired 
 with urging that to-day was a very particular fast 
 indeed, the King endeavoured to snatch from 
 Monsieur the atrocious bouillon, with its still 
 more atrocious meat. The Duke of Anjou resisted; 
 but finding his brother strongest, fairly flung plate 
 and all into his face. Our pious Louis laughed at 
 first ; but Mademoiselle Mancini making it matter 
 of personal dignity, he grew angry, and said, 
 1 That but for the Queen's presence, he would have 
 turned Monsieur out of the room. Meat and temper 
 being lost alike, la bonne Maman interfered, but 
 in vain ; and the Duke sought bis chamber in high 
 dudgeon. Ah, the blessings of Providence will 
 certainly rest upon a monarch so pious." 
 
 The rest of the party were too prudent to com- 
 ment ; and Madame de Mercoeur asked Christina 
 if Mademoiselle was as beautiful as she was allowed 
 to be? 
 
 f Even in exile?' 7 said Evelyn. 
 "Superb!" replied the Queen, after having 
 given the speaker a look, as much as to say, ' I 
 take your sarcasm;' " tall — fair, — a fitting Bel- 
 lona for the Prince of Conde. The comedy of the 
 League ought to have ended in their marriage. 
 Vraiment, Mademoiselle has exerted herself for an 
 establishment. She was devout for the Emperor.
 
 230 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 I heard that she left off* powder, patches, and 
 rouge, for a month when his third consort died, 
 and he grew religious — whether out of grief or 
 gratitude, I never heard ; then she grew factious, 
 for the sake of your own King, and thought to 
 strew the way to the altar with straws* instead of 
 flowers. I applaud her spirit in fighting for a 
 crown." 
 
 " I marvel," interrupted De Joinville, " at 
 such a sentiment from your Majesty." 
 
 " Poor child !" replied she, bursting into one 
 of her abrupt, but musical laughs, " where can 
 you have lived, not to know we never care for 
 what we have ? — But to return to Mademoiselle ; 
 her pride unabated, though I heard that your 
 uncle declared, that the shot she fired from the 
 Bastile killed her husband. Pray did he say so?" 
 
 " Really, your Majesty," answered Madame 
 de Mercoeur, " seems too well acquainted with all 
 our affairs to ask any questions of me." 
 
 " Especially such as you do not deem fitting 
 to answer. Pitying Mademoiselle's seclusion, I 
 did my best to entertain her, and, by way of news, 
 told her that her former lover, the King of Eng- 
 land, was talked of for Mademoiselle de Longue- 
 
 * Straws were the badge of the Leaguers.
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 231 
 
 ville. Diable ! but her eyes flashed fire. ' I owe 
 it, Madame, to myself to disbelieve the story ; con- 
 vinced that no one, who had ever once raised his 
 hopes ff> myself, could stoop to Mademoiselle de 
 Longueville.' " 
 
 " Now, by St. George!" interrupted Evelyn, 
 " the daughter of Henri Quatre was ready 
 enough to marry his grandfather ; and, let the 
 present madness of our islands pass away, and the 
 daughter of the Duke of Orleans may repent her 
 disdain, or rather her miscalculation. " 
 
 " Circumstances are every thing," rocking 
 her heavy seat backwards and forwards. 
 
 " I have been busy this morning," continued 
 De Joinville, " consoling beauty in distress and in 
 debt. Madame de Chatillion and Fouquet have 
 quarrelled ! " 
 
 " What! he, the most devoted and most des- 
 pairing of lovers, who talked in the same breath 
 of her charms and her cruelty — who accumulated 
 wealth but to lavish it on an idol ! " exclaimed 
 Madame de Mercoeur ; H why, at the last fair, taste 
 was of no use, for every thing pretty had been 
 selected beforehand. They said, Madame first went 
 round to choose, and l'Abbe followed to buy; and 
 the various presents were sent in as mysteriously 
 as fairy gifts."
 
 232 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 " But the Abbe is an inglorious successor," 
 remarked Christina, " to the Prince of Conde, to 
 your English King — both of whom wore the chains 
 of this triumphant beauty." , 
 
 " Circumstances are every thing, as your Ma- 
 jesty has just observed," replied De Joinville ; " the 
 Conde is absent, the King poor ; Fouquet is pre- 
 sent, and rich, and, what is more, generous. Be- 
 sides, he helped her out of one of those adventures 
 in which her folly — she calls it ambition — is per- 
 petually involving her. Madame de Chatillion 
 was threatened with a lettre de cachet, for her sus- 
 pected correspondence with Monsieur le Prince, 
 and Monsieur l'Abbe took upon himself the re- 
 sponsibility, answered for her loyalty, and made 
 his house her prison or her palace." 
 
 M I never saw a house more splendidly fur- 
 nished," observed Christina; " he gave me a col- 
 lation ; and there I saw Madame de Chatillion 
 glittering with gems ; her diamond earrings alone 
 might have lighted up the room. She shewed me 
 her portrait, written by herself. I only remember 
 what she states of her mouth, which, she says, was 
 not only beautiful and red, but had a thousand little 
 natural airs and graces not to be found in any other 
 mouth. Oh, I must not forget her figure, which, 
 she assured the reader, was the best- made and
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 233 
 
 the finest that could be seen : nothing could be 
 more regular, more graceful, or more easy. Cer- 
 tainly it is pleasant to appreciate one's own per- 
 fections ; it puts one on good terms with others, 
 by first being on such with ourselves. But now for 
 the quarrel. " 
 
 " Madame de Chatillion," answered the Che- 
 valier, " in the first halcyon hours which her 
 smiles created for l'Abbe, had resigned to him 
 some letters of M. le Prince; she also, in due 
 time, favoured him with divers addressed to him- 
 self. These precious epistles were placed in cer- 
 tain caskets, and treasured like — really, my ex- 
 perience affords me nothing sufficiently precious 
 for a likeness. One fine morning, when l'Abbe 
 Fouquet was in the country, she goes to his house ; 
 the servants, knowing her authority was absolute 
 with their master, supposed it was to be equally 
 absolute with themselves, and admitted her to his 
 cabinet. Once there, she makes good use of her 
 time, and retakes all those said letters ; con- 
 sidering, perhaps, that what is said may be unsaid, 
 but what is written remains in evidence against 
 you." 
 
 " Love-letters are very foolish things," muttered 
 Christina. 
 
 " L'Abbe returned," pursued the Chevalier,
 
 234 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 " and at once missed his caskets, and next heard 
 of his visitor. In despair, he rushed into Madame 
 de Chatill ion's presence, and said every thing that 
 could be said by a man very angry and very much 
 in love. Words were followed by actions : he 
 vented his rage on the magnificent mirrors, till 
 the floor was covered with shattered glass, every 
 fragment adding to his misery, by another re- 
 flection of Madame's beautiful face. He went 
 away at last, threatening to send and take away 
 furniture, plate, and jewels, — all being gifts of 
 his own. Madame de Chatillion acted upon the 
 threat, took down hangings, &c, and removed to 
 Madame de St. Chaumont. This is the tragedy : 
 — now for the farce. 
 
 " While staying with Madame de Porcinne, in 
 the Convent de la Misericorde, Madame de Chatil- 
 lion was amazed by the appearance of 1' Abbe and 
 his mother in the parlour." 
 
 " Ah," cried Christina, " I remember the old 
 lady — simple, kind-hearted, and evidently quite 
 astonished by every body and every thing.' ' 
 
 u c Wh a tj' said la belle dedaigneuse, * do I see ? 
 — dares this man appear in my presence ?' The 
 Abbe's answer was couched in the most approved 
 terms of love and remorse, — his despair quite 
 touched the hearts of the three old ladies. ' Re-
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 235 
 
 member,' remonstrated Madame de Porcinne to 
 the angry beauty, ' that you are a Christian, and 
 that you should lay down all your animosities at 
 the foot of the cross/ ' In the name of Jesus!' 
 exclaimed the Provencal Mere de la Misericorde, 
 for even her feelings were affected, ' look upon 
 him with pity.' The poor old mother next took 
 up the petition : ' Madame, I implore, on my 
 knees, that my son may just haunt your footsteps.' 
 Neither l'Abbe nor his three old women succeeded 
 in softening the angry goddess. It is, however, 
 rumoured, that certain offerings at her shrine 
 have since had considerable effect, and he is now 
 beginning to hope that, perhaps, he may again be 
 suffered in Madame de Chatillion's sight." 
 
 Other visitors entering interrupted the thread 
 of the discourse ; and Evelyn took the opportunity 
 of approaching Francesca, who was seated in a 
 window, a little behind the others. " I con- 
 gratulate you," said he. 
 
 " Ah, I am so happy!" was her reply, suppos- 
 ing that he alluded to Guido's letter, and without 
 giving herself time to consider, that it was impos- 
 sible for him to know of its arrival. 
 
 " You are not aware of the effect you pro- 
 duced!"
 
 236 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 " What do you mean ?" ejaculated his listener, 
 in the utmost astonishment. 
 
 " Nonsense ! Do you think," replied he, " that 
 I have been the last to hear of the beautiful Italian 
 and her lute ? " 
 
 " I thought," said Francesca, " you were speak- 
 ing of the letter I have this morning had from 
 Guido." 
 
 " Pshaw ! — what is a letter compared to your 
 last night's triumph ? Joinville told me you 
 had never looked more lovely, and that Louis 
 never moved his eyes from your face the whole 
 time you were singing." 
 
 " Very pleasant to be stared out of coun- 
 tenance!" returned she, colouring. 
 
 *f I would have Mademoiselle Mancini look to 
 her chains," said Evelyn. 
 
 Francesca remained silent, from vexation and 
 anger ; and he continued : — 
 
 " But I must say farewell now. Lord Craven 
 is to ride by the wood ; and, even if it should be 
 observed, our meeting will seem accidental, — I 
 wish for no appearance of connexion with his 
 party, for that would end all my plans. Ah ! my 
 fair Italian; what with their anxiety and your 
 cruelty, I have enough on my hands ! "
 
 FRA^ T CESCA CARRARA. § 237 
 
 Francesca saw him depart with that profound 
 depression of spirits which usually followed their 
 interviews. She was vexed at the want of sym- 
 pathy which he shewed with her joy or her affec- 
 tion, — he had not even thought of inquiring after 
 Guido. It seemed so very unkind ! Then she was 
 mortified at his ready allusion to the admiration 
 she had excited, — surely he ought not to have 
 been pleased by it. A lover owes his mistress 
 a little jealousy. Indifference to the homage she 
 receives may shew reliance, but it is a bad com- 
 pliment. She was roused from her reverie by a 
 hand laid upon her arm ; she looked up, and saw 
 the Swedish Queen. 
 
 " A cold look at parting, and a sad brow after- 
 wards, are bad signs. You know the old fable — 
 there is little profit in leaving the substance for 
 the shadow." 
 
 Francesca only looked her surprise. 
 " Some shadows," continued Christina, " are 
 enough to dazzle such young sight as yours ; yet 
 I warn you of trusting to them." 
 
 " I have little," said Francesca, and her eyes 
 filled with tears ; for there was a kindness in the 
 speaker's voice, which, in her present depressed 
 mood, touched her powerfully, " to trust in, save 
 Heaven ! "
 
 238 . FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 " Poor child!" returned her companion ; " why 
 did you leave Italy ? " 
 
 " Ah, you may well warn me of trusting to 
 shadows! why, indeed, did we leave it?" 
 
 " Because there was a lover in the case. Well, 
 well; he is a handsome and noble-looking cavalier. 
 Do not quarrel with him again, because he is 
 jealous that others beside himself think you have 
 a bright blush and a sweet voice." 
 
 Giving her a good-humoured smile, Christina 
 moved away, to Francesca's great relief. What 
 could she say to so complete a misconception? 
 The chamber was by this time cleared of visitors, 
 and she was about to thank Madame de Mercceur 
 for her letter, when Mademoiselle Mancini en- 
 tered. Without saluting either, she flung herself 
 into a chair, and exclaimed, " I suppose, Hen- 
 riette, you are well aware of the fine marriage 
 about to take place?" 
 
 " I know of none," answered Madame de Mer- 
 cceur. 
 
 " Oh, then my uncle has kept you equally in 
 the dark ; but the Queen this morning congra- 
 tulated me — me, forsooth! — of the approaching 
 alliance between Mademoiselle Martinozzi and the 
 Prince de Conti. She shewed me the pearls she 
 meant for a wedding present."
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 239 
 
 " A splendid match for our pretty cousin ! Well, 
 she is a sweet creature ; and I rejoice in her good 
 fortune." 
 
 " You do?" exclaimed Marie, her cheek flush- 
 ing with anger ; " very kind, very sisterly, in- 
 deed ! No consideration for my interest !" 
 
 " How does it affect you, but advantageously? 
 — such an alliance is an honour to our whole 
 family." 
 
 " Surely I am as well fitted to be Princesse de 
 Conti as my cousin ? " 
 
 " And the gentleman's choice is to go for noth- 
 ing ? You remember the Prince always greatly 
 admired Mademoiselle Martinozzi." 
 
 " The Cardinal Jias taught you your lesson : — 
 I meet with the same unkindness from you all; 
 but if he does not attend to my interest from 
 affection, he may from weariness of my com- 
 plaints, and of them I promise him the full 
 benefit." 
 
 " For shame, Marie! — think how very kind 
 he is to us ! " 
 
 11 To you, I presume, you mean." 
 " For pity's sake, let us drop the subject ; and 
 do tell us all about the quarrel between the King 
 and the Duke of Anjou." 
 
