The morn, so justly by Julia, and so impatiently awaited by the marquis, now arrived. The marriage was to be with a magnificence which demonstrated the joy it occasioned to the marquis. The castle was fitted up in a style of superior to any thing that had been before seen in it. The neighbouring nobility were invited to an entertainment which was to conclude with a splendid ball and supper, and the gates were to be thrown open to all who chose to partake of the of the marquis. At an early hour the duke, attended by a numerous , entered the castle. Ferdinand heard from his , where the rigour and the policy of the marquis still confined him, the loud of in the courtyard above, the rolling of the carriage wheels, and all the tumultuous which the entrance of the duke occasioned. He too well understood the cause of this , and it in him sensations resembling those which the criminal feels, when his ears are by the dreadful sounds that precede his execution. When he was able to think of himself, he wondered by what means the marquis would reconcile his absence to the guests. He, however, knew too well the dissipated character of the Sicilian nobility, to doubt that whatever story should be invented would be very readily believed by them; who, even if they knew the truth, would not suffer a discovery of their knowledge to interrupt the festivity which was offered them.
The marquis and marchioness received the duke in the outer hall, and conducted him to the saloon, where he partook of the prepared for him, and from thence to the . The marquis now withdrew to lead Julia to the altar, and Emilia was ordered to attend at the door of the chapel, in which the priest and a numerous company were already assembled. The marchioness, a to the of succeeding passions, in the near completion of her favorite scheme.—A disappointment, however, was prepared for her, which would at once crush the triumph of her and her pride. The marquis, on entering the prison of Julia, found it empty! His and indignation upon the discovery almost overpowered his reason. Of the servants of the castle, who were immediately summoned, he concerning her escape, with a mixture of fury and sorrow which left them no opportunity to reply. They had, however, no information to give, but that her woman had not appeared during the whole morning. In the prison were found the bridal habiliments which the marchioness herself had sent on the preceding night, together with a letter addressed to Emilia, which contained the following words:
'Adieu, dear Emilia; never more will you see your wretched sister, who flies from the cruel fate now prepared for her, certain that she can never meet one more dreadful.—In happiness or misery—in hope or despair—whatever may be your situation—still remember me with pity and affection. Dear Emilia, adieu!—You will always be the sister of my heart—may you never be the partner of my misfortunes!'
While the marquis was reading this letter, the marchioness, who supposed the delay occasioned by some from Julia, flew to the apartment. By her orders all the habitable parts of the castle were explored, and she herself assisted in the search. At length the intelligence was communicated to the chapel, and the confusion became universal. The priest quitted the altar, and the company returned to the saloon.
The letter, when it was given to Emilia, excited emotions which she found it impossible to disguise, but which did not, however, protect her from a suspicion that she was concerned in the transaction, her knowledge of which this letter appeared intended to .
The marquis immediately dispatched servants upon the fleetest horses of his stables, with directions to take different , and to every corner of the island in pursuit of the . When these had somewhat quieted his mind, he began to consider by what means Julia could have effected her escape. She had been confined in a small room in a remote part of the castle, to which no person had been admitted but her own woman and Robert, the servant of the marquis. Even Lisette had not been suffered to enter, unless accompanied by Robert, in whose room, since the night of the fatal discovery, the keys had been regularly deposited. Without them it was impossible she could have escaped: the windows of the apartment being barred and grated, and opening into an inner court, at a height from the ground. Besides, who could she depend upon for protection—or whither could she intend to fly for ?—The associates of her former elopement were unable to assist her even with advice. Ferdinand himself a prisoner, had been deprived of any means of with her, and Hippolitus had been carried lifeless on board a , which had immediately sailed for Italy.
Robert, to whom the keys had been , was by the marquis. He persisted in a simple and uniform declaration of his ; but as the marquis believed it impossible that Julia could have escaped without his knowledge, he was ordered into till he should confess the fact.
