The Union Magazine of Literature and Art 1848-01: Vol 2 Iss 1
None
o. a yer j JANUARY, 1848, Sct TAMA ! Ss N Es AUF 0)\° | ct il fis AP ng uu f ™ ii <1 SRA Le DS , 140. NASSAU Sto0™ WHOSE BACHMARDSOM SS MX. HZ. LUDWIG, PRINTER, 70 VESET-ST.,N. Y. “~~ ay TERMS.—Three Dollars per annum, inadvance. Twe copies for Five Dollars, — THE UNION MAGAZINE, LITERATURE AND ART, EDITED BY MRS. C. M. KIRKLAND, AUTHOR OF “A NEW HOME,” “FOREST LIFE,” ETC. AND FILLED WITH Contributions from the most Eminent Writers of the Country. THE SECOND VOLUME COMMENCES WITH THE JANUARY NUMBER, 1848. Ar the conclusion of the first half-year of the Union Macazine, the Publisher feels im- pelled to make some acknowledgment of his sense of the favorable reception accorded to it by the public. Its success has certainly been unprecedented ; and while it may be pardona- ble to ascribe this in part to the merits of the work, it must not be denied that public good- will and kindness have been abundantly demonstrated. ‘The press, in all parts of the country, has given its voice liberally and heartily in favor of the new aspirant. To flag after this, would be dishonorable indeed. It is the hope of the publisher that the courage and enterprise which belong to success will be found rather to have stimulated than slackened his exertions. If there be talent of a suitable kind in the country, he is deter- mined to make it available to the Union Magazine in the various departments. He will continue to give superior engravings in Mezzotint, Line and Wood by H. S. Sadd, Thomas Doney, M. Osborne, Robert Hinshelwood, W. S. Barnard, B. F. Childs, P. Loomis, &c., from original designs by T. H. Matteson, who has the sole direction of all the designs for the Engravings. The Literary matter will continue to be under the exclusive control of the Editor, Mrs. (See third page cover.) C@em*SWY Qa ee ee ee ee Zr ep ereD se —N, PDL PD PLD LP PPL PL OL OL te -_ PP PPL LPP LBL LOL lel el lll LOL La hl ll Ll, eS CIN IS a e—ee_—_ ee eee PTTL Zz 54) % »m ACES Se ee UNION _ (Ce = —- LOVE AND Say wy WN THE, MAGAZINE JANUARY, 1848. ~ = —— MURDER. / a cale of Pi paternp. BY JOHN BROUGHAM. “ Blood! Iago, blood!” GENTLE reader, were you ever at Lisbon? No. Then get a skilful mesmerizer to put you into a clairvoyant state, and travel there instanter. After you have seen the respectable old lions of the city, the church of St. Roche, with its miraculous mo- saic, the beautiful Adjuda, and the monstrous Ne- cessidades, place yourself quietly in one of those unwieldy canvass-backed omnibuses you will see lurking about, and after a pleasant ride through a very picturesque suburb, you will find yourself at Belem, whose magnificent convent will be the first VOL. II.—NO. I. ae object which will strike your attention ; and should you have the curiosity to investigate its interior, you will see a thousand or more lively, olive- colored, bugle-eyed, Spanish children—for those professors of laziness, the monks, have given place to orphans—enjoying themselves in the innocent and gleeful sport of early youth. Having fed your eye with this the ‘most delight- ful sight,humanity can gaze upon—for what can be more heart-thrilling, or wake up so spontaneous a glow of adoration within the soul, than to see those images of the Maker, fresh from his own 1 1 eee LP LLLP Oe OO le — en PPR” LPP PD LPDVw PDP PPP? PRR RP RL PP ee A i s wa ( iA — amo ~ FS _—- et a ete BF eh = fe70 Ss \ ( 5 PDP BAO 2 THE UNION MAGAZINE. almighty hand, ere contact with this vicious world has effaced the angel impress from their features? Having, as I before observed, feasted your eyes, just cast them towards the brow of the opposite hill, and there, buried in a nest of olive groves, and jalousied like an Italian palazzo, you will perceive the splendid mansion of Senor Fernando Basta, a rich—uncommonly rich—wine merchant, having made a large fortune by a lifetime, almost, of unmitigated business application, thought, silly mortal, the best way to enjoy the “ almost ” would be to get him a wife, and a country house ; and retire, patriarchally, to enjoy the residue of exist- ence under the shadow of his own fig tree. A few moments’ walk will bring you to the place, and I entreat you to take the trouble, on your own account, if not to pleasure me; for I as- sure you that you will enjoy a very delightful walk through those orange-hedged gardens, the ripe half of the fruit tempting you to taste—they eat only the sunny side of an orange there—the noble ‘l'agus rolling beneath you, its waters mirroring the intensely-blue sky. You will not only view, with bounding pulse and heart of