nted the papal
throne, took place the crowning of the improvisatrice in the capitol at
Rome.

She had therefore attained the object of her wishes. She had finally
reached it by bribery and intrigue, by hypocritical tenderness, by the
resignation of her maiden modesty and womanly honor, and by all the arts
of coquetry.

But this triumph of hers was not to be untroubled. The _nobili_ shouted
for her, and the cardinals and princes of the Church, but the people
accompanied her to the capitol with hissing and howling. Poems came
fluttering down on all sides; the first that fell upon Corilla's head,
Cardinal Albani eagerly seized and unfolded for the purpose of reading
it aloud. But after the first few lines his voice was silenced--it was
an abusive poem, full of mockery and scorn.

But nevertheless she was crowned. She still stood upon the capitol, with
the laurel-crown upon her brow, cheered by her respectable protectors
and friends. But the people joined not in those cheers, and, as the
exulting shouts ceased, there swelled up to the laurel-crowned poetess,
from thousands of voices, a thundering laugh of scorn, and this scornful
laugh, this hissing and howling of the people, accompanied her upon her
return from the capitol, following her through the streets to her own
door. The people had judged her!

Corilla was no poetess by the grace of God, and only by the grace of man
had she been crowned as queen of poesy!

Mortified, crushed, and enraged, she fled from Rome to Florence.
She knew how to flatter the great and win princes. She was a
princess-poetess, and the people rejected her!

But the laurel was hers. She was sought and esteemed, the princes
admired her, and Catharine of Russia fulfilled the promise Orloff had
made the improvisatrice in the name of the empress. Corilla received a
pension from Russia. Russia has always promptly and liberally paid those
who have sold themselves and rendered services to her. Russia is very
rich, and can always send so many thousands of her best and noblest to
work in the mines of Siberia, that she can never lack means for paying
her spies and agents.

THE RUSSIAN OFFICER

With Carlo's death, Natalie had lost her last friend; with the stolen
money and diamonds, Marianne was robbed of her last pecuniary means. But
Natalie paid no attention to Marianne's lamentations. What cared she for
poverty and destitution--what knew she of these outward treasures, of
this wealth cons