The pride of the duke was severely wounded by this elopement, which proved the excess of Julia's aversion, and compleated the disgraceful circumstances of his . The marquis had carefully from him her prior attempt at elopement, and her consequent ; but the truth now burst from disguise, and stood revealed with bitter . The duke, fired with indignation at the duplicity of the marquis, poured his in terms of proud and bitter ; and the marquis, by recent disappointment, was in no mood to restrain the impetuosity of his nature. He retorted with acrimony; and the consequence would have been serious, had not the friends of each party interposed for their . The disputants were at length reconciled; it was agreed to pursue Julia with united, and search; and that whenever she should be found, the should be solemnized without further delay. With the character of the duke, this conduct was consistent. His passions, by disappointment, and strengthened by , now defied the power of obstacle; and those considerations which would have operated with a more delicate mind to overcome its original , served only to encrease the violence of his.
Madame de Menon, who loved Julia with affection, was an interested observer of all that passed at the castle. The cruel fate to which the marquis his daughter she had severely , yet she could hardly rejoice to find that this had been avoided by elopement. She trembled for the future safety of her pupil; and her , which was thus first disturbed for the welfare of others, she was not soon suffered to recover.
The marchioness had long nourished a secret dislike to Madame de Menon, whose were a silent to her . The contrariety of their created in the marchioness an aversion which would have amounted to contempt, had not that dignity of which strongly characterized the manners of madame, compelled the former to fear what she wished to despise. Her conscience whispered her that the dislike was ; and she now rejoiced in the opportunity which seemed to offer itself of lowering the proud integrity of madame's character. Pretending, therefore, to believe that she had encouraged Ferdinand to disobey his father's commands, and had been accessary to the elopement, she accused her of these offences, and the marquis to her conduct. But the integrity of Madame de Menon was not to be questioned with . Without to answer the , she desired to resign an office of which she was no longer considered , and to quit the castle immediately. This the policy of the marquis would not suffer; and he was compelled to make such ample to madame, as induced her for the present to continue at the castle.
The news of Julia's elopement at length reached the ears of Ferdinand, whose joy at this event was equalled only by his surprize. He lost, for a moment, the sense of his own situation, and thought only of the escape of Julia. But his sorrow soon returned with accumulated force when he that Julia might then perhaps want that assistance which his confinement alone could prevent his affording her.
The servants, who had been sent in pursuit, returned to the castle without any satisfactory information. Week after week elapsed in fruitless search, yet the duke was in continuing the pursuit. Emissaries were dispatched to Naples, and to the several estates of the Count Vereza, but they returned without any satisfactory information. The count had not been heard of since he quitted Naples for Sicily.
During these enquiries a new subject of broke out in the castle of Mazzini. On the night so fatal to the hopes of Hippolitus and Julia, when the was , and all was still, a light was observed by a servant as he passed by the window of the great stair-case in the way to his , to through the before noticed in the southern buildings. While he stood observing it, it vanished, and presently reappeared. The former mysterious circumstances relative to these buildings rushed upon his mind; and fired with wonder, he roused some of his fellow servants to come and this phenomenon.
As they gazed in silent terror, the light disappeared, and soon after, they saw a small door belonging to the south tower open, and a figure bearing a light issue forth, which along the castle walls, was quickly lost to their view. Overcome with fear they hurried back to their , and all the late wonderful occurrences. They doubted not, that this was the figure seen by the lady Julia. The sudden change of Madame de Menon's apartments had not passed unobserved by the servants, but they now no longer hesitated to what to attribute the removal. They collected each various and circumstance attendant on this part of the ; and, comparing them with the present, their fears were confirmed, and their terror heightened to such a degree, that many of them resolved to quit the service of the marquis.