 " I have nothing to tell, but that it is ridicu-
 
 240 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 lous for Louis to be so absolutely governed by his 
 mother as he is. He hears with her ears, and 
 sees with her eyes — I suppose, he will soon eat 
 with her mouth !" 
 
 " Do not look so angry, Marie ; it quite spoils 
 your pretty face." 
 
 " I do not care how I look; and if you have 
 nothing more pleasant to say, I wish you good 
 morning." 
 
 " Nay, now, don't run away ; we shall find 
 something more agreeable, if you will but have 
 patience." 
 
 " Indeed, I should not have come in at all, 
 but that the Queen requested I would give the 
 plan of the masque to la Sjgnora Carrara, and 
 remind her of her engagement." So saying, she 
 threw the roll of paper on the table, and left the 
 room. 
 
 " I am so delighted at the fancy which the 
 Queen has taken to my little Francesca," said the 
 Duchesse, kindly. " You must look your best at 
 the masque. There is an old picture of my uncle's, 
 whose costume will suit you exactly — we will go 
 and study it." 
 
 Madame de Mercoeur was one of those who 
 are happy in their amiability. Gentle and kind, 
 rather than acute or strong in feeling, she relied
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 241 
 
 upon the affection she inspired, because she had 
 no exaggerated estimate within to whose test she 
 applied it ; the expression she witnessed came up 
 to her expectation. Hence she was confiding and 
 unsuspicious. She could comprehend the under 
 motives of an action, when explained ; but she 
 would never have penetrated them without such 
 explanation. This extreme goodness and sim- 
 plicity of character made Henriette her uncle's 
 favourite. None but worldly people appreciate 
 simplicity. He felt safe with her, and he believed 
 in her attachment, because he saw that it was 
 natural to her to love. 
 
 Liking Francesca warmly herself, it seemed the 
 most natural thing in the world that others should 
 like her too. It never would have entered into her 
 head, that the Queen hourly saw, with more and 
 more suspicion, her sister's influence increasing, 
 and that she calculated on Francesca's attraction as 
 a passing lure to Louis. The friendless Italian was a 
 much safer person than the niece of the all-power- 
 ful minister, whose ambition would not stop but 
 at the throne. Francesca might be allowed to 
 detach him from Mademoiselle Mancini, and could 
 then be easily flung aside. The King's devotion 
 was the next engine to be brought into play ; and 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 242 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 the Queen felt sure that his conscience was still 
 sufficiently tender for alarm. 
 
 But Marie was too dangerous ; for though the 
 very lilies of France would blush at such an 
 alliance, still it was possible ; and Anne of Austria 
 was too false herself to place any reliance on the 
 Cardinal's professions, that he would be the first 
 to oppose such a union. The temptation of the 
 crown for his niece seemed too great to be resisted ; 
 and the Queen thought it but prudent to diminish 
 it as much as she could. Francesca's beauty caught 
 her attention ; it could not be better employed than 
 in diverting Louis from Mademoiselle Mancini ; 
 and that once effected, there was a convent ready 
 for her, and her own authority and his confessor 
 for the King. Marie, too, would be piqued by the 
 prospect of her cousin's brilliant marriage ; and 
 let her hopes be once turned towards a similar 
 establishment, and no unnecessary delay should 
 ensue in finding one for her. 
 
 There is a story somewhere of an eastern king, 
 whose delight it was to assemble his subjects in a 
 glittering hall, where they were crowned with 
 roses, and drank the purple wine from cups of 
 gold ; but beneath them were caverns and chains. 
 Suddenly, the floor gave way, and the guests were
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 243 
 
 precipitated into the darkness below, there to 
 meditate at leisure over their former blind enjoy- 
 ment. Human life is just such a tyrant — the 
 pleasure hides the pain ; but not long — soon, very 
 soon, are we precipitated into the depths of expe- 
 rience and regret !
 
 244 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 When factious Rage to cruel exile drove 
 The Queen of Beauty and the court of Love, 
 The Muses droop'd, with their forsaken arts, 
 And the sad Cupids hroke their useless darts." 
 
 Dryden. 
 
 Courted, flattered, and caressed, Francesca could 
 scarcely believe such a change could have so ra- 
 pidly taken place, and on what, moreover, appeared 
 such slight grounds. Though more thoughtful 
 than Madame de Mercosur, yet it asked far more 
 knowledge of society — that wilderness of small 
 intricacies — for her to penetrate into the motives 
 of those who seemed so suddenly struck with her 
 fascination ; hut she was too clear-headed to be 
 deceived, and set it all down under one general 
 belief in caprice. Still, it was pleasant to have 
 a little circle gather round her, where before she 
 had sat in solitary silence ; it was pleasant, also, 
 to have half a dozen cavaliers for the dance, of 
 which she had hitherto been little more than a 
 spectator ; and it was not very disagreeable to
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 245 
 
 hear how beautiful she was, from even the elderly- 
 dames of the court. 
 
 The gardens around Compiegne were very ex- 
 tensive ; and sunshine and the open air seemed to 
 give something of their own freedom to the gaiety 
 which prevailed. 
 
 Most days, Francesca was called on to sing to 
 the Queen, and, by some chance or other, Louis 
 was constantly present, and often entered into con- 
 versation with her. He talked to her of Rome, 
 and appeared to take great pleasure in exciting 
 her enthusiasm, which dwelt delightedly on the 
 by-gone glories of the Eternal City; or took a 
 more touching tone, when painting its present 
 desolation, — yet lovely, and even sacred, in its 
 ruins. It was very new to him, and herein was 
 the secret charm. 
 
 Mademoiselle Mancini pouted, and revenged 
 herself by an affectation of extreme intimacy ; 
 whispering to him even in his mother's presence, 
 who now scarcely concealed her displeasure ; and 
 by tormenting her uncle with perpetual reproaches 
 for what she termed his neglect of her interests. 
 An old Italian exclaimed one day, as she left 
 Mazarin's chamber, " I hear, Signora, many com- 
 plaints of my master ; but, truly, you avenge 
 them all."
 
 246 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 In the mean time, Francesca's favour with the 
 Queen apparently increased daily ; she was even 
 named to accompany her en caleche, with Madame 
 de Mercceur and Christina, the day previous to 
 the departure of the latter. 
 
 The morning was delicious, and, arrived at a 
 sheltered portion of the gardens, they alighted for 
 the sake of walking. In the first avenue which 
 they entered, they met Voiture. Voiture belonged 
 to a race of poets essentially French, who sacrificed 
 to the graces instead of the muses ; to whom 
 Cupid, with his wings and arrows, was the ideal 
 of love, and whose art of poetry consisted in 
 epigram, tournure, readiness, and facility. Made- 
 moiselle expressed the spirit of the times, when 
 she said, "Trifles weary me, excepting verses, and 
 I am fond of them." 
 
 But the passion which gives its deep and 
 melancholy tone to our English imaginative lite- 
 rature was unknown across the channel. Feeling 
 never got beyond sentiment ; and that bien arrange. 
 The heart's faith was but la galanterie — a term, 
 by the by, which our word gallantry does not 
 translate. Voiture carried this talent to perfec- 
 tion. His letters were charming — full of point 
 and flattery ; and his conversation sparkled with 
 bon-mots and compliments. The Queen beckoned
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 247 
 
 him to approach, and the whole party seated 
 themselves by a fountain, beneath the extended 
 boughs of a large old chestnut-tree. 
 
 " A scene from Bocaccio," said Christina; 
 " nothing wanting but the lovers." 
 
 " I should like," said Anne, " to know of what 
 M. Voiture is thinking, — he seems so lost in 
 meditation !" 
 
 " It is sometimes/' replied the poet, " danger- 
 ous to give utterance to one's thoughts ; I claim 
 full pardon for the presumption of mine." 
 
 " On one condition," said the Queen — " that 
 you give them expression." 
 
 Voiture smiled, and, fixing his eyes on the 
 shadow of the Queen in the water, repeated the 
 following verses : — 
 
 " Je pensais que la destinee, 
 Apres tant d'injustes malheurs, 
 Vous a justement couronnee 
 De gloire, d'eclat, et d'honneurs : 
 Mais que vous 6tiez plus heureuse, 
 Lorsque vous etiez autrefois, 
 Je ne veut pas dire amoureuse 
 La rime le veut toutefois. 
 
 " Je pensais que ce pauvre amour, 
 Qui toujours vous preta ses armes, 
 Est banni loin de votre cour, 
 Sans ses traits, son arc, ses charmes,
 
 248 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 Et ce que je puis profiter, 
 En passant pres de vous ma vie, 
 Si vous pouvez si maltraiter 
 Ceux qui vous ont se bien servie. 
 
 " Je pensais, car nous autres poetes 
 Nous pensons extravagamment, 
 Ce que dans l'humeur ou vous etes, 
 Vous feriez si dans ce moment 
 Vous avisiez en cette place 
 Venir le Due de Bokingham 1 
 Et lequel serait en disgrace 
 De lui ou du Pere Vincent V 
 
 " Have I exceeded my poetical license?" said 
 Voiture, dropping on one knee. 
 
 " Ah! the follies of youth are now as nothing 
 in my sight, God be praised!" said Anne ; " I 
 have long learnt to fix my wandering thoughts on 
 graver subjects than the vain flatteries in which 
 the young delight. Still, your verses are charm- 
 ing, and you must copy them for me." She ex- 
 tended her hand, which Voiture kissed with all 
 possible devotion. 
 
 " I do not often," replied he, " task my me- 
 mory with such trifles ; but your Majesty's com- 
 mands would impress the very air that passes on 
 my mind." 
 
 " I should like," interrupted Christina, " to 
 have seen the Duke of Buckingham ; there was
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 249 
 
 something picturesque and romantic about him, 
 infinitely to my taste ; — and was he so very hand- 
 some?" 
 
 u Very : but we are talking such nonsense!" 
 answered Anne ; not, however, with an air as if 
 the nonsense displeased her. 
 
 " I have heard," continued Christina, " that 
 it was quite a passion de Roman, and that the 
 war with England was entirely caused by Vamow* 
 de vos beaux yeux." 
 
 " Rather a desperate method of recommend- 
 ing himself to my favour." 
 
 " Ah ! women like to have desperate things 
 done on their account ; besides, people in love 
 never calculate on probabilities. I daresay, the 
 Duke dreamed of winning you, like an Amadis, 
 sword in hand." 
 
 " And, like most dreamers, woke, and found 
 out his mistake." 
 
 " Pardieu ! — it does not the least surprise me : 
 if people will be beautiful, they must take the con- 
 sequence. By the by, what trash the Queen of 
 England talked the other night, when she con- 
 tended, that no woman retained her beauty after 
 five-and-twenty. I am sure, in this kingdom, such 
 a speech is Use-majeste. But her fault brings its 
 own punishment, for she spoke feelingly. God 
 m 2
 
 250 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 knows! there is little vestige of the lovely Hen- 
 riette in her care-worn countenance." 
 
 Few persons flattered with greater audacity 
 than the ex-Queen of Sweden ; but it was amazing 
 how much the appearance of flattery was done 
 away with by her abrupt manner, and seeming 
 carelessness as to whether what she said was even 
 heard. But the discourse was interrupted by the 
 approach of a large party, who, as soon as they 
 perceived the Queen, advanced to pay their court. 
 Among these was Evelyn, who drew near to Fran- 
 cesca with an unusual degree of anxiety. 
 
 " Dearest Francesca," he exclaimed, as soon 
 as, by drawing her a little aside, the branches of 
 a flowering shrub somewhat concealed them, " I 
 think I may trust you, and will, therefore, as 
 hastily as possible, make my request. The English 
 Ambassador arrives here to-day, and it is of the 
 utmost consequence that no suspicion should be 
 entertained of my correspondence with Queen 
 Henriette, — all my present sources of information 
 would be at once closed. The visit is unexpected ; 
 and I dare not risk sending, still less dare I myself 
 communicate, any intelligence. Will you take 
 charge of a letter, and watch your opportunity for 
 giving it unperceived ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes," exclaimed Francesca ; " and T think
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 251 
 
 I could manage to do it this evening ; as, after the 
 play, there is a sort of fete at the Cardinal's." 
 
 " Good : the Queen will be sure to be there. " 
 
 " Where is the letter?" 
 
 " Not yet written ; but I will venture into the 
 theatre to-night. I will bring you a bouquet of 
 flowers — round them will be a note ; and be care- 
 ful to excite no supicion in giving it." 
 
 Francesca promised, and the Queen advancing 
 towards the caleche, hastily followed her. The 
 carriage drove off; though not till Anne had given 
 Voiture a most gracious smile, and bid him re- 
 member the verses.
 
 252 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 Crystal and myrrhine cups, embossed with gems 
 And studs of pearl." 
 
 Milton. 
 
 Francesca that evening awaited the appearance 
 of Evelyn with no little anxiety, which increased 
 on perceiving that she was quite hemmed in by 
 the quick-eyed Christina in front, the Duchesse 
 de Mercceur on one side, and, to her great sur- 
 prise, Louis took his place on the other, and, 
 regardless of the eagerness with which she was 
 watching the stage, drew her into conversation. 
 She could scarcely disguise her preoccupation. 
 Like most persons utterly unused to deception, 
 she could not imagine how it was to be managed ; 
 and her thoughts conjured up every probable 
 and improbable embarrassment that might occur. 
 The actors, too, diverted her attention, with all 
 the fascination their art ever exercises over the 
 unaccustomed ; by degrees her eyes fixed upon the
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 253 
 
 scene, and she became almost absorbed in the dis- 
 tress of the hero and heroine, who were in their 
 usual difficulties. Her inattention, however, rather 
 amused the King, though the charm with him 
 had lost its illusion from frequent repetition ; yet 
 it was something new to observe it in another. 
 The amusement would not have lasted very long, 
 but Christina, tired of what was going on, ad- 
 dressed herself to him, and satirised the play, 
 unmercifully, but entertainingly. 
 
