and Valeria?-She has deserted us for another world, but thou and I will never part in this.'

He wiped away a drop which hung upon his eye-lid.

Psha! 'twas not a tear! the night wind is very sharp and bitter, and makes the eyes water."

And as he spoke the unfortunate (for such by his discourse and situation he appeared to be) dashed his forehead against the earth, and his lips were already unclosed to curse the hour which gave him being, when he suddenly seemed to recollect himself. He rested his head on

his elbow, and sang mournfully the burden of a song, which had often delighted his childhood in the castle of his ancestors. 'Right!' he said to himself; Were I to sink under the weight of my destiny, I should be myself no longer.'

At that moment he heard a rustling at no great distance. He looked around and in an adjacent street, which the moon faintly enlightened he perceived a tall figure wrapt in a cloak, pacing slowly backwards and forwards.

'Tis the hand of God, which hath guided him hither-Yes!—I'll—I'll—beg !— Better to play the beggar in Venice, than

the villain in Naples; for the beggar's heart may bear nobly though covered by rags!'

He said, sprang from the ground, and hastened towards the adjoining street. Just as he entered it at one end, he perceived another person advancing through the other, of whose approach the first was no sooner aware, than he hastily retired into the shadow of a piazza, as anxious to conceal myself.

'What can this mean?' thought our mendicant. Is yon eves-dropper one of death's unlicensed ministers? Has he received the retain-fee of some impatient heir, who pants to possess the wealth of the unlucky knave who comes strolling along yonder so careless and unconscious? -Be not so confident honest friend! I'm at your elbow."

He retired farther into the shade, and silently and slowly drew near the lurker, who stirred not from his place. The stranger had already passed them by, when the concealed villain sprang suddenly upon him, raised his right hand in which a poniard was gleaming, and be fore he could give the blow, was felled to the earth by the arm of the mendicant.

The stranger turned hastily towards

them; the bravo started up and fled; the beggar smiled.

How now?' cried the stranger; 'what is the meaning of all this?'

'Oh, 'tis a mere jest, Signor, which has only preserved your life.'

What! my life? how so?'

'The honest gentleman who has but just taken to his heels, stole behind you with true cat-like cunning, and had already raised his dagger, when I saw him -You owe your life to me, and the service is richly worth one small piece of money! Give me some alms, signor, for on my soul I am hungry, thirsty, and cold.'

'Hence, scurvy companion! I know you and your tricks too well. 'Tis all a concerted scheme between you; a design upon my purse, an attempt to procure both money and thanks under the lame pretence of having saved me from an assassin--Go, fellow, go! practise these dainty devices on the Doge's credulity, if you will; but with Buonaretti you stand no chance, believe me.'

The wretched starving beggar stood like one petrified, and gazed on the taunting stranger.

No, as I have a soul to save, signor, 'tis no lic that I tell you!-'tis the plain

truth; have compassion on me, or I die this night of hunger.'

Begone this instant, I say, or by yon

heaven...

The unfeeling man here drew out a concealed pistol, and pointed it at his preserver.

'Merciful heaven! and is it thus that services are acknowledged in Venice?' The watch is at no great distance; I need only raise my voice, and . . .' 'Hell and confusion! do you take me for a robber then?'

Make no noise, I tell you! Be quiet, you had better!"

'Hark you, signor! Buonaretti is your name, I think? I will write it down, as belonging to the second scoundrel whom I have met in Venice.'

He paused for a moment, then continuing in a dreadful voice And when thou, Buonaretti, shalt hereafter hear the name of Aballino ... tremble !'

Abællino turned away and left the hard. hearted Venetiau.

CHAPTER II.

The Banditti.

AND now rushed the unfortunate wildly through the streets of Venice; he rail. ed at fortune; he laughed and cursed by turns; yet sometimes he suddenly stood still, seemed as if pondering on some great and wondrous enterprise, and then again rushed onwards, as if hastening to its execution.

Propped against a column of the Signoria, he counted over the whole sum of his misfortunes. His wandering eyeballs seemed to seek comfort; but they found it not.

'Fate,' he at length exclaimed in a paroxysm of despair; Fate has condemned me to be either the wildest of adventurers or one at the relation of whose crinses the world must shudder! To astonish is my destiny: Rosalvo can know no medi. um: Rosalvo can never act like common