the robber-hamlet was buried in deep repose, issued from the confined apartment to breathe the cool nocturnal air. It was a calm, lovely night, the broad moon illuminated an open glade of the deep wood, which ran immediately before her hut; she walked along this with slow, meditating steps, until she came to an ancient edifice, like that she had passed in another part of the wood, when carried thither by Mangone. This, like its fellow, was one of the three glorious temples of Pæstum : those sublime remains of antiquity which have since attracted the wondering travellers from all the civilised countries of the world; but which were then, as they remained for many after years,* buried in a wild wood, and unknown, save to the robbers who made them their haunt, or to the wandering goat-herd, or the fisherman who might catch a glimpse of them peering over the trees, from the contiguous coast. Ignorant and pre-occupied as was the mind of the lovely maiden, she could not gaze on these solemn grey, massive, firm-set columns, that looked as no mortal hand had ever placed them there-as if nothing but a tremendous earthquake could ever prostrate their pride-she could not see them rising from amidst the dusky wood in the clear moonlight, without a sensation of wonderment and awe. To obtain a nearer view of them, to endea

*It is said that the merit of discovering, or rather of bringing these sublime works of antiquity into notice, was due to an English traveller, not quite a century since.

vour to touch what she almost thought might be an illusion of her troubled brain-so sublime did they appear, and so unlike anything that had as yet fallen under the observation of her senses,- she was proceeding with hurried steps, when her attention was distracted by an object that lay on the ground beside one of these moonlit columns. Whatever it was, it gleamed with a wax-like ghastly hue, in the rays of the sweet planet—she stooped to ascertain it, and saw with horror, a human body streaked with blood! With her own young blood congealing in her veins, she rushed onward without purpose, but what other object was that, glaring at her from the diverging branches of an old tree? It was another human body in the attitude of crucifixion, with the writhed countenance of one who had died in torture, displayed by the pale moon-light. With the fascination of horror-with eyes starting out of her head, she stood rooted to the spot, gazing on the spectacle of atrocity. Then she ran wildly forward to escape its sight, to the temple; but there, even on the holy ara, other objects of dread disgust met her sight; and at her sudden intrusion, a swarm of ravens and night-birds that were battening on the mutilated victims of the robbers' barbarity, flew on high to the architraves of the ancient edifice, where they croaked and screamed in wild, horrific discord. This was too much for Nicoletta to bear, and with a shriek she fainted and fell on the floor of the temple.

How long she remained in this state she knew not; but with her returning senses came the dreary conviction of Mangone's hellish guilt, and the firm determination to escape from him or die. Not knowing whither she went, she ran through the thick wood that closed immediately beyond the open space in which the temple stood. For a long time she wandered in its intricacies, but at length, guided by chance, followed a narrow opening that led to its issue, near the sea shore. Day was now beginning to dawn on the beautiful and tranquil gulf, and she saw by its light the little town of Acropoli, standing on a cliff that is washed by the sea. Thitherward she was directing her steps, when she perceived a fisherman's bark preparing to leave the shore, close at hand. With a supplicating, piteous cry, and with tottering limbs, she ran towards it- she reached it breathless, and a grey-headed mariner was easily persuaded to receive the exhausted, pallid, horrorstricken maiden on board his bark, which instantly glided from the atrocious neighbourhood.

It was not until several hours after her escape, that Mangone, previously to starting on an expedition to intercept the Viceroy's procaccio, or mail, repaired to the cabin to commune in gentleness and love with his captive, whom he destined for his wife as soon as she should be well. His consternation and rage at finding her not in the hut-not in the hamlet, were such as only a fiery, volcanic nature like his, could feel with

such intensity. The expedition was abandoned, and himself and his somewhat murmuring comrades went off in different directions, to scour the country in quest of the peasant girl.

But Nicoletta was safe with the old fisherman, who carried her to his own town of Salerno, at the opposite end of the gulf; nor was it until weeks after that her tiger-lover, who never gave up his endeavours to recover her, learned from one of his numerous emissaries, that a girl answering to her description had been received into the service of a nobleman of that fair city. With this intimation, and under cover of a skilful disguise, the daring, fearless Mangone flew from his retreat to Salerno, and ventured within the walls of the city, where he soon traced out the fugitive, who, dreading to return among her kindred and friends with the suspicion of dishonour upon her, so readily entertained by these jealous, susceptible people of the south, and so acutely felt by the female peasantry, and by all the lower classes of Italians (whatever be the morals of their superiors), had indeed determined to live among strangers, and had obtained service in the noble mansion to which he had traced her. His ever-ready wits, now sharpened by the value he attached to the prize at stakeby the passion that raged in his breast, and aggravated by disappointment at once busied themselves in devising the means of decoying Nicoletta from the town, and carrying her again off to his haunt. He watched

about the nobleman's house in which he supposed her to be, during the whole day. A glance he caught of her beautiful face at a window almost maddened him, and his prudence could scarcely prevent him from rushing into the mansion and seizing her at that moment. The gloom and stillness of night fell on the town of Salerno; the inhabitants had gone to their peaceful slumbers, and the robber Mangone was still prowling round the dark walls which contained the object of his fierce affection, when he saw a person enveloped in a large Spanish cloak approach the silent mansion. He glided into a deep shadow, where he remained unseen, but whence he could watch the proceedings of the mysterious visitor.

Presently, the man in the cloak clapped his hands; the signal was answered by opening of a window: the man threw up the ends of a rope ladder he carried concealed under his mantle, and in the next instant, before Mangone could reach him and stab him to the heart, he ascended with the active steps of youth and love, and entered the house.

It never entered into Mangone's maddened brain, that in the mansion there must be other women: absorbed himself by one image, he felt that the beautiful Nicoletta must be the object of this night visit, and burning with furious jealousy and revenge, he stayed to kill his fancied rival when he should descend into the street. Just at this moment of absolute madness,