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"A net in th' one hand, and a rusty blade
In th' other was; this Mischiefe, that Mishap;
With th' one his foes he threatened to invade,
With th' other he his friends meant to enwrap,

For whom he could not kill he practiced to entrap."-Spenser.

MESSER Niccolò followed in the steps of his companion at a more leisurely and careful pace; but such was the strength of the chain which bound the unlucky Orsino to his rock, that the rescuers had not succeeded in severing its links when he too arrived, It was of the kind used in fastening up in their stalls the mighty animals intended for the bull fights-a pastime which the Spaniards had introduced with themselves into Italy.

The Florentine took a leisurely survey of the whole scene, and of the person of the prisoner, which indeed was not unworthy of notice, for it presented many of the finer characteristics of the Italian race, deterio rated indeed from the manliness and vigour of the Latin, but retaining much of the symmetry and grace befitting the boasted descendants of Venus. The Orsino was a man in the prime of his age, and possessed a frame rather remarkable for elegance and proportion than for power, yet which was probably of much greater strength than might at first have been concluded, from the perfect harmony and adjustment of the parts. The features were strongly, but at the same time finely delineated, traces of ardent passions visible in their rapid workings, and ever-restless variety of light and shade; which yet, at pleasure, could sink into a marble repose, that mocked the scrutiny of the observer. The complexion, too, might be compared to that which marble takes when long exposed to the rays of a southern sun, that golden paleness of hue which we rarely or never behold in the north, now deepened to swarthiness by the dark sweat which bathed the visage of the exhausted captive. His long raven-blue hair heightened the cadaverous tint which suffering and dread had bestowed, and over which his sunken eyes, flashing with delirious excitement, diffused a strange light. His whole frame was indeed in agitation, the muscles throbbing, the palpitations of the heart visible through the mantle of flock cloth which he wore, his general costume being that of a Lombard merchant, which he had probably assumed as a disguise for his real quality. Surcharged with the electric fluid of the passions as was the nature of the Italian of the sixteenth century, still he had nothing of the mercurial vivacity of the Frenchman in him. His vehemence vented itself in thunder VOL. VIII.

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storms occasionally, but for the most part smouldered under a calm aspect, differing equally from the pompous gravity of the Spainard, and which was not melancholy, and yet resembled it as twilight resembles moonlight. It was in this age that the Italians achieved that character throughout Europe which induced Shakspeare to make Italy the scene of some of his most vigorous and terrible creations, for there the passions of humanity seemed to have reached their hottest glow; the human intellect to have attained its subtlest polish-there the sunstruck passion of Romeo, and the refined fiendishness of Iago, were natural productions of an atmosphere so fraught with good and evil, with horror and beauty, treachery and cruelty so remorseless, love so absorbing as to resemble madness, and which only the delirious splendour of the imagination of that age, excited by the strange convulsions and revolutions which befel it, could have reflected into such terrible and yet magnificent distortions.

So much were the actors in the scene absorbed, that no one noticed the entrance even of so dignified a personage as the Florentine ambassador, except the jester, who had himself halted under the black natural archway which the piled rocks formed opening into the cavern.

They have saved him indeed, the deadliest snake of the whole brood!" muttered the jester, half to himself, half to Messer Niccolò. "I will attempt no enterprize again on this day of the moon, for on it the blindest chance has foiled all wisdom and foresight! Yet stay! look, how his tongue is swollen too big for his jaws-water would refresh him. Methinks I will bear him some; 'twere a charity."

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And lest the cold wave should strike chill, you will season it with some eastern powder, which warms the stomach suddenly?" returned Messer Niccolo, with an inquiring glance, adding, in a somewhat deprecative tone, But I see not any good policy in that-it is one of my maxims, that a prince who intends to crush his enemies, should not attempt to do it in many blows, but in one which shall concentrate the strength of many, for else he runs much risk of exciting a resistance which may baffled him. Never injure but where you destroy, or you but sow the dragon's teeth for your own destruction; therefore, until you can extirpate the whole Orsini family, I would not have you provoke them by the destruction of one of its greatest members, in whom its life-blood flows-its heir-for you can scarcely hope so sudden a catastrophe should hap without suspicion."

