fore the young girl, who, overcome with emotion, sat down.

"Aminta," said he, passionately, "since the first day I saw you, my
soul, my life, have been your own. If you but will it, your life shall
be my own--my own, to make every hour of your life one of joy and
pleasure--mine, in adoring you as we do the saints in heaven."

Maulear, with his eyes fixed on Aminta's, sought an echo to the
outpourings of his soul. His lips were on Aminta's hand, when, between
the young girl and himself, he saw a hideous head, made yet more horrid
by the agony it expressed. Aminta suddenly withdrew, and Maulear
experienced that terror of which the bravest are sensible when they
tread on a reptile.

"Scorpione!" said the Marquis.

This name, on the lips of the Marquis at such a time, made such an
impression, that a stream of blood, mingled with white froth, burst from
his lips, and fell at Aminta's feet.

"Help, Signor!" said she to Maulear, "help, I pray you, for this
unfortunate man! This is the first time he has gone out since that cruel
day. See, he dies!"

"What is the meaning of all this?" said Maulear to himself, as he
hurried towards the villa. "Twice my being with Aminta has exercised
the same effect on this unfortunate being. Can she love him? Can he be
jealous?"

IV. THE GRAND JUDGE.

The trial of Count Monte-Leone, which had been so anxiously looked for,
and had given rise to so many disputes about the curious story which
occupied both the high and low of Naples, was about to begin.

The Duke of Palma had not been able to make good his promise to the
prisoner, and bring him promptly before his judges. The incident at
_Torre-del-Greco_ made a new inquiry necessary, and the examinations,
researches, and inquiries of every kind it led to daily, retarded the
trial, much to the regret of the king and his minister of police, who
were aware of the extent to which the public imagination was excited,
and feared its consequences. Monte-Leone began to feel grave
apprehensions in relation to the dangerous game he had played. On the
evening of his excursion, faithful to his word, the Count had presented
himself again to the keeper of the Castle del Uovo in the costume in
which he had left it, and the pious wicket-keeper, when he saw the false
assistant jailer, who had gone out on the previous evening, return with
a trembling and uncertain step, read a long lecture on intemperance and
the results of drunkenness, deplorable faul