The marquis surprized at this sudden desertion, enquired into its cause, and learned the truth. Shocked by this discovery, he yet resolved to prevent, if possible, the ill effects which might be expected from a circulation of the report. To this end it was necessary to quiet the minds of his people, and to prevent their quitting his service. Having severely them for the idle they encouraged, he told them that, to prove the fallacy of their , he would lead them over that part of the castle which was the subject of their fears, and ordered them to attend him at the return of night in the north hall. Emilia and Madame de Menon, surprised at this procedure, awaited the issue in silent expectation.
The servants, in to the commands of the marquis, assembled at night in the north hall. The air of desolation which through the south buildings, and the circumstance of their having been for so many years shut up, would naturally tend to inspire ; but to these people, who firmly believed them to be the haunt of an unquiet spirit, terror was the predominant sentiment.
The marquis now appeared with the keys of these buildings in his hands, and every heart thrilled with wild expectation. He ordered Robert to precede him with a torch, and the rest of the servants following, he passed on. A pair of iron gates were unlocked, and they proceeded through a court, whose pavement was wildly overgrown with long grass, to the great door of the south fabric. Here they met with some difficulty, for the lock, which had not been turned for many years, was .
During this , the silence of expectation sealed the lips of all present. At length the lock yielded. That door which had not been passed for so many years, creaked heavily upon its hinges, and disclosed the hall of black marble which Ferdinand had formerly crossed. 'Now,' cried the marquis, in a tone of as he entered, 'expect to encounter the ghosts of which you tell me; but if you fail to conquer them, prepare to quit my service. The people who live with me shall at least have courage and ability sufficient to defend me from these spiritual attacks. All I is, that the enemy will not appear, and in this case your valour will go untried.'
No one dared to answer, but all followed, in silent fear, the marquis, who the great stair-case, and entered the gallery. 'Unlock that door,' said he, pointing to one on the left, 'and we will soon unhouse these ghosts.' Robert the key, but his hand shook so violently that he could not turn it. 'Here is a fellow,' cried the marquis, 'fit to encounter a whole legion of spirits. Do you, Anthony, take the key, and try your valour.'
'Please you, my lord,' replied Anthony, 'I never was a good one at unlocking a door in my life, but here is Gregory will do it.'—'No, my lord, an' please you,' said Gregory, 'here is Richard.'—'Stand off,' said the marquis, 'I will shame your , and do it myself.'
Saying this he turned the key, and was rushing on, but the door refused to yield; it shook under his hands, and seemed as if held by some person on the other side. The marquis was surprized, and made several efforts to move it, without effect. He then ordered his servants to burst it open, but, shrinking back with one accord, they cried, 'For God's sake, my lord, go no farther; we are satisfied here are no ghosts, only let us get back.'
'It is now then my turn to be satisfied,' replied the marquis, 'and till I am, not one of you shall stir. Open me that door.'—'My lord!'—'Nay,' said the marquis, assuming a look of stern authority—'dispute not my commands. I am not to be trifled with.'
They now stepped forward, and applied their strength to the door, when a loud and sudden noise burst from within, and through the hollow chambers! The men started back in affright, and were rushing headlong down the stair-case, when the voice of the marquis arrested their flight. They returned, with hearts palpitating with terror. 'Observe what I say,' said the marquis, 'and behave like men. Yonder door,' pointing to one at some distance, 'will lead us through other rooms to this chamber—unlock it therefore, for I will know the cause of these sounds.' Shocked at this determination, the servants again the marquis to go no farther; and to be obeyed, he was obliged to exert all his authority. The door was opened, and discovered a long narrow passage, into which they by a few steps. It led to a gallery that terminated in a back stair-case, where several doors appeared, one of which the marquis unclosed. A chamber appeared beyond, whose walls, decayed and discoloured by the damps, exhibited a proof of desertion.