 At this moment Mazarin entered, and Evelyn 
 was in his suite. It had been arranged that his 
 intended invitation should be given personally, as 
 if without premeditation, much ceremony being 
 thus avoided. During the time that the Cardinal 
 was paying his devoirs to the two Queens, Evelyn 
 remained behind, and gradually obtained the 
 vacant place between Francesca and Madame de 
 Mercoeur; the latter, to whom he more particu- 
 larly addressed himself, observed, " What very 
 fragrant flowers I" With an air of gallantry, he 
 anxiously selected some of the rarest, and pre- 
 sented them to her ; then turning, as if with a 
 sudden thought, to Francesca, offered her the 
 remainder. She immediately perceived the note 
 around the stems ; and now, while all were en- 
 gaged with the Cardinal, concealed it with an
 
 254 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 ease that astonished herself. Before, however, she 
 could look round, Evelyn had disappeared. 
 
 Soon after, Louis resumed his place; and ob- 
 serving the flowers, asked Francesca for one of 
 the roses, which she immediately gave, when, 
 much more to her dismay than to her gratifica- 
 tion, he kissed it, and placed it concealed in his 
 bosom, adding, in a low voice, " It is too precious 
 to be worn openly." Then, as if he were himself 
 confused by what he had said, turned hastily, and 
 began talking to Madame de Mercoeur. 
 
 From the theatre they proceeded to the Cardi- 
 nal's, where many of the guests were already 
 assembled ; among others, the Queen of England 
 and her daughter. There was something in the 
 scene that jarred upon Francesca's previous sym- 
 pathy. She, whose councils had done much to- 
 wards conducting her husband to the scaffold on 
 which he perished — whose rank was a mockery, 
 making her present state of dependence more 
 bitter — an exile in her own country, whose very 
 dreams must be haunted by death and danger; 
 yet there she was seated, the centre of a frivolous 
 circle, and of flatteries whose worthlessness she 
 of all there must best have known Ah ! mis- 
 fortune ought to have sufficient self-respect for 
 solitude.
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 255 
 
 For the first time it struck Francesca how ex- 
 ceedingly difficult she would find it to deliver the 
 note with which she had been intrusted. The three 
 Queens were seated at the upper end of the room, 
 surrounded by their attendants, with every eye 
 fixed upon their least movement : what excuse had 
 she for approaching Henriette? — she had never 
 been presented to her, and it was most probable 
 the whole length of the chamber would be between 
 them during the evening. But while she was in- 
 creasing the difficulty by thinking about it, Madame 
 de Mercoeur, passing her hand through her arm, 
 said, " You must come with me, Francesca ; I 
 want you to see the old portrait I was telling you 
 about the other morning." 
 
 So saying, she led her into a small apartment 
 adjoining. There were three small rooms, which 
 ran one into another. They were alike hung with 
 gray cloth, covered with pictures, while all the light 
 came from above. The picture before which they 
 paused represented one of those ruined fountains 
 so common to Italy. Francesca gazed upon it as 
 if it had been an old friend : many a time, beside 
 such a one, with its carved and broken marble, 
 had she wreathed the acanthus that hung around 
 it, the green and trailing foliage so profuse in the 
 South, into shapes even more fanciful than those
 
 256 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 which once suggested the Corinthian capital. The 
 clear blue sky, and the towers of a church in the 
 distance — the sunny foreground — brought the old- 
 accustomed scenes so forcibly to her mind, that 
 for a moment she had forgotten all but themselves. 
 Madame de Mercoeur, though with a kind re- 
 membrance of childish habits and haunts, threw 
 around them none of that melancholy which is 
 their poetry, and soon drew her companion's at- 
 tention to the figure. It was a female in the 
 prime of life, with the colours and rounded form 
 of youth, but with the expression of a more ad- 
 vanced period ; it was wonderful how the painter 
 had contrived to give such determination, nay, 
 even severity, to the brow, and yet retain such 
 sweetness in the lower part of the face. But the 
 mouth was that of a child — so small, so fresh, 
 so red, and parted with a smile so glad, so inno- 
 cent, and extending its influences to the dimpled 
 cheek and little ivory chin. Yet the nose was 
 high and Roman; and the eyes, which looked 
 boldly out, seemed to flash fire. The dress was 
 singular; a green velvet boddice, which fitted 
 tight, and was met at the throat by a chain, or 
 rather collar, of gold. A crimson scarf was round 
 the waist, in which was placed a poniard, whose 
 sheath and handle glittered with gems. The large
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 257 
 
 loose sleeve was lined with fur, and on each arm 
 was a bracelet. On the one, a plain massive band 
 which matched the collar ; on the other, a serpent ; 
 the tail reached nearly to the elbow, and the 
 head rose a little from the wrist ; the tongue of a 
 ruby, the eyes of large brilliants. The costume 
 was finished by a petticoat of broad alternate stripes 
 of green and crimson, with a deep gold lace. The 
 hair was plaited with bullion and red riband, and 
 then wound round the head, something after the 
 fashion of a turban, save that it entirely displayed 
 the forehead. 
 
 " It is too fierce," said Louis, who, together 
 with Mazarin, had entered the gallery. 
 
 " Such was the original," replied Mazarin; 
 " she was the wife of a celebrated bandit in the 
 Abruzzi ; and this likeness was its artist's ransom. 
 It was found in the old castle, which had long 
 been the haunt of a most desperate band. Tradi- 
 tion says she died by her husband's side, fighting 
 to the last." 
 
 " I cannot approve this costume for la Signora 
 Carrara : Amazons are out of keeping in a fete. 
 Now, I much prefer the one to the left." 
 
 They passed on to the picture which he named ; 
 singular enough, there was a resemblance in the 
 features, and yet no likeness between the two.
 
 258 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 it was as if to shew the infinite difference that 
 could be wrought by expression. The background 
 of the painting was a crimson velvet curtain, which 
 threw out the drapery of the figure. It was 
 dressed in white satin, unmixed with any colour ; 
 the boddice was laced with pearls, but the fair 
 neck and arms wore no ornament ; and the" pro- 
 fusion of raven black hair hung down in large 
 loose curls, without any visible confinement. The 
 large, soft dark eyes were raised, but seemed 
 rather engrossed by their own feelings — (thoughts 
 are scarcely tender enough for such a look) — than 
 fixed upon any surrounding object. 
 
 " It is a lovely portrait; Francesca will, of 
 course, adopt a dress honoured by your Grace's 
 approval." 
 
 Louis looked at Francesca, who, colouring a 
 little, bent her head in silence. 
 
 " I have lately," remarked Mazarin, " added 
 to my collection of royal likenesses ; this is a very 
 scarce one of Francis the First." 
 
 " I am proud of my ancestor," exclaimed 
 Louis, gazing on it with an animation which 
 suspended every thing else for the moment ; "I 
 envy the glory which yet lingers round the name 
 of France's most chivalrous king. Ah! but for 
 my mother's fearful love, I should now be at the
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 259 
 
 head of my army. I envy Turenne every victory 
 he gains in my cause." 
 
 " It is a grave fault," answered the Cardinal, 
 M for a King thus rashly to expose his life. Think 
 of all the evils France has suffered from the im- 
 prudent valour of her monarch." 
 
 " Imprudent, if you please," rejoined Louis; 
 " but this very imprudence has ranked him among 
 our greatest heroes." And saying this, he passed 
 on, as if unwilling to continue the conversation. 
 
 " Ay," exclaimed Mazarin, looking after him 
 with an expression of almost affection, " he has 
 in him stuff enough for four kings, and an honest 
 man beside." 
 
 A landscape, with a palace in the distance, 
 somewhat resembling that of La Franchini's, at- 
 tracted Francesca ; and while she was observing 
 a scene which seemed so familiar to her, she 
 dropped the flowers which Evelyn had given her. 
 Before she even perceived her loss, the King had 
 picked them up, and was about to give them to 
 her, when he perceived the note, and also observed 
 that the seal was yet unbroken. 
 
 " Mademoiselle has not had time to read a 
 letter so surrounded by sweets — pray, use no 
 ceremony."
 
 260 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 " Good Heaven !" exclaimed Francesca, — " if 
 I had lost it!" 
 
 " Is it, then, so very precious?" asked Louis. 
 
 Francesca was too young not to feel ashamed 
 of its being supposed that she could be the possessor 
 of a love-letter, and answered unguardedly, " Oh, 
 I am only its bearer ; it is not for me." 
 
 " Can I save you the trouble?" asked the 
 King, smiling ; partly from that general gallantry, 
 which was his universal tone, and a little, it must 
 be owned, from curiosity. 
 
 " Holy Madonna!" ejaculated Francesca; " if 
 your Majesty would but take charge of it ! I see 
 clearly that it is impossible I shall be able to 
 deliver it." 
 
 Louis, amused by the ignorance of form which 
 so readily took him at his word, assured her he 
 would give it. " But to whom? for the note has 
 no address ! " 
 
 " To the English Queen." 
 
 " Louis looked surprised ; but having pro- 
 mised, his courtesy was too perfect to allow of 
 either hesitation or question. 
 
 Further conversation was interrupted by the 
 approach of the Cardinal and his niece, who 
 asked the King to adjourn to a neighbouring gal-
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 261 
 
 lery, " Where," said he, " you will witness the 
 perfect enthusiasm of my gallantry." 
 
 They went forward; but Madame de Mercosur 
 lingered a moment behind. " I do not know how 
 you will manage your hair," said she, looking at 
 the picture ; " though, Heaven knows ! we found 
 it easy enough some three or four years ago." 
 
 " I like the other best," answered Francesca, 
 who had a sort of unconscious reluctance to allow 
 her costume to be thus Louis's especial choice. 
 
 " That is quite out of the question," rejoined the 
 Duchesse ; " have you not lived here long enough 
 to know, that a royal wish is a command ? " 
 
 They then proceeded towards the gallery, 
 which they found already partially filled, and the 
 news of its contents soon attracted thither the rest 
 of the company. It contained every species of 
 ornament: toys, china, shawls, lace, &c. — a very 
 fair, whose temptations were selected with all pos- 
 sible attention to taste, and an equal disregard to 
 expense. On one table were Indian cabinets, 
 wrought in ivory, ebony, tortoise-shell, and amber ; 
 on another were the exquisite porcelain of Dresden 
 and Sevres; a third was heaped with gold and 
 silver stuffs ; a fourth, with the colours of the 
 rainbow, in embroidered taffetas ; close beside 
 were perfumed gloves, and the rich ribands of
 
 262 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 Lyons, and velvets from Genoa fit for the mantle 
 of a Queen. 
 
 Other stands were covered with the " cunning 
 devices" of the goldsmith and the jeweller. There 
 were diamonds colourless with excess of light; 
 rubies, rich as the sunset of their native clime ; 
 the purple amethyst ; the pale, pure pearl ; and 
 ornaments worked in gold, — from the massive 
 links, like precious fetters, to the light fragile 
 chains of Venice. Nor were there only articles of 
 personal decoration ; but on some of the tables 
 stood silver cups and lamps, crystal girandoles, 
 4 and alabaster vases. 
 
 The surprise excited by this exhibition was 
 indeed increased when the Cardinal came forward 
 and said, that he trusted his guests would accept 
 his offering, as whatever the gallery contained was 
 to be distributed among them by means of a lottery. 
 " It is fortune you will have to thank, not me." 
 
 A murmur of applause and gratitude arose 
 from the crowd, which was soon interrupted by 
 the preparations for distributing the tickets. 
 
 Four pages, clothed in white and crimson, 
 brought in two massive salvers, whose delicate 
 carving was from the unrivalled graver of Ben- 
 venuto Cellini. These were filled with small sealed 
 billets, from which the company were to draw,
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 263 
 
 and afterwards open, in succession. The pages 
 first approached and knelt before the Queens, who 
 each took one of the billets, and then proceeded 
 to distribute the remainder among the rest. 
 
 It was curious to observe the many indications 
 of character called forth by the spirit of gambling 
 so unexpectedly evoked. Some pressed forward; 
 others hung back, as if they feared to tempt their 
 fate without some effort at propitiation, in the 
 way of " muttered vow and inward prayer." 
 While one would take up the sealed billet with 
 affected carelessness — belied, however, by the 
 anxious eye — another could not conceal the flushed 
 cheek and the trembling hand. Many elbowed 
 their way to the pages, without consideration or 
 scruple ; some few, with innate courtesy, made 
 way, and seemed to think that others had as much 
 right as themselves. 
 
 But Francesca's whole attention was soon en- 
 grossed ; for, attracted by the beauty of some vases 
 of cut crystal, Queen Henriette was standing 
 beside one of the tables. A moment afterwards, 
 Louis approached her, and began, apparently, to 
 discuss with her their exquisite workmanship. He 
 passed one or two from his own hand to hers ; 
 but scarcely five minutes had elapsed, before he 
 turned away ; yet Francesca could not doubt but
 
 264 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 that the letter had been delivered. The young 
 Italian could scarcely believe, that what had seemed 
 to her a difficulty so insuperable could be so easily 
 effected. Her eyes were fixed upon the place, 
 aware of what was going on, but she had not 
 been able to perceive look or gesture that either 
 party wished unobserved. She little knew the 
 perfect command of countenance so early acquired 
 in society ; or how one who, like Henriette, had 
 lived in a world of plot, intrigue, and anxiety, 
 was alive almost by intuition to the slightest signal 
 of intelligence. 
 
