Ferdinand turned the key; the door unclosed, and, to their infinite

joy, discovered to them the grey dawn. 'Now, my love,' said

Hippolitus, 'you are safe, and I am happy.'--Immediately a loud voice

from without exclaimed, 'Take, villain, the reward of your perfidy!'

At the same instant Hippolitus received a sword in his body, and

uttering a deep sigh, fell to the ground. Julia shrieked and fainted;

Ferdinand drawing his sword, advanced towards the assassin, upon whose

countenance the light of his lamp then shone, and discovered to him

his father! The sword fell from his grasp, and he started back in an

agony of horror. He was instantly surrounded, and seized by the

servants of the marquis, while the marquis himself denounced vengeance

upon his head, and ordered him to be thrown into the dungeon of the

castle. At this instant the servants of the count, who were awaiting

his arrival on the seashore, hearing the tumult, hastened to the

scene, and there beheld their beloved master lifeless and weltering in

his blood.

They conveyed the bleeding body, with loud lamentations,

on board the vessel which had been prepared for him, and immediately

set sail for Italy. Julia, on recovering her senses, found herself in a small room, of

which she had no remembrance, with her maid weeping over her.

Recollection, when it returned, brought to her mind an energy of

grief, which exceeded even all former conceptions of sufferings. Yet

her misery was heightened by the intelligence which she now received.

She learned that Hippolitus had been borne away lifeless by his

people, that Ferdinand was confined in a dungeon by order of the

marquis, and that herself was a prisoner in a remote room, from which,

on the day after the morrow, she was to be removed to the chapel of

the castle, and there sacrificed to the ambition of her father, and

the absurd love of the Duke de Luovo.

This accumulation of evil subdued each power of resistance, and

reduced Julia to a state little short of distraction. No person was

allowed to approach her but her maid, and the servant who brought her

food. Emilia, who, though shocked by Julia's apparent want of

confidence, severely sympathized in her distress, solicited to see

her; but the pain of denial was so sharply aggravated by rebuke, that

she dared not again to urge the request.

In the mean time Ferdinand, involved in the gloom of a dungeon, was

resigned to the painful recollection of the past, and a horrid

anticipation of the future. From the resentment of the marquis, whose

passions were wild and terrible, and whose rank gave him an unlimited

power of life and death in his own territories, Ferdinand had much to

fear. Yet selfish apprehension soon yielded to a more noble sorrow.

He mourned the fate of Hippolitus, and the sufferings of Julia. He

could attribute the failure of their scheme only to the treachery of

Robert, who had, however, met the wishes of Ferdinand with strong

apparent sincerity, and generous interest in the cause of Julia. On

the night of the intended elopement, he had consigned the keys to

Ferdinand, who, immediately on receiving them, went to the apartment

of Hippolitus.




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