ly is susceptible.
Dipping at random through its pages, I saw with delight the name of
Colonna; and, ere long, discovered an animated description of the
singular scene portrayed in _La Scoperta_.

On my friend's return in the evening, I held up the manuscript in
triumph as he approached; and, after a repast in the Colonna saloon,
F----i, who, although a Venetian, could read his native tongue with
Roman purity of accent, opened at my request the time-stained volume,
and read as follows.

CHAPTER I.

On a bright May morning, in the year 1575, my gondola was gliding
under the guns of a Turkish frigate in the harbour of Venice, when she
fired a broadside in compliment to the Doge's marriage with the
Adriatic. The rolling of the stately vessel gave a sudden impulse to
the light vehicle in which I was then standing to obtain a better view
of the festivities around me; the unexpected and stunning report
deprived me for a moment of self-possession and balance, and I was
precipitated into the water. The encumbrance of a cloak rendered
swimming impracticable, and, after some vain attempts to remain on the
surface, I went down. When restored to consciousness, I found myself
in the gondola, supported by a young man, whose dripping garments told
me that I had been saved from untimely death by his courage and
promptitude. "Our bath has been a cold one," said he, addressing me
with a friendly and cheering smile. Too much exhausted to reply, I
could only grasp his hand with silent and expressive fervour. This
incident deprived the festival of all attraction; and, soon as I had
regained sufficient strength, the young stranger proposed that we
should return to the city for a change of dress. Still weak and
exhausted, I gladly assented to his proposal, and we left the
Bucentoro escorted by a thousand vessels, and saluted by the thunders
of innumerable cannon, proceeding to the open sea to celebrate the
high espousals.

My companion left me at the portal of my father's palace. He refused
to enter it, nor would he reveal his name and residence; but he
embraced me cordially, and promised an early visit. During the
remainder of the day, I could not for a moment banish the image of my
unknown benefactor from my memory. It was obvious, from his accent,
that he was no Venetian. His language was the purest Tuscan, and
conveyed in a voice rich, deep, and impassioned, beyond any in my
experience. He was attired in the dark and homely garb o