 The King moved carelessly amid the surround- 
 ing groups, evidently, however, verging to her side 
 of the room ; when his progress was interrupted by 
 Mademoiselle Mancini, who addressed to him 
 some laughing question. This was soon followed 
 by another, and she contrived completely to en- 
 gross Louis's notice. Marie even then began the 
 course which, in after-years, secured her so vast 
 an influence in the court, — alternately taking 
 up and laying down her claim to the youthful 
 monarch's penchant ; administering to his amuse- 
 ment, and ready to encourage his passing fancies. 
 Already she had controlled her temper, excepting 
 where it might be indulged in safety. She saw 
 that Francesca was now the idol ; and artfully
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 265 
 
 turning the discourse on Italy, contrived to .talk 
 about her former friend — the most interesting 
 subject she could have selected. Any one pos- 
 sessed of less finesse would have disparaged a 
 rival, — not so Marie. She praised Francesca ; told 
 many slight but amusing anecdotes of her child- 
 hood, and all in her favour ; till the King was 
 charmed with her for such warm and ingenuous 
 friendship, and with himself for having been the 
 first to discover those merits and graces. 
 
 In the mean time, Francesca, separated from 
 Madame de Mercosur, was hidden by a group 
 around the Queen of Sweden. With the wall 
 on one side, and a human blockade on the 
 other, she was left at full leisure to meditate on 
 a vow made at the first announcement of the 
 lottery, namely, that whatever might fall to her 
 lot she would offer in a neighbouring chapel to 
 the Virgin, at whose shrine she would kneel one 
 hour for Guido's safe return. But conversation 
 was too busy to allow of any very abstracted 
 meditation, and she was compelled, perforce, to 
 listen. 
 
 " I shall carry away with me," said Christina, 
 " an equally brilliant and grateful remembrance 
 of your court." 
 
 " I trust," said the Duke de Candale, " you 
 
 VOL. I. N 

 
 266 FRANCE6CA CARRARA. 
 
 will defer these pleasures of memory to the latest 
 possible period of enjoyment." 
 
 " Till to-morrow," replied she. 
 
 " So soon !" replied the Duke ; " and can you 
 tell us so with a smile ?" 
 
 " Ah ! you, I know, are one of those," con- 
 tinued Christina, " who imagine existence is 
 bounded by Paris — that life elsewhere is but dull 
 vegetation ! Now, denounce me not as a heretic ; 
 but I prefer Rome. Here, every thing k absorbed 
 in the present, as all there is merged in the past. 
 Yet, you must admit, that the ]ffest, with its 
 gathered glories of many ages, exceeds the past 
 which has only to-day?" 
 
 " Yes," replied Candale ; " but such glory has 
 its gloom. The shadow of the tombs whence it 
 emanates rests upon it." 
 
 " But what superb repose! — what deep con- 
 viction of the worth in life's nobler uses ! I have," 
 said the Queen, " higher hopes, and more gene- 
 rous feelings, in those marble solitudes, sacred to 
 great names, than I have here, where pleasure 
 is business, and a tabouret the best ambition. It 
 is very catching ; I am half inclined to dispute 
 precedence myself." 
 
 " Yet, these forms are necessary," replied an 
 elderly courtier, whose well - powdered aiks de
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 267 
 
 pigeon stood out a little more stiffly than usual at 
 hearing such doctrines. 
 
 " Well, well," interrupted the Queen, impa- 
 tiently ; " you take good care to surround your- 
 self with them." 
 
 " I'll tell you an anecdote," said De Joinville. 
 " You are aware that the privilege of entrance to 
 the staircase of the Louvre is reserved to the 
 Princes, to Ambassadors, and to Dukes. One 
 evening, when we were all assembled after his 
 Majesty's supper, M. De Roquelaure entered, 
 and advancing at once to the King, said, ' I came 
 in my carriage to the bottom of the staircase.' 
 Now he is not entitled to this honour, and the 
 King is severe on any breach of etiquette ; so 
 he was asked, in an angry tone of voice, * And 
 who could be ignorant enough to allow you to 
 enter?' ' Ignorant, indeed, Sire,' replied Roque- 
 laure ; * for he allowed me to pass under the 
 name of the Due d'Epernon, the last deceased.' 
 Louis laughed at this ; and we all, as in duty 
 bound, followed the example. ' I must tell you 
 how it happened,' continued Roquelaure. e It 
 was raining in torrents when I arrived at the 
 Louvre, and I told my coachman to enter. The 
 sentinel called out, ' Who is it?' ' It is a Duke.' 
 < What Duke?' < The Duke d'Epernon.' < Which?'
 
 268 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 'The last deceased.' 'Enter!' and my ghostly 
 grace entered.' So, you see, Madame, wit makes 
 its way in spite of all our forms." 
 
 The conversation was interrupted by an an- 
 nouncement, that as the billets had all been dis- 
 tributed, they were now to be opened. 
 
 Poor Francesca felt most cruelly disappointed. 
 Pushed aside in the crowd, with none to heed her 
 hidden position, no billet had been handed to her : 
 the pages had passed to and fro, but she had been 
 kept completely out of sight. She thought of her 
 intended offering to the Madonna ; it was as if 
 her very intention had been rejected. Perhaps, 
 even at that moment, Guido was in trouble 
 or sickness ! " Though I shall have nothing to 
 offer, yet I will go to-morrow and pray," thought 
 she ; and, in spite of her efforts, her eyes filled 
 with tears. 
 
 The whole gallery was now a scene of gay con- 
 fusion, — all were exhibiting and comparing their 
 prizes ; and in the mouvement Francesca con- 
 trived to draw near to Madame de Mercceur. 
 She held in her hand a superb jasmine spray of 
 pearls, which she was shewing to the group around. 
 
 " I pray you look at mine," said a cavalier, 
 who, though rather advanced beyond middle age, 
 retained the buoyant step and clear glad eye of
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 269 
 
 youth ; " do you not think it very appropriate ?" 
 and he exhibited a small hermitage, carved in 
 alabaster. 
 
 " Quite a moral lesson, Benserade, for you. 
 When do you retire?" 
 
 " A hermitage ? Benserade would prefer a 
 monastery, if all tales be true," exclaimed De Join- 
 ville ; " and, in their confirmation, I must say I 
 never tasted such venison as at the Benedictine 
 Abbey." 
 
 "And I," said the Due de Candale, " add 
 my testimony in favour of their wines : summer 
 seemed to have been expressly made for their 
 vineyards. No trifling recommendations, Monsieur 
 Benserade." 
 
 " I have known, in my court experience, much 
 worse ones attended to," replied Benserade. 
 
 " Your hermitage wants nothing but an in- 
 scription," said Madame de Mercceur. 
 
 " It shall want nothing that you wish," 
 answered the poet ; and, taking up a pencil, 
 wrote four lines on the vacant space which seemed 
 destined for such use. 
 
 " Adieu, fortune, honneurs, vous et les votres, 
 Je viens ici vous oublier ; 
 Adieu, toi-meme amour, bien plus que tous les autres 
 Difficile a congSdier."
 
 270 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 The little circle were warm in their commen- 
 dations on the readiness and the grace of the in- 
 scription ; when the English Queen stopped for 
 an instant in passing, and addressed Madame de 
 Mercoeur. " Have I calculated too much on your 
 kindness? I want my Henriette to see some of 
 the dresses preparing for the ballet ; will you 
 allow her to come to-morrow, and trespass on 
 your time and good-nature for their exhibition ?" 
 and as she spoke, her eye, with the most seeming 
 unconsciousness, rested on Francesca. Madame 
 de Mercoeur returned a polite consent, and the 
 Queen left the gallery. 
 
 Francesca was again confounded at the ease 
 with which the appointment was made ; for she 
 was right in her supposition, that the Princess's 
 visit the following morning was to give an answer 
 to the note which had that evening been conveyed 
 to her mother. 
 
 Mademoiselle Mancini, whose dialogue with 
 Louis had been interrupted by the Queen's de- 
 parture, whom her son almost invariably him- 
 self conducted to her carriage, now advanced to 
 exhibit a splendid pair of diamond earrings. She 
 was herself radiant with triumph ; which grew 
 still more obvious, when Louis returning joined 
 their circle. Francesca was still in the back-
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 271 
 
 ground ; but the quick eye of the King at once 
 perceived her. He produced his prize : it was a 
 massive bracelet, consisting of a broad band of 
 gold, widest in the middle, and shaped something 
 like a cuff; though it was obvious, from its un- 
 usually small size, it was only fitted to a most 
 delicate wrist. It was set with a sort of running- 
 pattern of various precious stones ; and it was 
 difficult to say, whether the costliness of the ma- 
 terial or the taste of the workmanship was most 
 to be admired. 
 
 Many a bright eye grew brighter as the glit- 
 tering toy was submitted to their inspection ; but 
 Louis seemed to have no immediate intention of 
 parting with the beautiful bracelet. He passed 
 round the circle, addressing each individual with 
 his own peculiar grace of manner, questioning 
 them on the various results of the lottery, till he 
 arrived where Francesca stood. " And you, Sig- 
 nora Carrara, have you been very successful? — 
 what memorial of our Cardinal's gallantry has 
 fallen to the lot of his fair country-woman V 
 
 " I had no billet," was the hesitating and con- 
 fused reply. 
 
 " Mon Dieu ! why did you not take one ?" ex- 
 claimed Madame de Mercoeur. " My dear Fran- 
 cesca, you are too shy."
 
 272 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 " The pages did not happen to pass near me." 
 " And you, my poor child, were ashamed to help 
 yourself! Will you ever forgive my carelessness ? 
 — it is I that am to blame," said the Duchesse, 
 with a kindness that quite deprived her young 
 companion of all power to thank her. 
 
 " Allow me the pleasure of reparation," said 
 the King. " The Signora Carrara will, I hope, 
 accept this toy in token that she extends her for- 
 giveness to us all. There is not a gentleman here 
 but must feel such a neglect as a personal re- 
 proach." With the most dignified, yet graceful 
 courtesy, Louis fastened the bracelet on Francesca's 
 arm.
 
 273 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 " That early love that longest haunts the heart, 
 Bringing back youth and home ! " 
 
 The glittering bracelet, every precious stone on its 
 golden circle lighted with the morning sunshine, 
 was the first thing that caught Francesca's sight 
 when she awoke. Up she sprang; for at once 
 the remembrance of its destination flashed upon 
 her mind. She dressed hastily, as she wished to 
 be at home again before Madame de Mercoeur 
 had risen. 
 
 Once she fastened the beautiful toy on her 
 arm in a passing touch of feminine vanity, equally 
 momentary and pardonable ; but not for an instant 
 did she think of appropriating it to her own gra- 
 tification. Her education, it is true, had preserved 
 her from much of the ignorant belief of her coun- 
 try ; but, whatever the head may be, the heart is 
 always superstitious. The more unexpected the 
 n2
 
 274 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 arrival of the prize, the more it seemed given for 
 the fulfilment of her original purpose. Indeed, 
 so paramount was Guido in her thoughts, that it 
 may be questioned whether it had even the merit 
 of a sacrifice. 
 
 Closely drawing her cardinal round her, she 
 descended into the park, at whose extremity was 
 the little chapel where she intended to make her 
 offering. She soOn arrived there, and found the 
 aged priest in attendance. The gem was given, 
 and a blessing received ; and many and fervent 
 were the prayers which she uttered at the foot of 
 the altar, for the safety and the welfare of her 
 beloved brother. She returned homewards more 
 slowly \ for the lovely morning was so bright, and 
 so quiet, that a sense of enjoyment and security un- 
 consciously stole into her heart. The glorious sun- 
 shine, the clear blue heaven, somewhat reminded 
 her of Italy. She felt the gladdening influences, 
 and walked slowly on in one of those pleasant 
 reveries which so rarely last beyond our child- 
 hood ; and when by chance they do revive, they 
 bring with them the freshness of that early and 
 happy time. 
 
 ' The path which she pursued overlooked the 
 high road, and, though little exposed to view, it 
 commanded all that was passing. Suddenly, she
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 275 
 
 saw Evelyn advancing slowly along, quite alone, 
 and seemingly lost in deep meditation. Francesca 
 was on the very point of beckoning to him, when 
 she checked herself; she had already learned that 
 leading lesson of society, namely, that of curbing 
 your first impulses. She was unwilling to have it 
 said that her early rising had been to meet him ; 
 and still more unwilling, when she recalled his wish 
 to avoid any suspicion of his intercourse with the 
 English Queen, — it was impossible to say how it 
 might be excited, and she therefore resolved to 
 pass on, without communicating the successful 
 delivery of the letter. But, as he came nearer, 
 she was startled to perceive his pale and haggard 
 appearance. His dress was neglected, like one 
 who had watched through the night, and cared 
 not for the coming daylight. His lip and cheek 
 were white ; and his step was uncertain and agi- 
 tated. 
 
 Every kind feeling in Francesca's heart rose to 
 the surface ; and she was just about to lean for- 
 ward and speak, when a servant on horseback, 
 leading another horse, rode up. Evelyn snatched 
 the bridle hastily, flung himself on the steed, which 
 pranced as if as impatient as himself, plunged the 
 spurs in its side, and darted off like a man who 
 strives to fly even from his very thoughts ; while
 
 276 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 Francesca watched the rapidly reoeding figure in 
 mute amazement. 
 