They passed on through a long of lofty and noble apartments, which were in the same ruinous condition. At length they came to the chamber whence the noise had issued. 'Go first, Robert, with the light,' said the marquis, as they approached the door; 'this is the key.' Robert trembled—but obeyed, and the other servants followed in silence. They stopped a moment at the door to listen, but all was still within. The door was opened, and disclosed a large chamber, nearly resembling those they had passed, and on looking round, they discovered at once the cause of the alarm.—A part of the decayed roof was fallen in, and the stones and rubbish of the ruin falling against the gallery door, the passage. It was evident, too, whence the noise which occasioned their terror had arisen; the loose stones which were piled against the door being shook by the effort made to open it, had given way, and rolled to the floor.
After surveying the place, they returned to the back stairs, which they descended, and having pursued the several of a long passage, found themselves again in the marble hall. 'Now,' said the marquis, 'what think ye? What evil spirits these walls? Henceforth be cautious how ye credit the phantasms of idleness, for ye may not always meet with a master who will to undeceive ye.'—They acknowledged the goodness of the marquis, and themselves conscious of the error of their former suspicions, desired they might search no farther. 'I chuse to leave nothing to your imagination,' replied the marquis, 'lest hereafter it should betray you into a similar error. Follow me, therefore; you shall see the whole of these buildings.' Saying this, he led them to the south tower. They remembered, that from a door of this tower the figure which caused their alarm had issued; and notwithstanding the late assertion of their suspicions being removed, fear still operated powerfully upon their minds, and they would willingly have been excused from farther research. 'Would any of you chuse to explore this tower?' said the marquis, pointing to the broken stair-case; 'for myself, I am mortal, and therefore fear to venture; but you, who hold communion with disembodied spirits, may partake something of their nature; if so, you may pass without apprehension where the ghost has probably passed before.' They shrunk at this reproof, and were silent.
The marquis turning to a door on his right hand, ordered it to be unlocked. It opened upon the country, and the servants knew it to be the same whence the figure had appeared. Having relocked it, 'Lift that trapdoor; we will desend into the vaults,' said the marquis. 'What trapdoor, my Lord?' said Robert, with encreased ; 'I see none.' The marquis , and Robert, perceived a door, which lay almost concealed beneath the stones that had fallen from the stair-case above. He began to remove them, when the marquis suddenly turning—'I have already indulged your folly,' said he, 'and am weary of this business. If you are capable of receiving conviction from truth, you must now be convinced that these buildings are not the haunt of a supernatural being; and if you are , it would be useless to proceed. You, Robert, may therefore spare yourself the trouble of removing the rubbish; we will quit this part of the fabric.'
The servants obeyed, and the marquis locking the several doors, returned with the keys to the habitable part of the castle.
Every enquiry after Julia had hitherto proved fruitless; and the imperious nature of the marquis, heightened by the present vexation, became intolerably oppressive to all around him. As the hope of recovering Julia declined, his opinion that Emilia had assisted her to escape strengthened, and he upon her the severity of his unjust suspicions. She was ordered to confine herself to her apartment till her innocence should be cleared, or her sister discovered. From Madame de Menon she received a faithful sympathy, which was the sole relief of her oppressed heart. Her anxiety concerning Julia daily encreased, and was heightened into the most terrifying for her safety. She knew of no person in whom her sister could , or of any place where she could find protection; the most deplorable evils were therefore to be expected.
One day, as she was sitting at the window of her apartment, engaged in melancholy reflection, she saw a man riding towards the castle on full speed. Her heart beat with fear and expectation; for his haste made her suspect he brought intelligence of Julia; and she could scarcely refrain from breaking through the command of the marquis, and rushing into the hall to learn something of his errand. She was right in her ; the person she had seen was a spy of the marquis's, and came to inform him that the lady Julia was at that time concealed in a cottage of the forest of Marentino. The marquis, rejoiced at this intelligence, gave the man a liberal reward. He learned also, that she was accompanied by a young cavalier; which circumstance surprized him exceedingly; for he knew of no person except the Count de Vereza with whom she could have entrusted herself, and the count had fallen by his sword! He immediately ordered a party of his people to accompany the messenger to the forest of Marentino, and to suffer neither Julia nor the cavalier to escape them, on pain of death.
