CHAPTER V.

Solitude.

ABELLINO had, already passed six. weeks in Venice, and yet (either from want of opportunity, or of inclination) he had suffered his daggers to remain idle in their sheaths. This proceeded partly from his not being as yet sufficiently acquainted with the windings and turnings, the by-lanes and prevate alleys of the town; and partly because he had hitherto found no customers, whose murderous designs stood in need of his helping hand.

This want of occupation was irksome to him in the extreme: he panted for action, and was condemned to indolence.

With a melancholy heart did he roam through Venice, and number every step with a sigh. He frequented the public places, the taverns, gardens, and every scene which was dedicated to amusement. But no where could he find what he sought tranquillity,

One evening he had loitered beyond the other visitants in a public garden, situated on one of the most beautiful of the Venetian islands. He strolled from arbour to arbour, threw himself down on the seashore, and watched the play of the waves, as they sparkled in the moonshine.

'Four years ago,' said he, with a sigh, 'just such an heavenly evening was it, that stole from Valeria's lips the first kiss, and heard from Valeria's lips for the first time the avowal, that she loved me.'

He was silent, and abandoned himself to the melancholy recollections which thronged before his mind's eye.

Every thing around him was so calm, so silent! Not a single zephyr sighed among the blades of grass; but a storm raged in the bosom of Abællino.

'Four years ago could I have believed that a time would come when I should play the part of a bravo in Venice! Oh! Where are they flown, the golden hopes and plans of glory, which smiled upon me in the happy days of my youth ?—I am a bravo; to be a beggar were to be some thing better.

"When my good old father in the enthusiasm of paternal vanity so often threw

his arms about my neck, and cried--' My boy thou wilt render the name of Rosalvo ́ glorious!'--God, as I listened, how was my blood on fire!-What thought I not, what felt I not, what that was good and great did I not promise myself to do!The father is dead, and the son is Venetian bravo!-When my preceptors praised and admired me, and, carried away by the warmth of their feelings, clapped my shoulder, and exclaimed

... a

count thou wilt immortalise the ancient name of Rosalvo!' Ah, in those blessed moments of sweet delirium, how bright and beauteous stood futurity before me,and when happy in the performance of some good deed, I returned home, saw Valeria ready to receive me with open arms, and when, while she clasped me to her bosom, I heard her softly whisper,'Oh! who could forbear to love the great Rosalvo!'--Oh, God! Away, away, glorious visions of the past! To look on you drives me mad!"

He was again silent; he bit his lip in fury, raised one emaciated hand to heaven, striking his forehead violently with the other.

'An assassin ... the slave of cowards

upon

....

and rascals... the ally of the greatest villains that the Venetian sun ever shines Such is now the great Rosalvo!--Fye! oh! fye on't! And yet to this wretched lot hath fate condemned me!' Suddenly he sprang from the ground after a long silence; his eyes sparkled; his countenance was changed; he drew

his breath easier.

'Yes! by heaven, yes! Great as count Rosalvo, that can I be no longer; but from being great as a Venetian bravo, what prevents me? Souls in bliss!' he exclaimed, and sank on his knee, while he raised his folded hands to heaven, as if about to pronounce the most awful oath; Spirit of my father! spirit of Valeria! I will not become unworthy of you! Hear me, if your ghosts are permitted to wander near me, hear me swear, that the bravo shall not disgrace his origin, nor ren der vain the hopes which soothed you in the bitterness of death! No! as sure as I live, I will be the only dealer in this miserable trade, and posterity shall be compelled to honor that name, which my actions shall render illustrious.'

He bowed his forehead till it touched the earth, and his tears flowed plenteously. Vast conceptions swelled his soul: