ul
blonde, who was, indeed, the fairest among them all. She had large black
eyes, with quick glances, beautiful light hair in masses, and was always
dressed simply, yet with natural elegance. She had long avoided making
acquaintance among men, and she now shunned Adolfo; but at last he
succeeded, after many difficulties, in becoming acquainted, and finally
won her heart--the end of it all being the old story of a poor girl
ruined by a gay and great signor, left a mother, and then abandoned.

"For four years she lived alone, by her work, with her child, who grew up
to be a very beautiful boy. Then he, noting that other children had
parents, asked her continually, 'Mamma, where is my papa?'

"He gave her no rest, and at last she went to Adolfo and asked him what
he would do for their child.

"He laughed at her, and said, 'Nothing. That folly is all over.
Begone!'

"Then, in a wild passion of rage at seeing her child so despised, she
stabbed him to the heart, and escaped unseen and undiscovered.

"Then, when the boy asked her again:

"'Cara madre, cara madre,
Dove e lo mio padre?'

"'Mother dear, tell to me
Where may my father be?'

"She replied:

"'Darling son, thy sire is dead,
Lying in an earthen bed;
Dead he ever will remain,
By my dagger he was slain.
Had he but been kind to thee,
Living still he yet would be;
Other sorrows I forgave,
With my dirk I dug his grave. {220}

This is but a commonplace story, yet it is such as finds more currency
among the people, and particularly among girls, than many a better one.
There is a strong touch of nature, and especially of Italian nature, in
the concluding lines.

THE WIZARD WITH RED TEETH

"And dost thou fear to greet
The Dead with me. They graced our wedding sweet."

--MOORE, _The Veiled Prophet of Khorassan_.

The following ballad may be classed as Florentine, since it was in
Florence that I heard it sung, but it is not attached to any particular
place. It is one of those compositions which are either sung or simply
recited, and quite as often intoned in a manner which is neither singing
nor speaking. In such chant, when a rhyme happens to fall in by chance,
the utmost is made of it by dwelling on the word or drawling it out.
Sometimes, as in the following, there are verses of four lines each, but
only the concluding line of every verse rhymes