when bread and fruit and a bottle of light wine were placed before him. In one corner of the room sate a dark sullen-looking man, whose air appeared somewhat above that of a peasant, drinking; another sang a romance to a few listeners at the door of the house; and two noble-looking men, who appeared to be foreigners, were conversing at a table near him.

6

'Sing that song again, Stephano,' said one of the party at the outside of the inn, and I will give thee some music to it:' and upon this he took a violin out of a small bag that he held in his hand, and proceeded to draw from it some exquisite tones. That fellow has a fine hand,' said one of the gentlemen near Rodrigo in Spanish. By St. Jago he would beat the nightingale. Listen!'-And the fellow played until the hearing of Rodrigo was entranced. He had heard fine music in Spain, and was painfully subject to its power. Now he listened to the masterly capriccios of the musician, and then to the tender symphony, till at last the song commenced, and the words riveted his attention. It told of the Beauty of Padua,'- her faults, her snares, her bewitching eyes, and her voice sweeter than music, which none had been ever known to resist. It spoke of her as a Calypso a Circea creature who outwent all sculpture, and painting, the flights of passion, and the dreams of poets; and then some plaintive burthen followed, which it was difficult to understand. But a second verse succeeding, the student listened more attentively, and caught words like these:

'Tell me where her beauty lies!

In her lips, or in her eyes?

In her bosom white and deep,
Where her favor'd lovers sleep;
In her love-enchaining smile?
In her truth, or in her guile?

and then the burthen was repeated, and the ditty closed.

'And, prythee, who is the beauty of Padua ?' said the elder Spaniard, when the song was over.

'He means Cornelia,' replied the landlord of the inn (a little stout humorous-looking man) who had just entered the room.

'I do not know her, friend,' retorted the stranger 'who is she? I never heard of more than one of that name, and she died long ago.'

'And pray who was she, if I may be so bold?' said the host. We have only one of that name who

has been remarkable.'

'She was a famous woman, and mother of the Gracchi!'

'Oh! a relation perhaps. But this lady has no children: plenty of lovers, though.'

'And now, our good host,' said the Spaniard, 'sit down (here, upon this bench,) and help us to drink some of this excellent wine. Ha! 't has a rare flavor, i' faith. This is your true Montepulciano ——'

'You are a judge, Signior,' interrupted the landlord. 'No, no; I have tasted the true grape in my time, though, I confess. This wine reminds me of some which I drank at the Prince of C's, at Naples. It must be of the same vintage. But, to leave that subject - prythee sit down by me, friend, and tell us, without more ado, who your Cornelia is."

The host bowed, and obeyed. He tasted his own wine like a landlord, and spoke to the following effect:

6

'About five-and-twenty years ago, Signiors, said he, the large palace, which you will see on entering Padua, (you will know it by the fountain of lions,) belonged to a Cardinal of the family of the Minotti. He was of a proud and tyrannous temper, Sirs, as your high-born gentles frequently are; but he possessed large revenues, a wonderful stock of learning, and, as it was said, expected one day or other to be Pope. He had not always been a churchman, however; but, in his early days, had followed the trade of fighting; and had, in fact, signalized himself a little in public battles, and considerably in private disputes. In truth he was of a quarrelsome nature; and being an expert swordsman, was much respected by gallants in general. He had a friend however; one— one

'Antonio Zetti,' said the stranger in the peasant's dress.

6

You are right Signior,' returned the host; Zetti was the name, as I recollect, - Antonio Zetti. Well, it so chanced that this gallant fell in love with the same lady to whom the count Minotti was then attached for the great Cardinal, Sirs, was then only a Count.'

By St. Jago! only' — said the Spaniard.

'Yes, Signior,' replied the landlord, 'nothing more, I assure you.'

' And was not that enough?'

'Oh, no, Signior, a mere nothing. We think nothing of people here unless they belong to the

church.'

'Why was my crown not shaven, Guzman?' said the Spaniard, aside, to his countryman.

Why, what an ass was I to carve my dinner with a sword. I might have been a scarlet king here, and poisoned the ear of the old man of the mountains.'

'Well, Sir, the Count Minotti and his friend quarrelled (about the lady) and fought; and Antonio

Was killed. I see it to the end,' said the Spaniard. 'Yes, Sir, he was killed, as you say, and left a fine spring morning behind him. They met in the outskirts of Rome, (where the Count then lived,) and the first lunge cured the Signior Zetti of his passion.'

' And the lady married the victor? hey!' added the Spaniard. The women are fond of laurels, I know, and a little blood will never spoil a green leaf.'

'No, Sir; she was obstinate and refused the Count altogether; an extraordinary case, Sir. He was rich, six feet high, and a soldier; but, somehow or other, she rejected all. Upon her refusal, the Count threatened extremely to kill himself. But he didn't. No, Sir, he was too much of a soldier to die out of a brawl. On the contrary, he lived on, and pretty freely too, as report says; and, in the course of time, he fell in love again I forget with whom - but the lady died, and then he gave up his wild courses, and left the army, and, finally, entered a convent of Dominican monks. There he remained some years; and his talents being perceived, (and his penances noised about,) he eventually became its superior. From this height it was but one step to a bishopric, and another to a cardinal's hat. These things are not difficult, Signiors, when Fortune is in the mood to serve us. About this time the chief

of his family died, and his Eminence removed to the great Leone palace near Padua, bringing with him a female child. The girl was brought up in all manne of luxury she had foreign masters, was taught music, and painting, and the languages, and, in short, came to be considered quite a prodigy amongst the young women here. She was beautiful, too, as I have heard said, and was thought to resemble a celebrated picture painted by Leonardo da Vinci, (a famous artist in his time,) a Florentine. However, all this lasted only eighteen or nineteen years, or thereabouts, when the old Cardinal died, and left this girl who was generally supposed to be his child—a beggar.'

'That was a beggarly action of my lord the Cardinal,' said the elder Spaniard. But what became of the girl?'

Why, Signior, the people hereabouts, finding that she could establish no claim as his daughter, began to conjecture that she might have been his mistress, and shunned her accordingly.'

6

'Tis a good-natured world,' muttered the Spaniard. Yes, Signior,' returned the host, 'it takes care of its morals. Well, about this time, and while the young girl, who was called Cornelia, was in great distress, (for she had failed in procuring scholars in music and painting and other arts of which she was mistress, owing to the strict virtue of the families here,) - about this time, comes a young gallant to the University, a handsome spark, Signiors, (about my height, or rather better,) who conquered her heart and her person at once.'

'So! what was his name?'