ioined the little party in the walk. Then the countess came down, and as they stood there by the lake the boat from up at Colico with the travelers from the Alps and the Tyrol came and discharged her load of tourists for Bellagio, and took in her load for France, England, and America.

“Oh, why can I not go, too?” cried the countess, as she saw the boat push off. "Why did you not tell me to get ready to go? I could get into the boat, go to Como, drive to the station, take a ticket, and be in Milan with my father before morning. I can do it. I will go and get the very

next-

The old admiral was walking up and down through the cypress avenue on the hill-side above them, and as the lady saw him she stopped suddenly and bowed her head, and hid her face in her hands, and, trembling, sank into a seat. She knew too well that this man was her keeper, and that while he lived and was free she must remain a prisoner.

The young doctor was greatly affected. He also now saw that something was certainly wrong here, and he, though a Frenchman just from school, had lived long enough in Italy to make a pretty shrewd guess at the cause of the trouble.

"I must get away from here, and soon, or I shall go mad," said the countess, lifting up her face and looking through the cypress avenue for the cause of her terror, as a woman always will when she has been frightened.

Lady, I am arranging to go to-night," said the artist. "To-night! Can we go to-night? Oh, let us go to-night, now! Come, let us go !"

These very trees have He has sworn that

"Soft, soft; mind what you say. ears. The old admiral is on the watch. you shall not go without taking him."

The lady looked at him with her great eyes wide open, and helpless as any babe. He had seen fit to tell her this much in order to put her on her guard, and make her the more cautious in getting away. But more than this he did not tell her.

The sun went down, and the party retired to prepare for the departure. The young doctor kept the child constantly by his side, for he had been engaged by the countess to remain with her, unless called away by a case of most urgent necessity. As he was a young man and a stranger, it was not likely that that event would happen for a long time.

It was ten o'clock at night. Fire-rockets and Roman candles were going off in every direction. It was like a great battle-field. These vulgar hotel-keepers, forgetting that people came there for peace and rest, took this means of advertising their respective houses. There were persons who remonstrated with the long-nosed, shrewd Swiss fellow who kept the Grande Bellagio, but it did no good. Every evening at eight, and from eight to ten, the whole garden and groves and hill-side were ablaze with these intolerable fireworks,

I wish to take the countess and her child out of this noise for an hour," said Murietta to the proprietor. "Is there not a place around the forks of the lake, on the other side of the little pine-topped mountain, where there are no hotels with rockets and fireworks?"

The man answered that there was, and also told the artist that on the other side of the little mountain there was a famous echo that the countess would certainly be pleased to hear.

"Give me a boat with four oarsmen, and the best young men to be found, for the countess has been sorely tried, and must have some diversion."

The man promised the boat should soon be ready, and also that he should have the best men in Bellagio to pull him and his party around the mountain; and the artist withdrew to his room.

He rolled up a picture that averted. He did not look at it.

was there, with his face He did not dare to. He

!

|

rolled it up tight, tied it, and then, taking up his brush, wrote on the back of it this one word, "Rubicon.

Then he went down and stood by the side of the countess on the balcony. The doctor and his little charge were watching the lights with great pleasure and interest from another balcony within call. The artist left the countess a moment, stepped to the doctor, whispered in his ear, after making sure that no spies were at that moment watching them, and then went back to the countess.

"It is all right. He will be with us as far as Como. He does not know all the trouble that surrounds us; you do not know, perhaps I do not know, and, after all, it is not best to know. But we are off in half an hour, and you must not say one word till safe away on the water."

"Safe away! Oh, Heaven! And you will see me through it all?”

"I will see you through it all, God helping me," the man said, with a trembling voice, for his face was lifted to the hill and the house in the pines where his heart should be left for ever behind him.

Murietta," said the lady, "I know what it costs you to go away with me to Milan."

Do you know ?" he asked, looking in her beautiful, childish, and helpless face. "Do you know what it costs

me ?"