 There is something peculiarly attractive to a 
 woman in any display of strong emotion, though 
 she has herself no part in it. Evelyn's pale coun* 
 tenance and disturbed manner awakened in Fran- 
 cesca the most tender interest. Involuntarily, she 
 recurred to the period of their earliest acquaint- 
 ance — their first meeting, when each felt attracted 
 to the other, they knew not wherefore ; how shy- 
 ness deepened into timidity, and how that gra- 
 dually melted away before the sweet confidence of 
 mutual affection. She remembered, how, one long 
 summer day, they had, together with Guido, wan- 
 dered amid the ruins of ancient Rome ; and how, 
 while Guido dwelt on the poetry of the present, 
 Evelyn rather turned to the history of the past, — 
 and with what a noble enthusiasm ! How many 
 true and generous feelings had found an un- 
 conscious vent in words! " Beloved Evelyn," ex- 
 claimed she; " I am infected with the worldly 
 atmosphere around. I do you less than justice, 
 because necessity forces you to conform to the false 
 and frivolous spirit, which here seems the very 
 soul of existence, — I forget what your higher 
 nature really is ; rather ought I to blame my own 
 judgment, which looks not behind the mask."
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 277 
 
 Francesca pursued her way, calling up every 
 better attribute of her lover with all the aids which 
 imagination is ever so ready to offer on such occa- 
 sions, and, like most generous tempers, exaggerat- 
 ing the right to efface the wrong. 
 
 On her return, she hastened to Madame de 
 Mercceur's apartment, who was already risen. 
 
 " Do not hate me," said the Duchesse, " for my 
 news ; but a new commission of my uncle's has 
 taken your brother on to Rome." 
 
 " Ah! he will visit our old home," exclaimed 
 Francesca, her eyes filling with tears. 
 
 " Why is it," asked Madame de Mercoeur, 
 " that you turn with a more tender feeling than 
 I can to your former home, and former life ? I 
 candidly confess, that they never come into my 
 head, — at least, of their own accord. But, do 
 you know, I deem it one of my faults to live as 
 much as I do in the present. I never think of 
 what I do not see ; unless, as you must bear me 
 witness, an old friend now and then," passing her 
 arm affectionately round Francesca. 
 
 Just then a page announced, that the Princess 
 Henriette of England desired to be admitted. 
 
 " Ah," cried Madame de Mercceur, " there is 
 another instance of my forgetfulness. I promised 
 the dear child to shew her the caskets of that
 
 278 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 curiously wrought tortoise-shell — a gift of my 
 uncle's; and she is forced to recall my promise 
 by a visit." 
 
 There was something singularly interesting in 
 the youthful Princess, who now entered. Her 
 figure was very childish, and so were her small 
 and delicate features; — not so their expression; 
 for there was a degree of thought, mournful in 
 one so young ; and her large blue eyes had that 
 melancholy which is almost always prophetic. 
 It was strange, that while gazing on that fair 
 child, images of misfortune, early death, and 
 all life's saddest accidents, rose uppermost in the 
 mind ; — it was like spring with the association of 
 autumn. 
 
 Henriette approached, and, with a remarkably 
 sweet voice, addressed Madame de Mercceur, — 
 blushing, as it were, at the sound of her own voice; 
 " You see, Madame, what it is to promise a plea- 
 sure ; — am I too bold in reminding you of your 
 caskets ? Remember, if I intrude, the fault began 
 in your own kindness." 
 
 Madame de Mercceur was all delight and 
 courtesy, and the caskets were immediately pro- 
 duced. " I must make a merit of a fault," added 
 she, " and hope my candour will excuse my for- 
 getfulness. It is curious, that just .as your high-
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 279 
 
 ness entered, I was lamenting my utter want of 
 memory." 
 
 " I am glad," replied Henriette, " that in 
 future I shall have your example to plead. In- 
 deed, I never remember any thing but kindness." 
 And Francesca was conscious that the glance 
 which she caught was directed towards her ; 
 their eyes met, and the Princess withdrew her's 
 with a smile, which said, " we understand each 
 other." 
 
 No person is much in any particular room 
 without having a favourite seat in it; and Fran- 
 cesca was in the large window. Here she was a 
 little withdrawn from the circle, and yet able both 
 to see and hear ; timidity and curiosity being each 
 satisfied. 
 
 The progress of Madame de MercceurV toilette 
 went on ; and while her woman was exhausting 
 her ingenuity and attention in arranging the front 
 hair, Henriette exclaimed, " Ah, how beautiful 
 the veins of the tortoise-shell are, with the light 
 coming through, just like painted glass ; " and 
 raising one in her hand, she approached the win- 
 dow. Francesca, of course, offered to hold it ; 
 and while thus employed, the Princess said, in the 
 lowest possible tone, " Tell Mr. Evelyn, his note 
 was just in time ;" and then added, in a higher
 
 280 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 tone, " I really must thank the Signora Carrara ; 
 she holds the box so that the light comes through 
 quite beautifully ! " and turned away with another 
 of her sweet and intelligent smiles. The carriage, 
 with the lady in waiting, being announced, Hen- 
 riette departed, leaving Madame de Mercosur 
 charmed with her grace, and her admiration of 
 the favourite caskets. 
 
 But though Francesca strove to repress the 
 idea, as harsh and unkind, she could not repress 
 the feeling, that this grace was but the per- 
 fection of art. How must the natural emotions 
 have been checked — the wild, warm impulses of 
 childhood subdued ; how much of dissimulation 
 taught as a study, before a child could be so 
 guarded, and so ready in resource ! " Tis a weary 
 apprenticeship to serve," thought she ; " and, after 
 all, is not this perfection of manner a thing rather 
 to be admired than loved? — love asks reality." 
 
 Visitor after visitor filled up the morning ; and 
 late in the day, to Francesca's utter astonishment, 
 Evelyn was among the number, looking equally 
 well in health and gay in spirits. He came into 
 the room accompanied by the Chevalier De Join- 
 ville; and they were discussing, with much ani- 
 mation, whether blue and amber, or green and 
 scarlet, were the best mixture of colours.
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 281 
 
 " Give me scarlet and green," said the Che- 
 valier De Joinville ; " they are magnificently bar- 
 baric. The one so warlike; the other so sacred 
 to all true believers. Why, I should feel like the 
 Sublime Porte himself." 
 
 " Give me," replied Evelyn, " blue — 
 
 ' The sunny azure in my lady's eye/ 
 
 and amber — 
 
 * The amber tresses of her dropping hak.' 
 
 I appeal to Madame de Mercosur — " 
 
 " Who gives it in your favour, were it but for 
 the gallantry which brings but feminine instances 
 to support its taste. Out on the Chevalier's bar- 
 barous references/' 
 
 " Theory and practice do not always accord," 
 observed De Joinville, as he watched Evelyn take 
 a seat beside Francesca. 
 
 " I am impatient," exclaimed she, " to tell 
 you about your note ;" and she proceeded to detail 
 her anxieties and safe accomplishment of her un- 
 dertaking. " I was very near stopping you this 
 morning; but tell me," and her voice took an 
 unusual tone of interest, " what had just affected 
 you so seriously?"
 
 282 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 Evelyn absolutely coloured to the forehead as 
 he asked, in a hesitating voice, where she had seen 
 him. 
 
 " As you mounted in the high road this morn- 
 ing, and spurred that unfortunate horse of your's 
 as if life and death had been in his speed." 
 
 " I cannot allow myself to be cross ques- 
 tioned," replied Evelyn, with a smile obviously 
 forced. 
 
 Francesca felt her interest flung back again ; 
 — nothing is more painful, than to have a kindly 
 anxiety treated as curiosity. Involuntarily, her 
 manner became constrained ; and the conversation, 
 which had begun with so much animation, died 
 away into an awkward silence, which Evelyn 
 was the first to break. 
 
 " I have heard nothing talked of this morn- 
 ing," said he, " but the King's gallantry and your 
 beautiful bracelet. Do shew it to me." 
 
 " I offered it this morning to the Madonna. 
 It was in returning from the chapel through the 
 park that I saw you." 
 
 " You have made an offering of your bracelet! 
 What could tempt you to do any thing half so 
 absurd ? Were you afraid it would haunt you with 
 too brilliant hopes V
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 283 
 
 " I pray you," returned Francesca coldly, 
 " not to make my belief a subject of ridicule." 
 
 " But I must know what deep sin it was in- 
 tended to expiate. " 
 
 " None," replied Francesca; " it only accom- 
 panied my prayers for my brother's safety — " 
 
 " As if, " continued he, " his safety were 
 endangered by that pretty arm being worthily 
 clasped." 
 
 " At all events," replied Francesca, " it could 
 not be better bestowed, than as an offering, how- 
 ever unworthy, for his sake who is nearest and 
 dearest to me in the world." 
 
 " I thank you for the implied compliment," 
 returned Evelyn, in a tone of pique. But all 
 further intercourse was suspended, by Madame 
 de Mercceur's rising, as it was near the hour of 
 her attendance upon the Queen. 
 
 Again Francesca felt dispirited, and discon- 
 tented. " It is in vain," thought she, " to deceive 
 myself: there is, there can be, no sympathy be- 
 tween us. He excludes me from his confidence — 
 he takes no interest in my feelings. Ah ! I see 
 now that love is the delusion which the sage and 
 the grave say it is. Perhaps I should be thankful 
 that my eyes have so soon been opened to its 
 vanity." Yet she did not feel very grateful. Tis
 
 284 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 pity for those whose standard of love is high and 
 ideal ; for them are prepared the downfal and the 
 disappointment. The heart is the true sensitive 
 plant — revolting at a touch.
 
 285 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 The comic triumphs and the spoils 
 
 Of sly Derision — still on every side 
 Hurling the random holts." 
 
 Akenside. 
 
 Francesca would have been not a little astonished 
 could she have known with what curiosity her 
 arrival was anticipated that night in the royal 
 circle. Already the history of the bracelet had 
 reached the Queen's ear, with every possible varia- 
 tion and addition that human ingenuity, height- 
 ened by human envy, could devise. Perhaps of 
 these Marie's version was the most covertly bitter ; 
 and poor Francesca appeared with a degree of 
 artifice and coquetry about as far removed from 
 her real nature as it was from the real case. But 
 Anne of Austria, like most in her station, had 
 singular tact in detecting the true and the false. 
 The ear long accustomed to, and therefore on its 
 guard against, dissimulation, often catches the 
 fact from slight indications which would pass un- 
 noticed by the common observer. Still, she too
 
 286 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 had some desire to note what effect the present 
 honour, and still more brilliant fancies, would 
 produce on a character whose simplicity and 
 nature she had discerned at a glance. The truth 
 was, that Francesca was perfectly fancy free ; she 
 saw nothing in the King's action but the most 
 genuine kindness ; she was very grateful, and 
 there, to her thought, the matter ended. 
 
 When they entered the royal apartment, Louis 
 was at one end, entirely engrossed by Mademoi- 
 selle Mancini, while the Queen and her imme- 
 diate circle, which they joined, was at the other. 
 Marie had completely changed her plan ; she saw 
 that the higher game was not in her hands ; the 
 King was not, and would not, be in love with her ; 
 but she amused him, and, by a little skilful manage- 
 ment and flattery, could contrive to occupy his at- 
 tention quite enough to alarm his mother; " And 
 I shall be brilliantly married," thought she, " by 
 way of security." It may be questioned whether 
 Guido ever even entered her head ; love never lasts 
 with a temper like hers ; a first lover was welcome 
 rather as an omen of future triumph than for his 
 own sake. The sentiment of such a heart is dew, 
 that exhales with the earliest sunbeam. 
 
 The group round Anne were busily employed 
 in dissecting the Swedish Queen, who had departed
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 287 
 
 that morning, her eclat a little tarnished by an 
 overlong visit, and by an indiscreet patronage of 
 Marie Mancini's fascinations. An idol must be 
 picked to pieces before it is discovered to be but 
 wood and stone. An affected inattention, and a 
 grave smile from the Queen, reassured De Join- 
 ville as to the success of his mimicry, and Fran- 
 cesca was certainly the only one who stood per- 
 fectly dismayed at the sudden change from flattery 
 to sarcasm. So eagerly was the discourse carried 
 on, that not one perceived the Queen, who was 
 moving round, drop her glove ; it fell close to 
 Francesca, who, drawing off her own, picked 
 it up, and presented it. In so doing, Anne's 
 quick eye discovered that she had no bracelet 
 on; like all artful people, she suspected artifice, 
 and immediately supposed that Francesca feared 
 to wear the gem in her presence. 
 
 " My beautiful simplicity has then," thought 
 the Queen, " deeper designs than I suspected, and 
 is unwilling to let me see aught that can excite 
 suspicion." " How is this," continued she aloud, 
 " that the Signora Carrara does not honour my 
 son by wearing his gift?" 
 
 Francesca was dismayed ; this was a difficulty 
 which she had not foreseen. Even the conscious- 
 ness of right does not always support us ; and to
 
 288 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 increase her consternation, Louis had joined the 
 circle, while the eyes of every one were turned 
 upon her. Colouring till the tears glistened on 
 her long dark lashes, in a low faltering whisper 
 she stammered, " I have it not." 
 
 " Have you lost it ?" demanded the Queen. 
 
 " No, madame." 
 
 " Then why did you not wear it to-night?" 
 
 "It is mine no longer," replied the young 
 Italian. 
 
 " Surely," rejoined Anne, who was already 
 offended that such a gift should have been lightly 
 held, " you cannot have given it to any friend ?" 
 
 " O no!" was the eager answer. 
 
 " Then what have you done with it?" 
 
 " I offered it at the shrine of Our Lady, in the 
 chapel of the Valley." 
 