When the Duke de Luovo was informed of this discovery, he and obtained permission of the marquis to join in the pursuit. He immediately set out on the expedition, armed, and followed by a number of his servants. He resolved to encounter all hazards, and to practice the most desperate extremes, rather than fail in the object of his enterprize. In a short time he overtook the marquis's people, and they proceeded together with all possible speed. The forest lay several leagues distant from the castle of Mazzini, and the day was closing when they entered upon the borders. The thick of the trees spread a deeper shade around; and they were obliged to proceed with caution. Darkness had long fallen upon the earth when they reached the cottage, to which they were directed by a light that from afar among the trees. The duke left his people at some distance; and dismounted, and accompanied only by one servant, approached the cottage. When he reached it he stopped, and looking through the window, observed a man and woman in the habit of peasants seated at their supper. They were with earnestness, and the duke, hoping to obtain farther intelligence of Julia, endeavoured to listen to their . They were praising the beauty of a lady, whom the duke did not doubt to be Julia, and the woman much in praise of the cavalier. 'He has a noble heart,' said she; 'and I am sure, by his look, belongs to some great family.'—'Nay,' replied her companion, 'the lady is as good as he. I have been at Palermo, and ought to know what great folks are, and if she is not one of them, never take my word again. Poor thing, how she does take on! It made my heart ache to see her.'
They were some time silent. The duke knocked at the door, and enquired of the man who opened it concerning the lady and cavalier then in his cottage. He was assured there were no other persons in the cottage than those he then saw. The duke persisted in affirming that the persons he enquired for were there concealed; which the man being as in denying, he gave the signal, and his people approached, and surrounded the cottage. The peasants, terrified by this circumstance, confessed that a lady and cavalier, such as the duke described, had been for some time concealed in the cottage; but that they were now departed.
Suspicious of the truth of the latter assertion, the duke ordered his people to search the cottage, and that part of the forest contiguous to it. The search ended in disappointment. The duke, however, resolved to obtain all possible information concerning the fugitives; and assuming, therefore, a stern air, bade the peasant, on pain of instant death, discover all he knew of them.
The man replied, that on a very dark and stormy night, about a week before, two persons had come to the cottage, and desired shelter. That they were unattended; but seemed to be persons of consequence in disguise. That they paid very liberally for what they had; and that they departed from the cottage a few hours before the arrival of the duke.
The duke enquired concerning the course they had taken, and having received information, remounted his horse, and set forward in pursuit. The road lay for several leagues through the forest, and the darkness, and the probability of encountering banditti, made the journey dangerous. About the break of day they quitted the forest, and entered upon a wild and mountainous country, in which they travelled some miles without perceiving a hut, or a human being. No of appeared, and no sounds reached them but those of their horses feet, and the roaring of the winds through the deep forests that overhung the mountains. The pursuit was uncertain, but the duke resolved to .
They came at length to a cottage, where he repeated his enquiries, and learned to his satisfaction that two persons, such as he described, had stopped there for about two hours before. He found it now necessary to stop for the same purpose. Bread and milk, the only provisions of the place, were set before him, and his attendants would have been well , had there been sufficient of this fare to have satisfied their hunger.
Having dispatched an hasty meal, they again set forward in the way pointed out to them as the route of the fugitives. The country assumed a more aspect. Corn, vineyards, olives, and of mulberry-trees the hills. The vallies, luxuriant in shade, were frequently by the windings of a stream, and by clusters of half-seen cottages. Here the rising of a appeared above the thick trees with which they were surrounded; and there the wilds the travellers had passed, formed a bold and background to the scene.
