University of Virginia Library

1. CHAPTER I.

It was a summer's night in Italy. The
still heavens were tinted with the softest
blue, amid which the stars burned like eyes
of intelligence. The pure-rayed planets,
seen through the translucent atmosphere,
seemed near and low as they shed their
gentle lustre down. The young moon was
just venturing her bark upon the eastern
verge of the sky, a glittering star hanging
above its brow. Music rose at intervals
upon the soft, evening wind, and the voices
of nightingales rung melodiously from many
a shaded grove and palace garden. It was
a night in Rome! As the moon rose above
the level horizon of the Champagna, she
touched with a trembling line of gold the
rippling waves of the Tiber, and enriched
with amber lights the lofty crosses and towers
of the imperial city. Among the numerous
casements into which its soft lustre penetrated,
was that of the lovely Countess,
Isabel di Valoni. It was the eve of her bridal
with the Prince of B—. She was not
twenty-four, and yet had been two years
widowed. Her attendants had just left her,
and she was sitting alone by the casement,
looking upon the Tiber, which flowed sparkling
by at the foot of the gardens. Around
her rose, and extended, terrace and balcony,
and towers and palaces, all being recreated
from darkness, touch by touch, by the pencil
of the advancing moon. Yet she heeded
nothing of the lavish beauty of the scene,
nor did the notes of far off music upon the
water mellowed into heavenly harmony by
the distance touch her ear. Her face was
pale and tearful, and rested upon the fair
hand which looked like alabaster contrasted
with the raven tresses that fell across the delicately
veined wrist.

Isabel di Valoni was the most beautiful
woman in Rome—nay, in Italy! kings had
bent the knee before the shrine of her smiles,
and princes were willing attendants of her
footsteps! Yet now, alone, with glittering
tears stealing slowly across her cheek, her

heavily lidded eyes cast down, and an air of
touching sorrow pervading her whole person,
she reclines by the moonlit casement.
To-morrow is also to be her bridal night!
and she marries the man who is her heart's
choice; yet she is unhappy. Fear, as well
as grief, is couched in the expression of her
features! Her bosom heaves at intervals
with agitation, and her hands convulsively
clasp! At length she gives utterance to her
thoughts:

`Shall I thus weakly give way to wretchedness
for an idle dream! Yet thrice have
I dreamed of the fearful doom! thrice have
these words rung in my ears in my sleep,
from an unseen voice.

`Beware, Isabel di Valoni! the death of
Medici Valoni hath not unwedded thee!
Thou art his bride, living or dead!'

`Alas, what fearful doom hangs over my
head! can this dream be sent by Heaven to
warn me of danger! Can Medici, my deceased
husband, have power thus to bind
me! It is too horrible! Defend me, holy
saints, from evil!'

After bending before her crucifix a moment,
she rose and left the casement, to
seek relief in the society of her friends,
from the fears that weighed down her
soul.