centia, who had been stolen from him in her infancy; and he now felt her loss all the more bitterly, on account of the hopes that had been awakened within him by the night-adventure of Antonio.
Next morning Pietro set out on his journey accompanied by the faithful Berecynth; and Antonio was left alone in the great house, every room of which was locked. When night came, sleep was a stranger to his eyes: that bewildering figure he bad caught a glimpse of, stood for ever before him: its presence had shaken his very soul—yet he now contemplated it with feelings of delight. He felt that he had lost all power over his thoughts, and that images he could not grasp were incessantly flitting before his fancy.
The nightingale was singing on the outside of the window; he looked out, and saw that it was raining hard: accordingly, he took the bird in, and placed it on the top of an old cupboard. While he was in the act of stretching forth to put down the cage more securely, the chain broke by which the miniature of Crescentia was suspended round his neck, and the picture, rolling towards the wall, got behind the cupboard. The youth stooped down to search for the beloved token; but with all his groping he could not recover it from beneath the huge lumbering press. Fate seemed determined to persecute him in the small as well as in the great occurrences of his life. He endeavoured to drag the cupboard from its place, but found that it was fastened to the wall. His impetuosity now knew no bounds. He seized an old iron bar which he found in the antechamber, and laboured with all his might to force the press from its position; it at length gave way, and was torn from its fastenings with a loud crash. By degrees, he so far removed it as to be able to insert himself between it and the wall; and, on looking down, he beheld his beloved picture. It lay on the broad handle of a door which opened into the wall. He placed the miniature in his bosom, and turned the handle; the door opened, and, after he had pushed the old press somewhat further out of his way, he perceived that it stood at the top of a flight of steps leading down into deep darkness. He commenced the descent, which appeared as if it wound away into some of the lower apartments. At length he came to the bottom of the stairs; and, after groping about for some time in the dark, his hand came in contact with an iron ring, which he pulled, and immediately the wall opened, while a flood of purple light flowed in upon him. Before entering, he examined the door, and found that it opened by a spring, which was touched whenever the ring was pulled. He closed the door behind him, and stepped forwards softly into the chamber. A rich crimson carpet covered the floor; heavy hangings of purple silk curtained the windows, and scarlet cloth decorated with gold hung around a bed which stood in the apartment. Profound repose reigned around; no noise from the street could reach that quiet chamber, the windows of which looked out upon a small garden. With suspended breath the youth stood in the middle of the chamber and listened—at length he thought he heard the respiration as if of a person sleeping. With beating heart he approached the bed, to see whether any one was in it; and, drawing aside the curtains, what was his consternation, when be beheld before him, pale as a corpse, but sleeping sweetly, the image of his own beloved Crescentia! Her bosom rose and fell visibly, and a tender bloom began to suffuse her pail lips, which were stirred by an almost imperceptible smile. Her hair was dishevelled, and fell in heavy tresses down her shoulders. For a long time Antonio stood entranced; but at length, driven by a supernatural impulse, he seized her white hand, and endeavoured to awaken the fair sleeper. She uttered a piercing cry; in terror he let go her arm. which sunk, as if wearied, on the cushion. After a time, however, the bands of her charmed sleep gave way, and like clouds, that, stirred by the light morning wind, rise and sink in wavering wreathe among the mountain valleys, she began to move—again she relapsed into her trance, and again she strove to draw herself forth out of the captivity of slumber. She raised her arms to her head, and the sleeves of her dress falling back, disclosed their fair proportions; she folded her hands, and again let them drop on the coverlet; she lifted up her head, and her neck shone fair in the rosy light, but still her eyes were closed, and her hair fell
