more difficult to her; her
eyelids dropt down; she drank once more of the wonderous potion; then
she made him lead her to the couch.

"Farewell!" she said, as if already in a dream; "do not forget me."

She mounted upon the bed, laid herself gently down; her hands searcht
for the crucifix, which she kist with her eyes closed; then she held
out her hand to her lover, and beckoned him away as she stretcht
herself out to sleep.

Antonio gazed at her awhile; then with the spring he shut the
invisible door again, crept back up the narrow winding stairs to his
chamber, fixt the wardrobe in its old place, and burst into hot tears
as the song of the nightingale welcomed him with the swell of its
mournful notes. He too longed for death, and only wisht beforehand to
release her, who but a few days since was to have been his earthly
bride, from her marvellous and awful state.

* * * * *

In order to be out of the way when his teacher returned from his
journey, Antonio had bent his steps toward the loneliest part of the
wood. It was an annoyance to him to meet his friend, the Spaniard,
here; for he was in no mood to carry on a conversation. However, as
there was no avoiding his comrade, he resigned himself in silent
sadness to the society which at other times had been a pleasure to him
and a comfort. He only half listened to what his friend said, and
answered but sparingly. As was almost always the case, Pietro was
again the theme of Alfonso's boundless admiration.

"Why are you thus stingy of your words today?" he at length began,
somewhat vext: "is my company troublesome to you? or are you no longer
as capable as you used to be of honouring our great teacher and giving
him the glory he deserves?"

Antonio was forced to collect himself, not to sink away entirely into
his dreamy state.

"What is the matter with you?" askt Alfonso again: "it seems I have
offended you."

"No, you have not;" cried the Florentine; "but if you have any regard
for me, if you would not excite my anger, if you would not have the
bitterest feelings rend my heart, do give over chaunting the praises
of your idolized Pietro for today. Let us talk on some other subject."

"Ha! by Heaven!" exclaimed Alfonso: "so the parsons have twisted your
feeble senses round at last. Go your own way henceforward, young man;
wisdom, I now well see, is too lofty a prize for you. Your head is too
weak for this fare; and you are longing