Phenix gazette. [volume] (Alexandria [D.C.]) 1825-1833, 1825-06-04
NO. go


interview, who had had the strength to refuse
it, when she saw the chosen of her heart so
wretched, had the courage to console him;
she wss no longer timid and trembling, she
approached him-"Giulio," she said, 81 am
thine"
Giulio, consumed by remorse, became som.
bre and savage even by the side of Theresa;
the most tender caresses were Intellectual to
soften him. Meanwhile the love Of Theresa
increased, and she sighed in secret over the
change which had taken place in him, but she
dared not complain; she feared to aflict, to
ALLEVIATE him, still deluding herself with the
hope ofmaking him so happy that he would
forget all things but her. Giulio, far from re-
plying to her affection, accused her of his
misfortunes. ''rhou hast seduced, thou hast
ruined me, !" he said; ''but for thee my soul had
still been unpoluted" He saw her less fire.
quently; at length his visits ceased entirely.
Theresa enquired for him, went frequently to
the church, wrote to him.-Her letters were
returned unopened, and Giulio was never seen
out Of his cell; nevertheless, it was necessary
Theresa should speak to him; that she should
confde to him her secret; alas! the secret ola
mother!-What is to become of her if he per-
sists in abandoning her But she cannot, she
will not believe it. She learns that the fol-
lowing Sunday Giulio is appointed to officiate
and feels that she must not neglect the oppOr-
tunity; much more than her life is at stake,
and that consciousness inspires her with for
titude. An important project meanwhile en-.
crosses her; the two days previous to that on
which she is to see Giulio are spent entirely
in arranging things for meditated flight; her
enterprise was rendered easy by the situation
ofthe convent close to the seaside as for the
place whittier they should direct their flight,
She had not thought of it, that was left to
Giulio, for, save Giulio, all things were become
indifferent to her. She had hired small YES
sci, and had managed all things with such
secrecy and prudence, that her design was un.
suspected, and her excessive internal agita-
ton saved her from even a momentary reflec-
ton on the difficulties she was about to en-
counter.
The anxiousy expected day at last arrived,
and Theresa, wrapped in long thick veil,
placed herself close to the altar. Giulio could
not distinguish her, while she watched all his
motions, and when the congregation dispers.
CO, she glided behind column, near which he
must necessarily pass in returning to the clois-
tiers. As he advanced she perceived that he
was more than ever prey to grief; his arms
were crossed over his bosom, his head droopeo,
he walked with the slow and heavy step OF
criminal. Theresa beheld his dependency
her own life to his repose, but she has no long,
er an alternative, the innocent being to whom
she must soon give life demands from her =
father. She presented herself to Giulio-
"Stay" cried she, "Giulio, must speak TO
you, and you must listen to me! will not
quit you till you have given me the key ofthe
convent garden must have it. Oh, Giulio,
much more than my life is dependent on you'll
At these words GiuIo reused himself from
dreadful dream. "Wrctched woman," cried
he, what sayest thou Begone! Fly far from
this spot" But Theresa threw herself at his
feet, vowing never to quit him till he had
granted her demand. Giulio's efforts TO es-
cape from her were in vain; a supernatural
force seemed to animate Theresa. "Swcar,''
said she, 'that this night, at midnight, We
shall meet again" While she thus persisted,
slight sound was heard. Giulio yielded the
key to her. "At midnight" said she, and
| they separated
At midnight Theresa repaired to the garden.
The night was dark; she dared not call, tor
fear of discovery; soon, however, she heard
| the approach OF footsteps; it was Giulio.--
"What wilt thou" said he; 'Speak, the mo-
ments are brief! Cease, ! charge thee, to
pursue wretch who can dnever render thee
happy Theresa, I love thee! Without thee
life is an insupportable burthen; and near thee
my remorse is beyond endurance, it embtters
my happiest moments. Thou hast witnessed
my despair! How often have accused thee!
Pardon, pardon, my beloved! 1t is right that
I should punish myself have renounced
thee; that sacrifice cxpiates my crime" He
ceased, suffocated with grief Theresa en-
deavored to console him, to direct his views
towards happy future: "Giulio," said she,
'for myself only should not have dared to
seek thee. Like thee, would not have
shrunk from death, but this pledge Of our love
demands that we should live: come then, Gu.
Ito, let us DEPART All is ready for our fight"
Giulio, in his terrible agitation, suffered him.
self to be led along by her:-a few minutes
more, and they would have been united for
ever. But, suddenly disengaging himselffro
the arm ofTheresa,' "No," said he, "never"
and he plunged his poinard into herbosom;
she fell, and Giulio was covered with her
blood. He stood gazing on her with Devil
dered air. Day was beginning to dawn, the
convent bell toiled; he raised the inanimatc
BODY of her who had so much loved him, and
threw it into the sea. Then, with a wild and
hurried step, he entered the church-his
blood.staned robe, the poniard he still held
in his hand,-all told Of guilt and death! he
was quickly seized, he made no resistance
Giulio disappeared forever!
when Bonaparte pronounced these words,
he approached the Empress in the attitude OF
one who draws dagger: so strong was inc
illusion, that the ladies i'll waiting threw
themselves between him and his wife, crying
out loudly. Bonaparte, as a consummate ae'
tor, pursued his narrative undlsturbed' wi'h'
out appearing to notice the effect he had pro- so
tails respecting the fate Of Giulio; the Empe-
ror repied lacenicaliy. i" The crime: and Sc
erets Of cIoisters are impenetrable. The sto-
~ Of Giuo is not fiction, before fore the i Rsyo,
ra,o.aa bsnpened in a convent at Lyons; the
doc',ments relating to it fell into the hands OF
Bonaparte, and furnished him, almost entire
". With the subject Of 6iuio'