To the questions put by the duke to the several persons he met, he received answers that encouraged him to proceed. At noon he halted at a village to refresh himself and his people. He could gain no intelligence of Julia, and was which way to chuse; but at length to pursue the road he was then in, and accordingly again set forward. He travelled several miles without meeting any person who could give the necessary information, and began to despair of success. The shadows of the mountains, and the fading light gave signals of declining day; when having gained the summit of a high hill, he observed two persons travelling on horseback in the plains below. On one of them he the habiliments of a woman; and in her air he thought he discovered that of Julia. While he stood surveying them, they looked towards the hill, when, as if urged by a sudden impulse of terror, they set off on full speed over the plains. The duke had no doubt that these were the persons he sought; and he, therefore, ordered some of his people to pursue them, and pushed his horse into a full . Before he reached the plains, the fugitives, round an hill, were lost to his view. The duke continued his course, and his people, who were a considerable way before him, at length reached the hill, behind which the two persons had disappeared. No traces of them were to be seen, and they entered a narrow between two ranges of high and savage mountains; on the right of which a rapid stream rolled along, and broke with its deep the solemn silence of the place. The shades of evening now fell thick, and the scene was soon in darkness; but to the duke, who was by a strong and impetuous passion, these were unimportant circumstances. Although he knew that the wilds of Sicily were frequently with banditti, his numbers made him fearless of attack. Not so his attendants, many of whom, as the darkness increased, testified emotions not very to their courage: starting at every bush, and believing it concealed a murderer. They endeavoured to the duke from , expressing of their being in the right route, and recommending the open plains. But the duke, whose eye had been to mark the flight of the fugitives, and who was not to be from his purpose, quickly repressed their arguments. They continued their course without meeting a single person.
The moon now rose, and afforded them a shadowy imperfect view of the surrounding objects. The was gloomy and vast, and not a human habitation met their eyes. They had now lost every trace of the fugitives, and found themselves bewildered in a wild and savage country. Their only remaining care was to themselves from so forlorn a situation, and they listened at every step with anxious attention for some sound that might discover to them the haunts of men. They listened in vain; the stillness of night was undisturbed but by the wind, which broke at in low and hollow murmurs from among the mountains.
As they proceeded with silent caution, they perceived a light break from among the rocks at some distance. The duke hesitated whether to approach, since it might probably proceed from a party of the banditti with which these mountains were said to be infested. While he hesitated, it disappeared; but he had not advanced many steps when it returned. He now perceived it to issue from the mouth of a , and cast a bright reflection upon the overhanging rocks and .
He dismounted, and followed by two of his people, leaving the rest at some distance, moved with slow and silent steps towards the cave. As he drew near, he heard the sound of many voices in high . Suddenly the uproar ceased, and the following words were sung by a clear and voice:
SONG
Pour the rich libation high;
The sparkling cup to Bacchus fill;
His joys shall dance in ev'ry eye,
And chace the forms of future ill!
Quick the magic steal
O'er the fancy-kindling brain.
Warm the heart with social ,
And song and laughter .
Then visions of pleasure shall float on our sight,
While light bounding our spirits shall flow;
And the god shall impart a fine sense of delight
Which in vain sober mortals would know.
The last verse was repeated in loud chorus. The duke listened with astonishment! Such social merriment amid a scene of such savage wildness, appeared more like than reality. He would not have hesitated to pronounce this a party of banditti, had not the of expression preserved in the song appeared unattainable by men of their class.
