le as if shaken by a spectral
hand. The white-leaved aspens quiver. An icy wind sweeps down the
mountain-sides. A flash of lightning shoots across the sky. Then the
storm bursts. Thunder rolls, and cracks, and crashes; as if the brazen
gates of heaven clashed to and fro. The peasants fly, driving their
cattle before them. The pig's run grunting homeward. The helpless lamb
is stricken where it stands, crouching in a deep gorge; the little
maid sits weeping by. Down beats the hail like pebbles. It strikes
upon the vines, scorches and blackens them. The wheat is leveled
to the ground. The river suddenly swells into a raging torrent. Its
turbid waters bear away the riches of the poor--the cow that served a
little household and followed the children, lowing, to reedy meadows
bathed by limpid streams--a horse caught browsing in a peaceful vale,
thinking no ill--great trees hurling destruction with them. Rafters,
roofs of houses, sometimes a battered corpse, float by.

The roads are broken up. The bridge is snapped. Years will not repair
the fearful ravage. The evening sun sets on a desolate waste. Men sit
along the road-side wringing their hands beside their ruined crops.
Children creep out upon their naked feet, and look and wonder. Where
is the little kid that ran before and licked their hands? Where is the
gray-skinned, soft-eyed cow that hardly needed a cord to lead her? The
shapely cob, so brave with its tinkling bells and crimson tassels? The
cob that daddy drove to market, and many merry fairs? Gone with the
storm! all gone!

* * * * *

Count Nobili was like the Italian climate--in extremes. Like his
native soil, he must live in the sunshine. His was not a nature to
endure a secret sorrow. He must be kissed, caressed, and smoothed by
tender hands and loving voices. He must have applause, approval, be
flattered, envied, and followed. Hitherto all this had come naturally
to him. His gracious temper, generous heart, and great wealth, had
made all bright about him. Now a sudden storm had swept over him and
brought despair into his heart.

When Prince Ruspoli left him, Nobili felt as battered and sore as if a
whirlwind had caught him, then let him go, and he had dropped to earth
a broken man. Yet in the turmoil of his brain a pale, scared little
face, with wild, beseeching eyes, was ever before him. It would not
leave him. What was this horrible nightmare that had come over him in
the hey