"It is another of your maxims, Niccolò, that whoever would keep a newly-acquired state, must root out the whole race of the expelled prince," replied the motley, musingly. "My power is only that of which I have deprived the feudatories of the Holy See.'

"Without doubt you are the destined instrument to exterminate the petty tyrants of Italy, and once more to restore her unity." replied the politician. "It is also true that Paolo Orsino is one of the most powerful

nay, since the Colonnas were stripped naked-the most powerful of the church's rebels; still, I do not think the time is seasonable at this moment for his destruction."

Niccolò, thou hast a better brain to devise, than heart to execute," replied the jester, somewhat contemptuously smiling. But thou art ever mine oracle; and moreover, there is something whispers me that, like all the other mischances of my life, even this is working to my good. I may yet need Paolo to play against the proud coxcomb of

Ferrara-what doth this Bembo with his sharp nose cutting the air of Romagna?

"I would I could assure myself on that thesis, sir," returned the politician.

'I will not give the Orsino to drink then-now, moreover, I must learn who hath betrayed me thus by suffering him to live to need a draught at my hands, or the tickling in his ribs of a sprinkle-of-mercy!" continued the motley. "But I much doubt whether Signor Paolo, who has cause to know me, who has met me in battle, where men's looks strike into each other's souls, may not recognize me even in this disguise. Anon, and I shall find it as difficult to hide me as the sun, were he to play at bo-peep with the world."

Nay, sir; in this disguise, with those fiery red locks, that bepatched visage, those strange eyes, who could recognize the great duke of Romagna? And considering how little some do love you, who could suspect such folly in the subtlest spirit of the age, as to believe he would trust himself to its protection?" said Messer Niccolò.

"Nay, good lad, not altogether; these fellows of mine will not turn their backs on double their number," replied the jester, rather hastily, as if he liked not the covert sneer. But, at this moment, a shout of joy interrupted the dialogue. One of the massive links of the chain had yielded to a prodigious blow which Sir Reginald struck it with a sharp fragment of rock, and the prisoner sprang up, at liberty. His next movement was to throw himself on his knees before the crucifixion, and solemnly to vow the erection of a chapel to Saint Guidobald, as near as possible to the scene of his miraculous deliverance. Then, rising, he embraced his deliverers in turn, with the most vehement protestations of eternal gratitude.

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My castles, lands, revenues, my heart and soul, and those of my whole race, are at your devotion, noblest knights!" he exclaimed. "The life which you have preserved is yours, and there is nothing I call mine, excepting the love I bear my beautiful mistress, which I would not gladly part withal to lighten me of the vast burden of gratitude which will else overwhelm my soul."

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"We shall not ask you to surrender that sole reservation among your treasures, my lord, more especially as it seems only a talisman of mishaps," replied the Hospitaller, with a sarcastic smile. But your thanks are more truly owed to the compassionate Dominican monk who guided us hither, than to us, to whom it was merely an exercise and a sport."

"A Dominican!" exclaimed the young baron, with an appearance of much surprise. "Surely, then, 'tis my guardian angel, sent in that disguise by my sweet patroness, Our Lady of the Church of Santa Maria Maggiore, to whom I also vow threescore torches of Turkish ambergris at Candlemas."

"Of Santa Maria Maggiore!" muttered the jester. "Ay, forsooth, because Our Lady's portrait there so nearly resembles his beautiful mistress."

"It had like, for I do hear that incomparable piece of Leonardo's was painted from your beauteous mother, Madame Vanozza," said Messer Niccolò, in a whisper to his companion, whose whole frame vibrated as if struck with some jarring association.

"Do you notice,-did you ever notice, my best Niccolò, how little I