He had now a full view of the cave; and the moment which convinced him of his error served only to encrease his surprize. He , by the light of a fire, a party of banditti seated within the deepest of the cave round a rude kind of table formed in the rock. The table was spread with provisions, and they were regaling themselves with great eagerness and joy. The of the men exhibited a strange mixture of fierceness and sociality; and the duke could almost have imagined he beheld in these robbers a band of the early Romans before knowledge had civilized, or luxury had them. But he had not much time for ; a sense of his danger bade him fly while to fly was yet in his power. As he turned to depart, he observed two saddle-horses grazing upon the herbage near the mouth of the cave. It instantly occurred to him that they belonged to Julia and her companion. He hesitated, and at length determined to linger awhile, and listen to the conversation of the robbers, hoping from thence to have his doubts resolved. They talked for some time in a strain of high , and recounted in many of their exploits. They described also the behaviour of several people whom they had robbed, with highly ludicrous , and with much rude humour, while the cave re-echoed with loud bursts of laughter and applause. They were thus engaged in tumultuous merriment, till one of them cursing the of their late adventure, but praising the beauty of a lady, they all lowered their voices together, and seemed as if debating upon a point interesting to them. The passions of the duke were roused, and he became certain that it was Julia of whom they had spoken. In the first impulse of feeling he drew his sword; but the number of his , restrained his fury. He was turning from the cave with a design of summoning his people, when the light of the fire glittering upon the bright blade of his weapon, caught the eye of one of the banditti. He started from his seat, and his comrades instantly rising in , discovered the duke. They rushed with loud vociferation towards the mouth of the cave. He endeavoured to escape to his people; but two of the banditti mounting the horses which were grazing near, quickly overtook and seized him. His dress and air proclaimed him to be a person of distinction; and, rejoicing in their prospect of plunder, they forced him towards the cave. Here their comrades awaited them; but what were the emotions of the duke, when he discovered in the person of the principal robber his own son! who, to escape the severity of his father, had fled from his castle some years before, and had not been heard of since.
He had placed himself at the head of a party of banditti, and, pleased with the liberty which till then he had never tasted, and with the power which his new situation afforded him, he became so much attached to this wild and lawless mode of life, that he determined never to quit it till death should dissolve those ties which now made his rank only oppressive. This event seemed at so great a distance, that he seldom allowed himself to think of it. Whenever it should happen, he had no doubt that he might either resume his rank without danger of discovery, or might his present conduct as a frolic which a few acts of would easily excuse. He knew his power would then place him beyond the reach of , in a country where the people are accustomed to subordination, and seldom dare to the actions of the nobility.
His sensations, however, on discovering his father, were not very pleasing; but proclaiming the duke, he protected him from farther .
With the duke, whose heart was a stranger to the softer affections, indignation the place of feeling. His pride was the only passion by the discovery; and he had the rashness to express the indignation, which the conduct of his son had excited, in terms of unrestrained invective. The banditti, inflamed by the opprobium with which he loaded their order, threatened instant punishment to his ; and the authority of Riccardo could hardly restrain them within the limits of forbearance.
The menaces, and at length of the duke, to prevail with his son to abandon his present way of life, were equally ineffectual. Secure in his own power, Riccardo laughed at the first, and was insensible to the latter; and his father was compelled to the attempt. The duke, however, boldly and accused him of having and a lady and cavalier, his friends, at the same time describing Julia, for whose liberation he offered large rewards. Riccardo denied the fact, which so much the duke, that he drew his sword with an intention of it in the breast of his son. His arm was arrested by the surrounding banditti, who half unsheathed their swords, and stood suspended in an attitude of menace. The fate of the father now hung upon the voice of the son. Riccardo raised his arm, but instantly dropped it, and turned away. The banditti their weapons, and stepped back.
Riccardo solemnly swearing that he knew nothing of the persons described, the duke at length became convinced of the truth of the assertion, and departing from the cave, rejoined his people. All the impetuous passions of his nature were roused and inflamed by the discovery of his son in a situation so wretchedly disgraceful. Yet it was his pride rather than his virtue that was hurt; and when he wished him dead, it was rather to save himself from disgrace, than his son from the real of . He had no means of him; to have attempted it by force, would have been at this time the excess of temerity, for his attendants, though numerous, were undisciplined, and would have fallen certain victims to the power of a savage and banditti.
With thoughts in fierce and conflict, he pursued his journey; and having lost all trace of Julia, sought only for an habitation which might shelter him from the night, and afford necessary refreshment for himself and his people. With this, however, there appeared little hope of meeting.