Ah, yes. I know what it costs you to leave here and go with me down to hot and dusty Milan. I know you want to stay in Como for a month still, and to rest here and be quiet. Instead of that, you must go down just in the flush of the season to dull, dusty Milan, and all only to oblige me. You see I know what it costs you. I appreciate what you are about to do, and Heaven will reward you, for I cannot.

"Oh, woman! woman! woman!" sighed Murietta, as he once more, and for the last time, lifted his face to the house hidden away among the pines and ruins on the woody little mountain. “And you fancy you really do know what it is costing me to go to Milan !"

"All ready, signor."

"Very good. Say that we will be there presently," said Murietta to the man. And the man bowed low and withdrew.

"No, no; leave that," whispered the artist to the countess, as she began to throw her shawl over her shoulders. "Leave everything just as it is in the room. Touch nothing. Take nothing with you. It is too sultry at this. hour for shawls and wraps, and however much you may need them to-night, they must be left behind. This is a desperate game, and it must be played reckless of cost.”

The party entered the boat and pushed off and drove hard for half an hour up the lake and around the little high pine-topped mountain with its nose pushed into the forks.

"What a beautiful night for a ride to Como !" exclaimed the countess, as if in a spirit of banter.

"Beautiful!" answered Murietta; "but you would get very weary of it before you rode that distance." "Would I, though! Not half so weary as you, my dear artist."

Try it and see! Do you dare me ?"

"Well, I think I can endure almost as much boat-riding on Lake Como as the fair countess-that is all."

Captain, how much to Como and back, and without touching land all the way down, or stopping to rest, or doing anything by which my friend the artist can find other diversion than sitting in the boat ?"

It was indeed a dangerous enterprise. Two people of this party were attempting to deceive Italians. That is a hard thing to do.

The captain of the boat spoke to his fellows in the patois

"But you would get out as we neared the hotel, would you not?" she said, turning to Murietta with a well-assumed air of banter.

"Oh! I will not give you a chance to leave us. You shall not even be in hail of Bellagio again till we return from Como."

Captain! Como !" cried the beautiful woman, half rising with excitement, and acting her part with a skill that amazed Murietta.

"It will be fifty francs, Senora Countess, and the sum that we were to have for the excursion besides. "You shall have it; and bona mana besides." The Italian boatman bowed and smiled in acknowledgment, and the little craft spun around and the prow was pointed down the water toward the plains of Lombardy.

It was a moment of intense anxiety as they came opposite Bellagio and glided on their way down through the still, warm water of the lake. What, if the wily Italians suspected something, and should make some excuse to pull in—to get their coats, a little wine-anything?

No; the boat did not veer from its course. Not an oar lost a note. The tall, handsome, half-Greek boatmen kept time, and they shot ahead with a speed that was surprising. The artist sat silent, and with folded hands. He had not slept for the past two nights, but even now his brain was at work, and he was wide awake and watchful; he had done what he knew to be his duty. Yet, sitting there, he knew Yet, sitting there, he knew that on the morrow men and women would couple his name with that of the countess in a way that would cover his head with shame. He had sacrificed all-everything. He had sacrificed more to serve this woman by his side, to help her through a trouble, than most men ever possess. He had counted down his good name, broken his idol, left his heart, with all his broken hopes, on the pine and vine-clad hill at Bellagio.

He was

Yet, for all this that he had done, he, sitting there with folded hands, knew perfectly well there could, among men, be but one reward-the reward of a ruined name. not regretting anything now; he was simply sitting there looking back at the ugly fact, and sometimes asking himself if he could not have done otherwise, and all the time answering that he could not have done otherwise and had his own self-respect.

This, then, was the outlook. He had lost the world's good opinion, but had retained his own. After all, if he had been After all, if he had been compelled, at any time of his stormy and troubled life, from the date of his discretion, to choose which should be sacrificed and which retained, the world's good will or his own, he never would have hesitated or had two opinions for a moment. He had been driven to the wall here, and had been compelled to choose. He had made his choice, and did not regret it. Yet it was so hard, so very hard, to leave her, and disgraced! He was thinking that if he had died then it had been so very much better. She then would perhaps have thought of him at least with respect; now, she would never think of him but with shame.

