Burlington free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1827-1865, 1838-06-22

G'HCC W your neHTt. WIN you (el the
your thoughts, Francesca, Will YOU love
me with but the thousand'h part OF my ad
Grafton, my devotion, for my child!
'Father-I will!
The Count rose from the knee on which
he had fallen, gave his daughter n long
embrace, and led her in. And that night
she fled over the Tuscan border, into
neighboring Romagna, and, with the stran-
ger at her side, sped away, under the cover
of night, toward the shores of the Brenta.
Like O city of secrets, sleeps silent
Venice. Her sea washed foundations are
buried under the smooth glass Of the tide.
Her palace entrances are dark caverns, I'm
penetrable to the eye. Her yelled danes
are unseen in their floating chambers, as
they 60 from street TO street and mystic.
rously and silently glide to and fro those
swift gondoas, black as night, yet carrying
sadness and mirth, innocence and guilt.
alike swiftly, mysteriously, and silently
Water, that betrays no footsteps, and
covers all with the same mantle of light,
fills her streets. Silence. that is the seal
of secresy, reigns day and night over her
thousand palaces.
For an hour the smooth mirror Of the
broad canal that sweeps under the Rialto,
had not been divided by the steel Prov Of
gondola. Francesca Spnola stood at the
window Of a chamber in palace Of gorge
Gus magnficence, watching that still water
for the coming of her husband. The sill
yer lines Of the moon stole back mpercep,-
bly,, as her full orb sailed up the heavens,
and the ,urrets Of the old architecture of
Venice, drawn clearly on the unrufiled DO
som Of the canal, seemed retiring before
consuming sheet of silver. The silence
seemed painful. To the ear of the beauti
fu FIorentine, the want Of the sound of
footsrep, of the echo of some distant wheel,
the utter death Of all sound common 10
even the stillest hour Of paved city, seem
ed oppressive and awful. Behind her
burned lamps Of aabaster, and perfumes
filled the chamber, and on a cushion Of
costly velvet lay mean and unornamented
guitar. Its presence in so costly palace
was secret yet withheld. She wished
to touch lis strings, if only to dispense the
horror Of silence. But she raised her
fingers, and again, without touching it,.
leaned out and watched the dark arch of
The Ratio.
A Rondola, with single oar, sped
swift ~ from its black shadow. 1t could
not be Palette. He had gone with his
two faithful servants to St. Mares. The
oar ceased the bark headed in the
water splashed on the marble stair-- and
the gondolier stepped on shore. All. who
but Palette. had such a form as stood
there in the moonlight!
Are we to be married again. said
Francesca, as her husband entered the
chamber, that you have once disguised
yourself as fshermans'
Palette turned from The light, and took
up the mysterious guitar. 1T is no night
to be indoors. my francesca! Come with
me to the lagoon, and | will tell you the
story of this despised instrument. Will
you Gomez he pursued, as she stood look
ing at him lr wonder at his strange dress
and disturbed look. win you come, my
wlfe'
But you have returned without your
gondo'ers" she said adva ncing step to
take his hand.
i have rowed a gondola ere now, he
answered; and, without further expana-
ton, he led Der down the lofty staircase
and seating her in the stern of the bark
which he had brought with him, stepped
upon the platform, and with mastery skill
and power, drove it like q shadow under
the Rialto.
He who watched The born ola quarter.
moon gliding past the towers, plnnaces and
palaces of the drifting cloads, and in his
youthful and restless brain fancied such
must be the smooth delight and changing
vision of traveller in strange handsome
who has thus dreamed in his boyhood will
scarce shoot through Venice for the first
time in gondola, without sense OF faml
iarlty with the scene and motion. The
architecture of the clouds is again drifting
past, and himself seems borne onward by
the silver shalop of the moon.
Francesca sat on the low cushion of the
gondola, watching and wandering. How
should her luxurious Palette have acquired
the exquisite skill with which he drove
the noseess boat like lance.ny over the
water. Another gondoIa approached or
was lett behind, the corner of palace was
to be rounded, or the black arch of bridge
to be shot under, and the peculiar warning
cry of the gondoliers, giving notice Of
their unheard approach, fell from his lips
so mechanically, that the hireling oarsmen
of the city, marvelIing at his speed but
never doubling that it was comrade OF
the Piazza, added the "fraieiio milo" to
their passing salu,alion. She saw by
every broad beam Of light. which bel ween
the palaces, came down across them, a
brow clouded and mind far from the oar
he turned so skllfully She looked at the
gondola in which she sat. 1t was old and
mean. In the PROV lay fishers net, and
the shabby guitar, thrown upon it. seemed
now, at least, moi out of place. She
looked up at Palette once more, and, in
his bare throat and bosom, his loose cap
and neglected hair. she could with d,fficnl,v