Signor Luigi leaves home to-night for Vienna, well and good-the passport deposed with us for our visa is really for his own use, they have misinformed the Office, and he means well; but let him stay over to-night-there has been the pretence we suspect-the accounts of his corresponding and holding intelligence with the Carbonari are correct-we arrest him at once-to-morrow comes Venice-and presently, Spielberg. Bluphocks makes the signal sure enough! That is he, entering the turret with his mother, no doubt. III.-Evening. Inside the Turret. LUIGI and his Mother entering. Mother. If there blew wind, you'd hear a long sigh, easing The utmost heaviness of music's heart. Luigi. Here in the archway? Mother. Where the echo is made—on the ridge. Luigi. Oh no, no-in further, Here surely, then. ... How plain the tap of my heel as I leaped up! Up and show faces all of you!" All of you!” That's the king's dwarf with the scarlet comb; now hark Come down and meet your fate! Hark-"Meet your fate!" Mother. Let him not meet it, my Luigi-do not Go to his City! putting crime aside, Half of these ills of Italy are feigned Your Pellicos and writers for effect, Write for effect. Luigi. Hush! say A. writes, and B. Mother. These A's and B's write for effect, I say. Then, evil is in its nature loud, while good Is silent-you hear each petty injury— None of his daily virtues; he is old, Luigi. They teach Others to kill him-me-and, if I fail, Mother. Ah, -You, Luigi? will you let me tell you what you are? Luigi. Why not? Oh, the one thing you fear to hirt, You may assure yourself I say and say Ever to myself; at times-nay, even as now What constitutes one sane or otherwise? Were suffering; then I ponder-“ I am rich, There's springing and melody and giddiness, And earth seems in a truce with me, and heaven Cheerfully up the scaffold-steps: I go This evening, mother! Mother. But mistrust yourself Mistrust the judgment you pronounce on him. Luigi. Oh, there I feel-am sure that I am right! Mother. Mistrust your judgment, then, of the mere means Of this wild enterprise: say you are right,— How should one in your state e'er bring to pass Luigi. Escape-to even wish that, would spoil all! The dying is best part of it. Too much Have I enjoyed these fifteen years of mine, Was not life pressed down, running o'er with joy, God must be glad one loves his world so much— Those crescent moons with notched and burning rims In March, a double rainbow stopped the storm May's warm, slow, yellow moonlit summer nights- Mother. (He will not go!) Luigi. You smile at me! 'Tis true, Voluptuousness, grotesqueness, ghastliness, Environ my devotedness as quaintly As round about some antique altar wreathe The rose festoons, goats' horns, and oxen's skulls. Mother. See now: you reach the city-you must cross His threshold-how? Luigi. VOL. I. Oh, that's if we conspired! 14 Then would come pains in plenty, as you guess- No, no-I have a handsome dress packed up- In I shall march-for you may watch your life out Take the great gate, and walk (not saunter) on Thro' guards and guards- -I have rehearsed it all |