And this is all for woman--to aid a woman who will forever be a stranger to me, in soul and body, because she, like the world, will never understand me; and she is bearing me away from my love.

"She is bearing me away from this one woman—the One Fair Woman-of my life! The light that I have followed, The light that I have followed, the lady I saw on the mountain of fire, and in whose path I strewed roses. This boat is bearing me from her presence, and in eternal disgrace.

It was a sultry evening. Away down the long narrow

rock and rest at will.

The bold, strong boatmen soon pushed on again, for a wind was springing up ahead, and the fair face of the lake began to grow wrinkled, as if getting up a storm.

The air was chill now as the wind blew in, and the doctor took off his cloak and folded it around the countess and her. child.

Murietta sat there silent and still. His pliable and easy nature had at last been intensified, and now he was as a man of iron.

There was a sound of oars. A man leaned over the boat and listened. and listened. The artist drew a pistol, cocked it, and said, "Pull! pull for your lives! Double pay if you reach Como before them!" And then he lifted the shining steel to the moon, "Death if you do not!”

"Is it-oh! is it-the admiral ?" asked the countess. The doctor looked terrified, and tapped the plank in the boat with his boot, and sat very restless in his seat.

Singularly enough, the captain and his men only smiled with pleasure at the lifted pistol and the promised double pay. These fellows had seen runaway affairs before. They now leaned to their oars, and entered into it with heart and soul. They thought this was a love affair, and laughed to see how cleverly it had been managed, for Como has long been famous for its many adventures in this field. These fellows supposed the artist was stealing the countess, and they liked his dash and daring, and particularly liked the promise of double pay.

Notwithstanding the promise of the proprietor of the Grande Hotel that the boat and the men should be the best on the lake, this was now doubtful, for the pursuers were gaining at every stroke. They were now almost within a pistol-shot.

The doctor crouched down, so as not to catch the wind, and the countess, with her child in her arms, lay almost flat on the seat, while Murietta turned his face to the boat that followed, took another pistol from his side, and calmly waited results.

"You will take notice, captain, and all of you, that the doctor here, and the countess, have no hand in this matter. It is all my own affair. If any of these men are killed who come after me, remember it is I, and I alone, who do it,” said the artist, with an iron expression in his voice, as he lifted a pistol toward the pursuers.

It was breaking day at last, and the boats began to leave the little towns along the edge of the water, and put out on the lake, for business or pleasure, and cross to other towns. They were now nearing the city of Como. The boat that followed hailed, but had no answer. Murietta sat silent as a man of stone, waiting his opportunity to send the admiral into eternity. He had endured quite enough. He was now desperate. His heart was really set on the death of this man. His mind was full of murder!

It is a sad but a true confession that this man, the artist, sitting there with his half-hidden pistol, was really wishing that the boat was only a little closer, so that he could send the bullet to his heart with perfect precision. He had determined to kill him, and to kill him with his own hand. Having once made up his mind to this, he was impatient for the moment to come.

It was unfortunate that the doctor was in the boat. Every pound of weight was now telling against our party. The men were bold, strong fellows, and, no doubt, faithful eno but they had been on the water at least an hour

pursuers had taken their oars. Besides, when the admiral determined to make chase, he had the pick of the best and swiftest boats in Bellagio.

The Italians were pulling indeed for life. They had seen how settled and determined was the artist, and they knew that blood must flow if they were overtaken. For very good reasons they wished to avoid anything serious, and were, therefore, making the best possible use of their strength.