 " Now, the blessed Virgin forbid I should 
 grudge aught to her altar," exclaimed Louis, with 
 evident displeasure, " but, methinks, the piety 
 was ill-timed." 
 
 " Who knows," observed Mademoiselle Man- 
 cini with a sneer, " what idea la Signora might 
 attach to the gift; perhaps it needed a little ex- 
 piation." 
 
 " We cannot tell for. what tender interests it 
 was to plead," added the Chevalier de Joinville.
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 289 
 
 With a cold and indifferent air the Queen 
 turned away, when Francesca, regardless of form 
 in the excitement of the moment, sank on her 
 knee before her. " I cannot endure this imputa- 
 tion of being thankless for kindness so gracious 
 and so precious. Madame, I have an only and 
 beloved brother, delicate from infancy, and parted 
 from me for the first time in our life — parted from 
 me on a long and dangerous journey. When the 
 lottery commenced yesterday evening, I vowed 
 within my heart, that whatever became mine 
 should be offered to the Madonna, with my earnest 
 prayers for his safety. I felt almost, in having 
 nothing to offer, that my tribute had been, as it 
 were, rejected ; and when, by the most unexpected 
 chance, the beautiful bracelet became mine, could 
 I, dared I, not fulfil my precious vow ? Was I 
 the less grateful, because I put the gift to its most 
 worthy use ?" 
 
 There was not one kindly feeling in the Queen 
 but what was touched by the youthful stranger's 
 narrative ; she raised her, saying, " And so, my 
 poor child, you thought we were angry — the 
 blessed Virgin forbid ! We could wish her shrine 
 as well served by others young as yourself." 
 
 Look and word at once changed all round, 
 and not a few found themselves growing most 
 
 vol. i. o
 
 290 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 suddenly devout. Just then, an attendant to 
 whom the Queen had whispered returned ; and 
 taking a small case from her hand, Anne pro- 
 duced a bracelet somewhat similar to the very one 
 with which Francesca had parted, excepting that 
 it had her cipher, surrounded by a wreath of 
 fleurs-de-lis. " Louis, will you offer this to 
 Mademoiselle Carrara ?" 
 
 The young King again fastened the clasp on 
 Francesca's arm. " I hope you have no more 
 vows to pay?" said he, smiling. 
 
 Francesca could not have spoken, had it been 
 to save her life ; but there are cases in which 
 silence is very eloquence. 
 
 " My dearest child," exclaimed Madame de 
 Mercceur, " how I enjoyed your triumph ! But do, 
 pray, remember that royal gifts are meant to be 
 kept. I must say, however, that the Madonna 
 stood your friend to-night; and I am sure you 
 deserved it." 
 
 Triumph it might be — it certainly was; but 
 Francesca enjoyed it not as such. Injustice is 
 so revolting to the young — they hear of it, they 
 think of it, they believe in its existence, but 
 always as of that which cannot affect themselves. 
 It is a bitter lesson that which first brings it home. 
 Many a moment of feverish unrest did that night 

 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 291 
 
 bring to Francesca's pillow; she questioned, she 
 blamed herself — what could she have done that 
 the whole company appeared so to rejoice in her 
 pain ? Why should they dislike her — what offence 
 could she have given ? With what increased grati- 
 tude did she turn to the Queen's kindness! It 
 would have yielded her small pleasure, could she 
 have known that, beyond the momentary impulse, 
 that kindness was, of all, the most deceitful. 
 
 No marvel that we regret our youth. Let its 
 bloom, let its health, let its pleasures depart, 
 could they but leave behind the singleness and 
 the innocence of the happy an4 the trusting heart. 
 The lessons of experience may open the eyes ; but, 
 as in the northern superstition, they only open 
 to see dust and clay, where they once beheld the 
 beauty of palaces.
 
 292 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 " Nous avons change tout cela." 
 
 " I must be early in my attendance on the Queen 
 to-day, and you shall accompany me," said Madame 
 de Mercoeur to Francesca. " Mademoiselle de 
 Montpensier, so long an exile from the court, has 
 at last obtained permission to return; she will 
 arrive this morning. Have you any curiosity to 
 see this heroine of the Fronde V 
 
 " Indeed I have," answered Francesca ; " my 
 only fear is, in seeing so many new faces, that I 
 shall forget from remembering too much. The 
 whole of my former life would not fill one week 
 of my present existence." 
 
 " I, too, recall," replied the Duchesse, " how 
 bewildered I felt at first. I really lost half of what 
 I wanted to observe, through fear of losing any. 
 But we must be quick. I myself long to see if 
 our Princess return with her former unbroken 
 spirit. There is a saying of hers when a child,
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 293 
 
 which is the key to her whole character. Some 
 one was talking to her of her grandmother, 
 Madame de Guise, when she exclaimed, ' ' She 
 is my grandmother at a distance — she is not 
 Queen.' " 
 
 On Madame de Mercosur's arrival at the pa- 
 lace she found the carriage and guards in waiting, 
 the Queen having decided that she would do her 
 niece the honour of going to meet her. 
 
 " As we have deemed a reconciliation expe- 
 dient," said Anne to Madame de Mercoeur, as they 
 passed down the steps, " we must do it with a 
 good grace; a flourish of trumpets, and a few 
 extra guards, are a ready way to Mademoiselle's 
 heart." 
 
 The cortege proceeded about a mile, when a 
 courier announced the Princess's approach, who 
 arrived almost as soon. The carriage, which was 
 at full gallop, stopped suddenly ; the guards de- 
 ployed round, and Mademoiselle alighted. She 
 advanced with the step of aji empress, till she 
 came beside the Queen, when, dropping on her 
 knee, she kissed the hem of her robe, and then 
 the royal hand. This, however, Anne would 
 scarcely permit, and, raising the penitent, em- 
 braced her with seeming cordiality, exclaiming, 
 " I am very glad to see you ; you know I was
 
 294 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 always fond of you." The Princess again kissed 
 her hands. " Not but what I have sometimes 
 been Very, very angry with you. I did not mind 
 the Orleans business; but as to la porte Saint 
 Antoine, well for you I was not near- — I could 
 have strangled you!" 
 
 " Ah, Madame!" was the reply, " I deserve 
 it, since I displeased you ; but it has been my 
 misfortune to be connected with people who in- 
 duced me to act contrary to my duty." 
 
 " I have said all I meant to say — it is as well 
 to have it over at once. But henceforth it is a 
 forbidden subject — one, indeed, quite forgotten; 
 and I shall love you as well as ever." And again 
 they embraced. " Though it is six years since I 
 have seen you," exclaimed Anne, " you are not 
 the least altered ; instead of that, you are hand- 
 somer than ever ; your being rather more embon- 
 point suits you, and your complexion is brilliant 
 to a degree." 
 
 " Has your Majesty," rejoined Mademoiselle, 
 " heard that I have actually some gray hairs?" 
 
 " I am surprised," said Anne, " to see so 
 many at your age." 
 
 " I was resolved," observed her companion, 
 " that you should see me as I am, so have not 
 worn powder." Then, as if unwilling to admit
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 295 
 
 them as a defect, she added, " But my mother 
 had them before she was twenty ; and gray hairs 
 are quite an heir-loom on my father's side." 
 
 When they reached the gates, the Queen 
 desired her to notice the guard. " It is doubled 
 to-day on your account; we have not so many 
 usually." 
 
 " Nay," exclaimed the guest, " this is treating 
 me like a foreign princess." 
 
 14 Only in honour, not in affection," was the 
 gracious answer. 
 
 On their arrival, Francesca could not resist 
 an opportunity of expressing her astonishment to 
 Madame de Mercosur. " I expected," whispered 
 she, " the interview would be attended with such 
 awkwardness, and made myself quite uncomfort- 
 able before with thinking how annoying it would 
 be to both parties. Instead of that, nothing could 
 be easier ; and they seemed so glad to meet. But 
 were they quite in earnest ?" 
 
 " My dear Francesca," said the Duchesse, 
 laughing, " there are some questions that were 
 never meant to be asked, still less to be answered ; 
 and yours is one of the number." 
 
 They were all now assembled in the Queen's 
 apartment, who, passing her fingers through 
 Mademoiselle's hair, said, " It is very beautiful,
 
 296 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 but I must see it better dressed." The conversa- 
 tion then took the most familiar turn ; and Fran- 
 cesca, from where she stood, could hear the Queen 
 giving a laughing account of the Due de Dom- 
 ville's attachment to Mademoiselle Menneville, 
 the prettiest of her maids of honour, all of whom 
 were pretty. 
 
 " It is a passion of the good old time, and 
 has already lasted some four years ; but Madame 
 la Duchesse de Vantadour, his mother, will not 
 hear of it. Never before was a lover of fifty so 
 put out, to think that he cannot yet have his 
 own way. Not content with his own cares, when 
 obliged to be absent he leaves his almoner to take 
 charge of her. It is gallantry equally antediluvian 
 and interminable ; I suppose they will be married 
 one day, and buried the next." 
 
 At this moment the King arrived. He had 
 been riding, and was covered with dust ; but that 
 was, as his mother observed, the more flattering, 
 for it marked his impatience to see their visitor. 
 On his entrance the Queen presented Mademoi- 
 selle. " Here is a young lady who is very sorry 
 that she has been so wicked, and promises to be 
 very good in future." The King laughed. " But 
 where is your brother ?" 
 
 " He is coming in the carriage ; he would not
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 297 
 
 spoil his dress by riding. He is adorned to dis- 
 traction." 
 
 And he began laughing again, while Made- 
 moiselle betrayed the conviction that she was her- 
 self the object of this decoration ; but instantly 
 assuming an air of the utmost humility, she ex- 
 claimed, " I ought to kneel to implore your 
 Majesty's pardon for my past offences." 
 
 " Nay," replied he, "it is I who must kneel 
 to you, to entreat you not to speak in such a 
 style." 
 
 " How like she is to your brother !" said Anne. 
 
 " My brother is much flattered by the dis- 
 covery," said her son ; while Mademoiselle wore 
 a pleased and conscious smile. 
 
 " My life for it," whispered the Chevalier de 
 Joinville, " that Mademoiselle is already calcu- 
 lating the probabilities of marrying Monsieur." 
 
 At last the Duke of Anjou arrived, dressed, as 
 his brother said, to distraction. He wore a garb 
 rather fanciful, of a silver-gray colour, trimmed 
 with crimson, and a narrow edging of silver ; the 
 lace round his throat was of the finest point; 
 and, some time before he was seen, his perfumes 
 announced his approach. The youthful prince 
 was just at the age when love of dress is a passion. 
 The first appreciation of one's own face and figure 
 o2
 
 298 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 is a very delightful feeling ; and as the youth out- 
 grows the boy, it seems as if so much lost time 
 had to be made up. The Duke embraced his 
 cousin with extreme cordiality, which was greatly 
 increased by her ready compliments on his growth 
 and appearance. 
 
 A few minutes afterwards the Cardinal was 
 announced ; and Francesca was not the only one 
 who was curious to observe the meeting. They 
 kad been such declared, such personal enemies, 
 that, even in a court, it seemed wonderful how a 
 decent external could be given to their reconcilia- 
 tion. The difficulty was, however, only ima- 
 ginary. Mademoiselle was the first to salute the 
 Cardinal, who returned it with an air of great 
 empressement ; then addressing the Queen, she 
 said, " Really, I do think, your Majesty, after all 
 that has passed, should bid us embrace; I am 
 sure, on my part, it will be with all my heart." 
 
 The Cardinal immediately approached, and 
 knelt. This was, however, not suffered by the 
 Princess, who, extending both hands, raised him, 
 and they embraced with great apparent good- 
 will. 
 
 " The times are changed," said De Joinville, 
 in a low tone to Francesca, " since Mademoiselle 
 promenaded the terraces of the Louvre, with her
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. '299 
 
 ran ornamented with bunches of straw tied with 
 blue riband, and half Paris shouting at the sight." 
 
 Francesca made no reply; Mademoiselle was 
 so overflowing with happiness at her return to the 
 court, that it was absolute cruelty to make an 
 allusion to the dangerous past. Refinement and 
 amusement, like knowledge, are so diffused now- 
 a-days, that an exile from the royal circle would 
 be a nominal punishment ; but it then included 
 every species of privation. The theatre — at that 
 era such a resource — balls, fetes, &c, to say no- 
 thing of worldly influence, were all forfeited by a 
 banishment from court, the centre of all the plea- 
 sures, variety, and ambition of society. 
 
 " I look upon to-day, Mademoiselle," said the 
 Cardinal, " as the reward of my anxiety for your 
 return. I have, indeed, not been master of the 
 obstacles which opposed it." 
 
 " I can assure you," replied the Princess, 
 " you are but little aware how I used to take 
 your part, when my father was most enraged 
 against you. I always said things would be ex- 
 actly as they are." 
 
 Memory has many conveniences, and, among 
 others, that of foreseeing things as they have 
 afterwards happened. 
 
 The dinner -hour being near, Mademoiselle
 
 300 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 departed, Louis handing her to her carriage. 
 Francesca could not but admire her noble de- 
 meanour, her easy yet stately walk, and the finely 
 turned head, placed so gracefully on her shoul- 
 ders ; certainly no one ever more completely 
 looked her high descent. 
 
 " The comedy has gone off to perfection," ex- 
 claimed Madame de Mercoeur. " I am glad she 
 is allowed to return ; she is no longer dangerous, 
 and her exile has been sufficient punishment." 
 
 " Alas," replied Francesca, " I look upon the 
 self-possession, the readiness of reply, the ease, I 
 daily witness, with such 'hopelessness " 
 
 " All in good time," answered her friend, 
 laughing; " you are quite young enough to blush 
 a little longer. Wait till you have a motive for 
 dissimulation. I am afraid it is intuitive with 
 us all." 
 
