ANDANTINO. ing of waves fell upon her ear, and as she emerged from the woody way, the dark and lonely sea-tower she sought, stood within bow shot; its sharp outline strongly depicted against the clear blue horizon. As she advanced, the soil lost its firmness, and became of a crumbling consistency; then loose, stony, and sandy; sparkling against the moonbeams like a shower of glittering star-points. Arrived at Il Torre, she walked round it, in order that she might the better judge in what part her husband was confined; and at length, espying a little light, whose feeble rays were scarcely perceptible through the brightness surrounding herself, conjectured this to be his prison. With a view to ascertain whether her surmise were wellgrounded, she began to sing part of a serenade, which at that time was in every peasant's mouth: the words and air ran thus -8 P. Он wea-гy are my feet, love, That ANDANTINO. After repeating this a second time, she despaired of being heard, and was fearful the person within could not be Lysander, otherwise he would have recognised her voice, and found some method to convince her that he did so. But while still lingering beneath, a dark object obscured the light, a hand was thrust through the narrow-grated window, and the voice of Lysander answered hers with the continuation of the simple air she had began Он press my ach-ing brows, love, And Joyful sounds! he lives then, she has discovered his prison and may save him! Her resolution was immediately taken, and going round to the low door, she knocked stoutly with her staff, and demanded admittance. But in vain; nothing but the echo of her own blows upon the gate, and the hishing of the re treating waves upon the shingly beach, were to be heard. Disappointed, but not disheartened, she determined to abide where she was until day-break, hoping that some one would then appear to whom she could relate her feigned tale. Returning to the window that she might be near her treasure, she perceived a niche in the wall, and wrapping her cloak round her, seated herself within, a faithful sentinel to her heart's monarch. She meant not to have slept, but our body is still too powerful for our spiritual faculties, and too often encumbers them with its grossness and inability. From her slumber, she was awakened by being roughly shaken on the shoulder by a man, whom upon opening her eyes, she recognized for the cavalier of the wood, who had rescued her from Stephano. " "How now! boy, what are you lurking about here for? What's your name?" "Name, Signor, name.' Aye, boy, is that such an uncommon demand?"66 Felice, Signor, Felice is my name." "Felice, hem! and whence come you?" "From Padua, Signor, from Signor Francesco; but arriving here rather late last night, I failed to make any one hear, although I beat at the gate loud enough to have raised the dead; so, with sheer weariness, I fell asleep where you found me: but faith, Signor, if you wish me to relate my message correctly, you must admit me to Il Torre, for I begin to feel that this lodging al fresco, so near the sea-side, has somewhat sharpened my appetite. "Admit you to Il Torre! are you not afraid, boy, to venture into such a black looking, prison-like cage?" |