The pursuers were dangerously close. They could almost pierce the boat of the countess with a pike. The artist had been too anxious to kill this old admiral; his mind had been too determinedly set on murder to exhibit his pistol as he drew near. He even held it low down in the edge of the boat, as a sportsman holds his gun out of sight when coy game is coming near. He was only waiting for a dead-centre shot to the heart. There was a boat putting sharp across the lake in front and at right angles. It was driving straight across their course. It whistled, but our boatmen did not heed. Closer and closer they drew together. The steamer and the little boat were closing in, bow to bow.

Once, twice, thrice, the steamer whistled, but the Italians were desperate. To stop then would be to give themselves over to the pursuers.

in her lap and sat looking with her great brown eyes at Murietta, who scarcely spoke the whole weary way to the gates of the city of the plain.

There lay Milan. A wall of five miles girdle, and wide enough for a small army to march abreast upon. This wall is the great drive of the great city. It is called the Bastion, and is planted with double rows of great trees. This was built by the Spaniards centuries ago.

In the centre of this city stands a little mountain of marble, in a low and uncomely site. This mountain of marble is topped by a forest of barren and boughless pines, and all are as white as if wrapped in perpetual rime and

snow.

If you wish to see and enjoy the great cathedral of Milan, keep away from it. At all events, never enter it. It is a lonesome place inside. It is so large you may get lost. And the famous silver bishops and popes are not solid silver. Tap them with your finger, and you will find them hollow and as thin as tin-as thin and hollow, in fact, as if they were still alive and striding up time, professing Faith, Hope, and Charity.

"On! and under her! On, I say!"

Climb to the top of this awful edifice, and you will find that the figure of a mountain with a forest is not altogether

of steel.

Right under the prow they shot, with barely room for their oars, and as they came out and darted on from the other side-on over the swelling waves, and shot for the shore, there was a shout of admiration from the steamer's deck, and a waving of handkerchiefs from fair hands, that showed how the reckless deed had been appreciated, even by those who had been about to run them down.

As they touched the shore and climbed into a carriage, they looked back, but the boat of the pursuers was not to be distinguished. Other craft were crossing the lake, and perhaps it was confounded with them.

Then, as they drove further away, and up the little sloping hill toward Milan, they saw that the steamer had turned about on the lake and was lying there quite still. It was not yet fairly dawn, and they dashed away toward Milan in doubt of what had become of the admiral or his men. The countess wondered why the vessel had stopped in the middle of the lake and was resting there. Perhaps she was picking up the pursuers, who had fallen under her wheels.

CHAPTER XXXI.

IN MILAN,

Ir is one hour from Como to Milan by rail, or more; but you can drive to it in three hours. The railroad is not so direct as the carriage-road. It is a lonesome ride through a bare and not over fertile land, considering that it is the plain of Lombardy. There was no train for two hours, and they took a carriage.

You pass through a dozen or two poor, tumble-down towns, all with one long street, and all paved with cobblestones, over which your carriage bumps and thumps in the most agonizing manner you can imagine.

of marble. In fact, every plant of Italy, even to the most common vegetables of the garden, are chiseled out and set up there for you to walk through and admire.

There is something more here on those little spires, and in this marble garden of plants and flowers, than all that. On one of these spires is a hen and her nest. It is made very beautiful, singular as it may seem, and is much admired.

Away yonder, in an obscure corner, looking down into the crowded street, stands a statue of Adam. He is leaning on his mattock, and seems very weary of life. His face is a blended face of Christ and of Cain. It is the best of all the thousands of statues here.

Our little party of three reached the Hotel Royal, and in the heart of Milan at last, worn and exhausted.

The countess had been so overcome by the agony and intense excitement of the past few days that she had to be borne from the carriage to her room.

There lay Milan in the middle of the great plain, teeming in yellow corn, and covered with fruit and flowers and vines, and literally steaming in the intense heat. It was intolerable. The old father of the countess had pushed on the next day for England, leaving kind messages and most urgent letters for her to follow at once, for he was dying, and he could not live a day longer in Milan.

It was impossible for our party to move that evening, eager as they were to leave the burning town, Italy—everything-while all seemed clear and open for the flight. The countess was prostrated, and must remain till to-morrow.