ossible for the
prince to discover her retreat. The respect with which the prince
speaks of her, and a certain deferential deportment which he maintains
towards her, appear to corroborate the truth of this report.

He is devoted to her with a fearful intensity of passion which increases
day by day. In the earliest stage of their acquaintance but few
interviews were granted; but after the first week the separations were
of shorter duration, and now there is scarce a day on which the prince
is not with her. Whole evenings pass without our even seeing him, and
when he is not with her she appears to form the sole object of his
thoughts. His whole being seems metamorphosed. He goes about as if
wrapped in a dream, and nothing that formerly interested him has now
power to arrest his attention even for a moment.

How will this end, my dear friend? I tremble for the future. The
rupture with his court has placed my master in a state of humiliating
dependence on one sole person--the Marquis Civitella. This man is now
master of our secrets--of our whole fate. Will he always conduct
himself as nobly as he does now? Are his good intentions to be relied
upon; and is it expedient to confide so much weight and power to one
person--even were he the best of men? The prince's sister has again
been written to--the result of this fresh appeal you shall learn in my
next letter.

COUNT O------- IN CONTINUATION.

This letter never reached me. Three months passed without my receiving
any tidings from Venice,--an interruption to our correspondence which
the sequel but too clearly explained. All my friend's letters to me had
been kept back and suppressed. My emotion may be conceived when, in the
December of the same year, the following letter reached me by mere
accident (as it afterwards appeared), owing to the sudden illness of
Biondello, into whose hands it had been committed.

"You do not write; you do not answer me. Come, I entreat you, come on
the wings of friendship! Our hopes are fled! Read the enclosed,--all
our hopes are at an end!

"The wounds of the marquis are reported mortal. The cardinal vows
vengeance, and his bravos are in pursuit of the prince. My master--oh!
my unhappy master! Has it come to this! Wretched, horrible fate! We
are compelled to hide ourselves, like malefactors, from assassins and
creditors.

"I am writing to you from the convent of --------, where the prince has
found an asylum. At this moment he is r