The Shasta courier., 1867-01-26
SH ASIA COU RIER.
LOVE IN ITALY.

Every one knows that Florence, the gem
II italian cities, is encompassed for miles by
grand old villas, dotting valleys and cresting
undulatlng hills. Linked to many of these
ancient villas are strange Observation-Disclosures
OF wrong and revenge, of shame and grief
of heroic endurance and cruel martyrdom.-
One OF the most startling of these narratives
is associated with tie Villa Salviai.
Among the handsome portraits that adorr
lis walls is one of female, with face full
of bitterness and woe-a face that has the
look of one unloved. yet capable of love, and
portrait of the Lady Veronica, the wife Of
Jacopo Salviati, Duke of San Giuliano, tc
whom the villa belonged.
Toward the middle of the seventeenth cen.
tury, there was grand festival C LIBERATED a,
this magnificent villa, the last ever given
there by a Salvati The host, then dash
ing cavalier in the first flush of reckless
manhood, was few years older than his
wife. She could hardly have been thirty
but the disparity of their ages was rendered
striking by the gay recklessness of Jacopc
Salviati's handsome, furrowess face, and the
stern intensity, the wistful eagerness of gaze
that was wearing sharp lines in the counte
nance of the Lady Veronica.
1t was during this feast that one of the
spies whom she had employed to watch hel
husbands movements, delivered to her a
small package. The evening was far ad
vanced. Some of the guests had departed
others fingered upon the threshold, to enjoy
the glorious panorama revealed by the rising
moon. The Duchess could hardly conceal
her impatience to have them gone. She
started when the horse of the Duke was
brought to the door, and her knitted broW
grew visibly darker. Salviati, with smiling
suavitv, made his apologies to the remaining
guests; the Grand Duke of Tuscany, his
master, required his immediate presence
: The Grand Duke has need of you at
this hourI" the Duchess whispered, or.
rather hissed out, between her closed teeth.
Why not?" answered Salviati. aloud.
" All my hours are at his Highness' com
mand? ?"
I" He bowed courteously, sprang into the
saddle, and waved his hand in graceful
adieu as he rode rapidly from the door.
Even while he was speaking. the lady's
fingers clutched the little package she had
hidden in her pocket; and as she forced her
white lips INTO a sort of smile. and strung
NbThS lo1eluer IN lule talk, SDe
could no; relax her hold.
The last guest departed; then, without a
second pause, the casket tightly grasped in
her trembling hands, she flew up the broad
stairway to her sumptuous chamber A
child, sleeping beneath canopy of cerulean
silk was awakened by her sudden entrance,
and lifted its little face, flushed with the
roses Of sleep, and watched her with great,
wondering blue eyes, like his fathers.
She pressed the spring Of the morocco case
and shivering. gasping. she gazed wildly up
on something without.
1t was countenance of child like lowell
ness, shining out from amid the wealth of
loosened tresses, as through a cloud which
the sunset bad turned to gold The eyes
were blue, and had that plead ;nglv pathetic
expression which told they had early been
familiar with sorrow, though thev seemed
formed only to brighten with iny. And
there was the long slender throat, slender to
a fault, which she had so often heard the
Duke Of Salviat admire as an especial charm
in womanhood. The Duchess raised her
eyes mirror opposite reflected her own
dark, pain distorted face. her sunken luster
less eyes, her thick, ungraceful throat
with look of passionate despair. and a
fierce cry, she flung down the miniature.
and stamped upon it, and tossed her arms
above her head, and wheeling round as she
staggered towards the bed, suddenly faced
the amazed boy.
. Oh, mamma. you frighten me !" he cried:
maj"
The word ugly" had scarcely passed the
child's lips when she struck him upon the
Ugly ugly Do l not know it? Do
not see it? Must even my own child tell
me so ?''
Then she wept violently, and caught the
boy IN her arms, and caressed him with
sort of savage remorse until his sobs were
hushed.
In the street called Via del Pelastri stands
the house of Giustno Canacci. one of the
most wealthy and most highly -honored of
Florenilne merchants.
1t is past midnight; but Caterina Canacei
sits IN the great saloon, in the attitude of one
listening for distant sounds-sits with an air
OF expectation She goes to the window. and
looks out, and listens. The moon has dis
appeared the heavens have grown dark
threatening one of those sudden storms SO
common in Italy. She moves to door at the
further end OF ihe apartment. and bends her
head to catch the sound from within-ths
low. regular breathing Of one asleep. She
softly opens the door, and though the taper
burns family, it gives light enough to show
the benighted features of an old man-the
white locks lying upon the pillow, the mild
lips parted with half smile. almost the
smile of a sleeping child. it speaks such alb
sence of care, such sweetness of repose.
Caterina closes the door. noiseiessly. for
she has heard light signal, and fits across
the spacious apartment, down the great
stairs, cautiously lifts the chains of the
hall door, and draws back the bolt. A cav
alier enters and is jnyfully greeted.
Jacopo, how brav,ly you are attired to
night" she exclaimed, with childlike ad
miraton. examining his gala dress. Come
in-step softly; be has only just fallen
asleep"
Chains and bolts are replaced and the
lovers pass up the stairs. and enter the
apartment Caterina has just quilted. They
sit side hy side; and while the visitor (who
was really the Duke of San Giuliano) twines
his fingers in and out among the lnnsened
r.. L