ade no answer.

"And ah!" she resumed, with an enchanting and child-like smile, "if thou
wouldst give me a charm against the pestilence! see, I will take it from
thee." And she laid her hand on a small, antique amulet that he wore on
his breast.

"Thou knowest how often this has made me jealous of the past; surely
some love-gift, Zanoni? But no, thou didst not love the giver as thou
dost me. Shall I steal thine amulet?"

"Infant!" said Zanoni, tenderly; "she who placed this round my neck
deemed it indeed a charm, for she had superstitions like thyself; but
to me it is more than the wizard's spell,--it is the relic of a sweet
vanished time when none who loved me could distrust."

He said these words in a tone of such melancholy reproach that it went
to the heart of Viola; but the tone changed into a solemnity which
chilled back the gush of her feelings as he resumed: "And this, Viola,
one day, perhaps, I will transfer from my breast to thine; yes, whenever
thou shalt comprehend me better,--WHENEVER THE LAWS OF OUR BEING SHALL
BE THE SAME!"

He moved on gently. They returned slowly home; but fear still was in the
heart of Viola, though she strove to shake it off. Italian and Catholic
she was, with all the superstitions of land and sect. She stole to
her chamber and prayed before a little relic of San Gennaro, which
the priest of her house had given to her in childhood, and which had
accompanied her in all her wanderings. She had never deemed it
possible to part with it before. Now, if there was a charm against the
pestilence, did she fear the pestilence for herself? The next morning,
when he awoke, Zanoni found the relic of the saint suspended with his
mystic amulet round his neck.

"Ah! thou wilt have nothing to fear from the pestilence now," said
Viola, between tears and smiles; "and when thou wouldst talk to me again
as thou didst last night, the saint shall rebuke thee."

Well, Zanoni, can there ever indeed be commune of thought and spirit,
except with equals?

Yes, the plague broke out,--the island home must be abandoned. Mighty
Seer, THOU HAST NO POWER TO SAVE THOSE WHOM THOU LOVEST! Farewell, thou
bridal roof!--sweet resting-place from care, farewell! Climates as soft
may greet ye, O lovers,--skies as serene, and waters as blue and calm;
but THAT TIME,--can it ever more return? Who shall say that the heart
does not change with the scene,--the place where we first dwelt with the
beloved one? Every spot THE