 Truly, society is like a large piece of frozen 
 water; there are the rough places to be shunned, 
 the very slippery ones all ready for a fall, and 
 the holes which seem made expressly to drown 
 you. All that can be done is to glide lightly 
 over them. Skaiting well is the great art of 
 social life.
 
 301 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 Many falsehoods are told from interest, many from ill-nature, 
 but from vanity most of all." 
 
 The return of the Due de Mercceur added, if 
 possible, to the gaiety of Compiegne; and the 
 Duchesse gave a fete in its honour. Every thing 
 then was expressed by a fete ; saints were wor- 
 shipped, mistresses flattered, ministers courted, 
 victories celebrated, sentiments afnehed — and all 
 by a fete. Francesca greatly enjoyed the prepara- 
 tions — the pleasant part of a festival. For the 
 truth of this, ask any young person you please. 
 No entertainment, however brilliant, to which 
 you merely go, can at all equal the delights of one 
 where you have assisted from the original idea 
 of the giving to the actual accomplishment of its 
 being given. Your taste has been consulted, and 
 your self-love enlisted in its cause; your advice 
 has been asked, and, consequently, you have a 
 personal interest in its success. Your time has
 
 302 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 been taken up by a thousand details — and occu- 
 pation is the life of time. Who shall deny that 
 " les avenues de la bonheur sont delicieuses a 
 parcourir f 
 
 Francesca was somewhat shocked to find it was 
 thought " cliarmant" that all the fountains for 
 the occasion were to flow from dolphins' mouths, 
 instead of from the classic urn of some marble 
 naiad. Neither could she perceive the absolute 
 necessity of fastening all the wreaths with blue 
 and white ribands, the colours of the house of 
 Mercceur. Moreover, she could not help thinking 
 that the congratulatory verses were rather profuse 
 in their Mars', Hercules', Alexanders, and Julius 
 Caesars. Still, these were very small matters — as 
 nothing, beside the display of fireworks which were 
 prepared, and the rose-coloured taffeta brocaded 
 with silver which was to be her own dress. 
 
 The important night arrived ; an unusually hot 
 day had been succeeded by a cool fresh evening, 
 with a slight wind just enough to stir the orange- 
 flowers, till the air was redolent of their perfume. 
 The gardens were illuminated, and a striking 
 effect was produced by the large pieces of water, 
 which spread like immense mirrors, filled with 
 the light which they reflected. 
 
 Enjoyment is the least descriptive of all feel-
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 303 
 
 ings j and Francesca, who by this time had formed 
 many slight and pleasant acquaintances, no longer 
 found that a crowd was such very dreary solitude. 
 She passed from one gay companion to another, 
 greeted with numberless slight flatteries, alike 
 listening and forgetting with a smile ; honoured 
 by a few words of compliment from Anne, and a 
 look still more flattering from Louis, who at that 
 moment found the homage which surrounded him 
 on such a public occasion somewhat irksome, when 
 a glance only could follow the lovely creature who 
 flitted past. 
 
 I believe there are few who have not, even in 
 their gladdest hours, felt how nearly gaiety and 
 sadness are allied ; a shadow steals over the spirits, 
 like a cloud over the moon, soft and subduing, 
 perhaps transitory, but not the less dark Tor the 
 moment. 
 
 It was with a sensation of relief that Francesca 
 parted with her last companion, and glided away 
 to a lonely spot in the garden. The lamps, the 
 music, came softened from the distance ; the turf 
 before her was silvered only by the moonlight. 
 The moss at the foot of an old chestnut served her 
 for a seat ; and a trellis- work covered with honey- 
 suckle separated her from the adjacent walk, the 
 arch opening into which was just beyond. She
 
 304 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 sat, her beautiful head leaning upon her hand, 
 — now listening to the sweet tones floating on 
 the wind, and now lost in a vague and pensive 
 reverie. 
 
 " I know not," thought she, " why I should 
 feel so sad — it seems the very wilfulness of a child ; 
 and yet what an unutterable depression is upon 
 me at this moment ! Why should there arise so 
 vividly before me all that is most painful in my 
 destiny — its uncertainty, its dependance, its 
 emptiness ? How unsatisfactory has my life been 
 of late ! I have been divided between petty mor- 
 tifications, which I blushed to confess even to 
 myself, and vain feverish amusements — for I can- 
 not call them pleasures. I wish I could look be- 
 yond the smiling faces which meet me on every 
 side, and see whether they conceal feelings like 
 my own. Madame Mercceur is happier than I 
 am, and has more causes for happiness. She 
 has so much kindness in her power — is so be- 
 loved, and so secure of that love ! Alas, I am 
 so very, very grateful to her; and yet I cannot 
 help asking, what is my gratitude to her, and 
 of what consequence is my affection ? Ah ! how 
 foolish — nay, worse, is this repining! It is as 
 if I wished some misfortune to befall Henriette, 
 merely to prove my attachment. Not so — but
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 305 
 
 surely I may contrast our situations without wish- 
 ing hers to change." 
 
 And Francesca was drawing a contrast as con- 
 trasts are usually drawn, namely, as unfairly as 
 possible. We take some most favourable portion 
 of another's existence, and compare it with one of 
 the darkest in our own, and then exclaim against 
 the difference. 
 
 Gradually the young Italian's reverie became 
 merged in one of the sweet Venetian barcarolles 
 which had been familiar to her from infancy, when 
 her attention was first attracted , ^and then fixed, 
 by the conversation carried on by two individuals 
 in the walk behind her, and whose voices she at 
 once recognised to be those of the Chevalier de 
 Joinville and Evelyn. There is not much to be 
 said in defence of her overhearing ; but is there 
 a girl in the world who would not listen to her 
 own name, and from the lips of her lover? — it 
 must be so pleasant to hear him confirm to others 
 what he has first said to yourself. Curiosity would 
 be quite motive enough ; but vanity and curiosity 
 together are irresistible. 
 
 " What," asked the Chevalier, " will your 
 beautiful Italian do?" 
 
 " Console herself," replied Evelyn. " To be 
 very candid with you, I am getting heartily tired
 
 306 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 of my connexion in that quarter. It was a very 
 amusing dtlassement during her residence with 
 that most amiable of artists, Bournonville ; but 
 now that some childish acquaintance with the 
 Mancinis has induced them to try the dear de- 
 light of patronage, my beauty assumes les grands 
 airs, and actually, the other day, gave a distant 
 hint of marriage ! " 
 
 " The forgetfulness of women is really charm- 
 ing," observed De Joinville. 
 
 " What say you to taking my place? — many 
 a heart is caught in the rebound ; and La Carrara's 
 is worth having for a little while." 
 
 " I thank you," replied De Joinville ; " but 
 I have a foolish prejudice against les belles de- 
 laissees — I have no talents for consolation." 
 
 " Between ourselves, Francesca will find con- 
 solation in ambition. With her beauty and hypo- 
 crisy she may yet make a brilliant match. Well, 
 I wish her all possible success ; and, by the by, 
 De Joinville, we really must keep her secret." 
 
 " Any secret of mine that you possess, you are 
 at perfect liberty to reveal," said Francesca. 
 
 The sudden turn in the walk had brought 
 the whole party face to face. For a moment the 
 three stood in perfect silence. Evelyn — for false- 
 hood brings its own cowardice — was speechless.
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 307 
 
 De Joinville watched the scene with curiosity 
 — perhaps with deeper interest ; for in his secret 
 soul he disbelieved what his companion had just 
 asserted. There was a perfect simplicity — a clear 
 purity — a frankness — in Francesca's whole de- 
 meanour, that no art could have assumed — it was 
 too natural to be adopted. Moreover, his atten- 
 tion was rivetted as if on an exquisite picture ; 
 the moonlight fell full on her face, which was pale 
 as death, for her emotion was far too strong for 
 confusion ; her fine upper lip curled with unutter- 
 able scorn, while the blue veins on the temple 
 rose distinct. The large dark eyes seemed filled 
 with light, while her recreant lover cowered be- 
 neath their flashing disdain ; and yet he was the 
 first to speak. 
 
 " My dearest Francesca must forgive what a 
 moment's jealousy — " 
 
 " I do indeed forgive," exclaimed she, while 
 a smile of the most entire contempt rested on her 
 beautiful features, " what I despise too much to 
 resent ! But as even the most cowardly liar may 
 have his own miserable portion of influence, I 
 owe a formal disavowal to myself." Turning to 
 De Joinville, she continued, " As you have heard 
 so much of this discourse, you may have patience 
 for a moment more. My engagement with Mr.
 
 308 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 Evelyn has been open and avowed — approved 
 by my only friend, Madame de Mercoeur, who, 
 as a girl, was the confidante of an attachment 
 whose origin she witnessed — why still unfulfilled, 
 has been in consequence of my feeling that it was 
 a duty we owed to Mr. Evelyn's father, not to 
 marry without his consent. I pray your pardon 
 for troubling you with what can so little interest 
 a stranger ; but every man must have some femi- 
 nine tie near and dear to his heart ; and for the 
 sake of such, he owes somewhat of courtesy to 
 all who bear the name of woman. — As for you, 
 sir," again addressing Evelyn, " I must say, our 
 parting will to me be only a relief. Your right 
 has for some time been your only claim on affec- 
 tions that have long ceased to be yours. I felt 
 your unworthiness before I knew it. My only 
 sense at this moment is thankfulness." She 
 turned away, and passed De Joinville with a 
 slight bend, and in another instant was hidden 
 by the trees. 
 
 u I must follow her/' exclaimed Evelyn, " and 
 even try a little flattery;" but De Joinville ob- 
 served that he did not take the same path. 
 
 " Ma foil" exclaimed the Chevalier, " he must 
 try his flattery on himself." 

 
 309 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 Tis a bard lesson for the heart to learn, 
 That it can give itself, but give in vain.' 
 
 Francesca hurried through the winding paths 
 that led unperceived to the chateau, and, once 
 safe in the solitude of her own chamber, gave 
 way to the choking tears she sought not to re- 
 press ; and yet she felt it a relief to look back to 
 the event of the past evening. She no longer re- 
 proached herself for the change of her feelings 
 towards Evelyn — how completely was it justified ! 
 her growing dislike had been, as it were, a natural 
 warning — the good revolting unconsciously from 
 the bad. Then her cheek burned, and her brow 
 darkened, when she recalled the imputation he 
 had cast upon her ; shame, in the first instance, 
 had been merged in surprise and anger — shame 
 can never be the first feeling of the innocent ; but 
 even the falsest accusation brings the burning and 
 bitter blush, to think that such can even have
 
 310 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 been imagined. To this was added deep humilia- 
 tion ; for Francesca's worst mortification was to 
 remember that she had loved him. How had her 
 ingenuous and trusting affection been requited ! 
 Deeply within her inmost soul Francesca felt that 
 thus she could never love again. 
 
 It is no " romantic phantasy," no " eternal con- 
 stancy/' no " dying for love," no " blighted affec- 
 tion," — phrases so strangely misunderstood, and 
 still more strangely misapplied, — no vain dream- 
 ing sentiment, when I say, deeply is that woman 
 to be pitied whose first attachment has been ill 
 requited. The qualities most natural to youth are 
 at once destroyed, — suspicion takes the place of 
 confidence, reserve of reliance, distrust instead 
 of that ready belief in all that was good and 
 beautiful. Knowledge has come to her too soon — 
 knowledge of evil, unqualified by the general cha- 
 rities which longer experience infallibly brings ; 
 but her age has lent its own freshness to this first 
 great emotion ; it becomes unconsciously a criterion, 
 and the judgment is harsh, because the remem- 
 brance is bitter. Another affection may, and in 
 nine cases out of ten does, supersede the first ; and 
 it is well that it should, — the daily contentment 
 of life, the household happiness of hourly duty 
 and hourly love, are not to be offered up in vain
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 311 
 
 sacrifice to the unpitying past. But not the less 
 at the time did the disappointment appear too 
 heavy, not the less cruel was its influence over 
 the mind ; the ideal of love is gone for ever — its 
 poetry a dream, its fairy-land a departed vision. 
 
 Francesca felt as if life had suddenly lost its 
 interest ; yet it was not the lover that she regretted, 
 but the love. Never more could the future be one 
 vague but delicious hope ; never more could she 
 turn away disbelieving from the tale of treachery 
 and inconstancy ; never more take refuge in the 
 depths of her own imagination, and find comfort 
 in her own belief of perfect love. 
 
 Her taper sinking in the socket, warned her 
 how late, or rather how early, it was ; for a shadowy 
 light made the chamber dimly visible. She drew 
 back the heavy curtain, and in came the bright 
 sunshine, and the cool fresh air. Below lay the 
 garden, where arches of gathered flowers drooped, 
 discoloured and withered, beside the fresh growth 
 on the natural bough. Most of the lamps were 
 extinct, but they glittered golden in the morning 
 light, and in some few a pale white flame yet 
 straggled with day. As she left the window, 
 the mirror opposite caught her eye — that mirror 
 which she had left the evening before radiant 
 with the graceful aids of dress. She started back
 
 312 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 at the contrast; her hair was dishevelled, and 
 pushed from the forehead in tangled masses, while 
 the wreath added to the unseemliness by the con- 
 trast of finery; her face was wan, and the eyes red 
 and heavy with watching, to say nothing of tears ; 
 while the parched lip had not a vestige of colour. 
 Her dress, too, had lost its freshness; and its 
 gaiety, the bare neck and arms, were strangely 
 at variance with the broad daylight and quiet 
 morning. The very first glance suggested the 
 propriety of going to bed. Leaning for a few 
 minutes at the open casement, she breathed the 
 pure and sweet air, which at once revived and 
 soothed her ; then, closing the curtains, she re- 
 tired to rest, and, thoroughly worn out, body and 
 mind, was soon asleep. 
 
 There are few but must recollect the first 
 awakening after any event ; the unconscious 
 rousing, the gradual remembrance that something 
 unusual has occurred, the half reluctance to recall 
 it, till suddenly it flashes full upon your mind, 
 and you start up in astonishment at even your 
 momentary oblivion. One part was indeed 
 disagreeable to Francesca — the necessity which 
 existed of telling Madame de Mercceur : not but 
 what she was certain of the most affectionate 
 sympathy ; but it was painful to be the herald of 

 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 313 
 
 her own mortification, and the disgrace of him 
 who, at least, had been her lover. Still the 
 disclosure was inevitable — she would be obliged 
 to explain the cessation of intercourse between 
 Evelyn and herself; and even without that, she 
 owed confidence to Madame de Mercosur's kind- 
 ness. 
 
 The account was received with more regret 
 and surprise than she had expected ; the Duchesse 
 could scarcely listen for her own exclamations — all 
 the while begging Francesca to go on. Suddenly 
 she started from her seat, for the Duke entered 
 the room : passing her hand through his arm, she 
 made him sit down in the fauteuil, while in the 
 same breath she told Francesca to tell her story, 
 and at the same time went on telling it for her, 
 only interrupted by the angry or contemptuous 
 ejaculations of her husband. 
 
 "Mademoiselle da Carrara," said he, when 
 the narrative was ended, " I never heard of a 
 more gratuitous insult — of a more unmerited ca- 
 lumny ; allow me at least to say, that your friends 
 feel that it is offered to themselves. But now let 
 us dismiss so worthless a subject. We will find you 
 a better cavalier in our belle France." So saying, 
 he rose to depart; while a most painful suspicion, 
 suggested by the sudden paleness of the Duchesse, 
 vol. i. p
 
 314 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 arose in Francesca's mind ; and yet to give it 
 words, should she be mistaken, would be cruelly 
 embarrassing. 
 
 " It must not go unpunished," exclaimed the 
 Duchesse, as if answering to her own thoughts. 
 " Yes, mine is the best plan; I will instantly go 
 to my uncle, and ask him for a lettre de cachet. 
 Solitary imprisonment in the Bastile will be the 
 very thing for Mr. Evelyn." 
 
 " I think," replied Francesca, " that to give 
 me pain is the farthest in the world from your 
 wishes ; and yet what could be more painful 
 to me than any thing like revenge on Mr. 
 Evelyn?" 
 
 "Good Heavens!" interrupted Madame de 
 Mercoeur, " you cannot retain one spark of affec- 
 tion for him 1 " 
 
 " Indeed I do not. I speak from motives of 
 pure selfishness. I wish, now, nothing of or from 
 Mr. Evelyn but forgetful ness. I disdain his miser- 
 able conduct too much to resent it ; and the only 
 proof my friends can give me of sympathy in my 
 feelings, is to shew how unworthy they consider it 
 to be of notice." 
 
 " Ah, but Francesca, a few months' solitary 
 meditation would be of such infinite service to 
 le perfide! it would bring him to his senses — per-
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 315 
 
 haps to your feet again ; and the pleasure of re- 
 jection would be something." 
 
 " To me less than nothing. No, dear Hen- 
 riette, I never wish to see or hear of Mr. Evelyn 
 again ; it is sufficient mortification to think that 
 I ever could have loved him. Besides, may I add, 
 that I have my own little vanity on the occasion, 
 and its suggestions whisper perfect discretion. 
 Confidence, entire confidence, I owed to your 
 friendship; but I am not bound to extend that 
 confidence. A subject like the present must be an- 
 noying in the mouths of indifferent people ; their 
 comments, whether of wonder or pity, would be 
 intolerable. Any notice of Mr. Evelyn's conduct 
 must excite them, and from such I do entreat to 
 be spared." 
 
 " Rely upon me, that it shall not be talked 
 of," replied the Duke. " And now, Henriette," 
 addressing his wife, " do let us praise her. In 
 such a case I should have expected tears, faint- 
 ings, and a most ready acceptance of your kind 
 offer of the Bastile." 
 
 " Now, see the selfishness !" exclaimed Madame 
 de Mercceur, laughing ; "he is charmed with 
 you because you have given him no trouble — he 
 has not had even to offer you a glass of water. 
 But 1 do say you are a dear creature, and quirt-
 
 316 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 worthy to be one of those much-enduring heroines 
 of your line, on whose merits it so delighted your 
 poor old grandfather to dwell.*' 
 
 " And when I remember," said Francesca, 
 " the stiff red and blue figures he used to exhibit, 
 the saints and my forefathers forgive me for 
 saying, the blessed Virgin keep me from the 
 resemblance !" 
 
 " But see what it is," cried the Duchesse, " to 
 enact the part of confidante ! I am actually for- 
 getting, and you too, Francesca, the important 
 duties of the toilette. Come, come — we must 
 make haste ; for in a little while I expect to be 
 overwhelmed with congratulations on the success 
 of my charming fete ; and you must prepare for 
 not a few compliments on your own appearance 
 — and, indeed, I never saw you look better." 
 
 So saying, the little knot broke up ; Francesca 
 greatly relieved to think the disclosure was made. 
 
 The following evening was the one previous 
 to their meditated return to Paris — a resolution 
 somewhat suddenly taken, in consequence of the 
 King's intention to visit Sedan, and inspect the 
 proceedings of the army. Among the visitors who 
 crowded in to express their regret that Compiegne, 
 still so beautiful, was about to be deserted, was 
 the Chevalier de Joinville. He took the earliest
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 317 
 
 opportunity of addressing Francesca — who, in 
 spite of herself, could not help blushing as she 
 saw him approach, partly, it must be owned, from 
 apprehension. He had usually contrived to say 
 or to imply something disagreeable — and now he 
 had such an opening ! 
 
 She was pleasantly mistaken. His manner was 
 respectful, and even kind, as he said, " I cannot 
 depart for Sedan, without entreating Mademoiselle 
 la Carrara's forgiveness." 
 
 " A forgiveness most readily granted, did she 
 know what there was to forgive." 
 
 " An unjust opinion. Is the offence quite 
 unpardonable ?" 
 
 " If concerning myself, I can assure you it is 
 already forgotten." 
 
 " That is to say, you do not care what my 
 opinion is, was, or may be." 
 
 " That is a very sweeping assertion," replied 
 Francesca, hesitating, for the best reason in the 
 world — because she really did not know what 
 to say. 
 
 " Now," continued the Chevalier, " I feel 
 sufficiently sorry for past injustice to be very 
 desirous of both explanation and amendment. 
 Mr. Evelyn " 
 
 " Perhaps," interrupted Francesca, " you will 
 p2
 
 318 FBANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 allow me to speak, and, in so doing, put an end 
 for ever to a very painful subject. I have myself 
 not a remark to make on Mr. Evelyn's conduct — 
 and I wish to hear none. I owed it to Madame 
 de Mercceur's kindness to have no concealments 
 from her ; — the explanation given, the subject will 
 not again pass my lips. On yourself I can have 
 no claim but for that general courtesy which I 
 think authorises me to request that here the topic- 
 may be dropped." 
 
 " You are right; and, I can assure you, my 
 own remembrance is too disagreeable to dwell 
 upon. But it is a gratification to have friends ; 
 and I must be permitted to tell you how warmly 
 the Due de Mercceur took up your cause." 
 
 Francesca's anxious look now betrayed her 
 attention . 
 
 " He called on me this morning to request me 
 to be the bearer of a challenge to Mr. Evelyn." 
 " Good God !" exclaimed Francesca. 
 " You need not look so pale ; Mr. Evelyn is 
 half-way to Holland by this time — a fact which 
 was my answer. Mercceur then bade me to be 
 silent for once in my life. I promised, and, what 
 is more, intend faithfully to perform." 
 
 Observing that his companion smiled, he went 
 on, —
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 319 
 
 " And you do not consider this communication 
 any great proof of my discretion ? On the con- 
 trary, it is its seal. I could not help gratifying 
 you, by telling you what sincere friends you had ; 
 and myself, by entreating permission to remain at 
 least in their outward rank." 
 
 What answer but a gracious one could be made 
 to such a speech ? And the Chevalier with obvious 
 discontent obeyed Mademoiselle Mancini's signal, 
 who wanted to ask some question respecting the 
 royal departure, on which he was to be an at- 
 tendant. 
 
 Francesca remained, rather marvelling in her 
 own mind at the change in De Joinville. With 
 all her recently acquired experience in society, 
 she scarcely arrived at the right conclusion. The 
 truth was, her last words to Evelyn had done her 
 great service with the Chevalier, who was charmed 
 to hear her say, that it was no preference that had 
 ensured her fidelity. No man likes to hear that 
 any woman is in love with his friend — it seems a 
 sort of personal affront to himself; and, without 
 being epris with Francesca, De Joinville admired 
 her quite enough to have an undefined resentment 
 at her favour to another. And here we cannot 
 but note the less selfish nature of woman. In 
 nine cases out of ten, a girl is delighted in her
 
 320 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 companions' conquests — to be confidante is almost 
 equal to having the lover her own. This, we 
 grant, is confined to the very young, and perhaps 
 they may consider it as an augury ; still, this mere 
 satisfaction in confidence* is a purely feminine 
 feeling. Besides, to do De Joinville justice, he 
 felt, too, a degree of kindly compunction for the 
 former harsh judgment entertained of one who so 
 little deserved it; and — for there is no such thing 
 in the human mind as an unmixed sensation — he 
 was struck both with the spirit with which she 
 resented, and the proud humility with which she 
 forgave the affront. 
 
 The idea of the parting so near gave rather 
 more than usual animation to the circle. The 
 visit to the camp — the hope of meeting with the 
 enemy, were but stirring excitements ; all were 
 too young, too happy, too prosperous, for fear. 
 The room was crowded and warm ; and, stepping 
 from the window, Francesca leant on the balus- 
 trade which looked on the garden below, silvered 
 over by the quiet moonlight. 
 
 " I hope," said a voice by her side, " your 
 absent brother will not engross all your orisons," 
 
 " No one will offer them more fervently than 
 I shall do for your Grace's success," said Fran- 
 cesca, who instantly recognised her royal com-
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 321 
 
 panion. A minute's silence ensued — the young 
 Italian always required encouragement to con-* 
 verse ; and Louis was struck by the beauty of her 
 profile, whose pure and sculptured features seemed 
 so much more than fair in the soft clear radiance. 
 
 A burst of laughter now came from the 
 chamber. 
 
 " How this perpetual gaiety," exclaimed Louis, 
 •' jars upon the ear ! Good Heaven ! is farewell 
 to be said so gladly ? I sometimes start when 
 I think upon the hollowness of all that surrounds 
 me. I often wish my eye had the power of search- 
 ing the inmost depths of the bosoms whose watch- 
 word is my name." 
 
 " And amid, perhaps, some disappointments, 
 how many hearts would you not find faithful and 
 devoted to your Majesty!" 
 
 " I wish but for one." 
 
 Francesca looked down and blushed, — first, 
 at the earnest gaze of Louis's face ; and, secondly, 
 but still deeper, at her own folly in having indi- 
 vidualised a general expression. 
 
 •• It were against all rules, whether of history 
 or romance — whether I look to my grandfather 
 Henri Quatre, or to the less veracious chronicles of 
 Scuderi, and copy Oroondates — to depart without 
 some favour." So saying, he took a little buncli
 
 322 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 
 
 of white violets from her hand, and then raised 
 the hand itself — after a moment's half-hesitation, 
 he kissed it, and left her side. 
 
 Francesca was at first surprised at the youth- 
 ful monarch's gallantry ; but her thoughts soon 
 wandered to other subjects — for thoughts usually 
 wander when neither vanity nor interest fix them. 
 
 " I have news for you !" exclaimed Madame 
 de Mercosur, when they retired for the night ; 
 " Marie is going to be married — in another week 
 she will be Countess of Soissons. A splendid for- 
 tune — the blood royal, — I think even her expec- 
 tations must be satisfied." 
 
 " I hope she will be happy," said Francesca. 
 " But what will the King say ?" 
 
 " Whatever his mother pleases — the present 
 visit to the camp is, I suppose, by way of consola- 
 tion. Perhaps, though it has been kept so quiet, 
 to prevent interference : we never understand the 
 value of things, hearts included, till we are about 
 to lose them. I was not aware of the alliance till 
 this afternoon. My uncle's presents, I hear, are 
 magnificent." 
 
 The image of Guido naturally arose in his 
 sister's mind — how would this marriage affect 
 him ? Surely it were best, if any vain and un- 
 avowed hope — unavowed even to himself — lurked
 
 FRANCESCA CARRARA. 323 
 
 in his dreams, that it should be utterly destroyed. 
 " Alas, my brother !" thought she, " we are alike 
 in this — each must part from the first idol which 
 the heart set up ; and each, too, with a deep sense 
 of its unworthiness, and a late, sad knowledge of 
 the falsehood of our early creed ! " 
 
 A stronger affection seemed born of the con- 
 viction. Each was yet left to the other — Italy still 
 remained : and Francesca fell asleep, and dreamed 
 of returning to all the hopes, pleasures, and scenes 
 of her childhood. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 J. MOYE3, CASTLE STREET, LEICESTER SQUARE.
 
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