admiration, the mag- nificent panorama which will lie stretched before you—that is to say, should you be so fortunate as to select a fair day—but let the weather be propi- tious or not, you will be enabled more readily to unravel the intricacies of my story, and follow its windings from chamber to terrace, from garden to balcony ; having once, leisurely, and with that view steadily in your mind, thoroughly examined the establishment. You will perceive that the house is built on the true Spanish plan, the entire of the ground floor taken up by one apartment, having windows on all sides which open upon a spacious terrace, luxu- riously matted with unnumbered vines and trees, forming a leafy shade through which the prying sun-beams find it impossible to penetrate. As you enter this sumptuously-appointed room you will see—nay, don’t be frightened, it cannot be an in- trusion, recollect you will be travelling mesmeri- cally, and consequently—I presume, for I am not learned in the mystery—invisible ;—you will per- ceive, I say, that nothing has been omitted to render it perfect in all appliances, for ministering to the ease, comfort, and happiness of its occu- pants. There is a lavish profusion of elegant material, and yet every article is in exquisite taste, from the gorgeous mantel-clocks reflected in the vast mirrors, to the minute but expensive articles of vertu, arranged with studied negligence upon the pier tables. If your intangible feet are sus- ceptible of pressure, just walk across the carpet ; you will find the sensation will be like that pro- duced by the deliciously-soft but springy moss one meets occasionally on rocky surfaces, and if your oifactories have their natural capabilities, you will PATEL V\% who | recognize an atmosphere of perfume wafted through the open windows, from a garden absolutely radiant with the choicest flowers of the earth. Having closely observed all this, you will doubt- lessly acknowledge, as I did, that the sunniest | portion of creation could scarcely furnish a brighter spot, or the hand of art adorn it with more exqui- site skill. And now for my “ tale.”—Stay ! Upon recollection, I believe I said that Senor Basta was a “silly mortal,’ and feel bound to give something like a proof of my assertion. I'll do so, reader, by asking you one question. Do you imagine that an irascible, jealous-tem- pered, rather savage-minded Spanish gentleman of | fifty-five (he called it forty), could be deemed any- | thing but one of the most foggy-brained of elderly noodles, who would, with malice aforethought, thrust his neck into the life-yoke of matrimony, with—bless the man’s courage—a sprightly speci- men of Andalusian vivacity, aged seventeen, and yet have the unspeakable audacity to expect ease and happiness for the approaching winter of his life ? Did he do such a foolish thing ? Most assuredly, venerable sir. Was she so stupid as to marry him? Indevd she was, my dear young lady, just eight months before my story commences. Inasmuch as you concede the fact of their silli- ness, I shall proceed with my relation. At one of the windows which looked cityward of the residence just described, stood the Senora Isabel Basta, wholly concealed by the closed jalousie ; with an anxiously-fixed look she gazed on a receding figure,—it was her husband; no sooner did he turn ihe angle of the street than she bounded back into the room, and clapping her hands, exclaimed in accents of evident delight, «“ Come forth, my poor prisoner!” A mysterious-looking recess slowly opened, a brilliant little brunette rushed’ forward, and the two sisters were locked in a fond embrace. « My sweet girl, my beautiful Anita!” ‘*‘ My own, own Isabel!” And now, while they are loading each other with sisterly endearments, it would be an excellent time to attempt some idea of their personal at- tractions, but I have not ability, neither has the language sufficient strength to do them justice. Therefore I will leave you to picture to yourself two of the very loveliest of created beings, full of the fresh joyous spirit of girlhood, sparkling with animation and—but they are about to speak, so you must fill up the description as you please. “ He’s gone, Anita; my Bluebeard told me he should be away until evening, and so we may amuse ourselves without fear.” ON Nt ttl ltl le ltt tl al ll tt ll Nl tt nt a imre®) oy, Ne arr Lad DMS Op PP BDPD PDO YD POLO LOLOL BOLO LL Dl ele eee a PA PPP PLO eee SS eeeEe—eEeEeEeEeeeeeee (a ww —™ PO OO LOVE “My dear sister,” replied the other, “I am truly sorry to be the cause of so much uneasiness to you; do you know why Senor Basta has forbid- den me his house?” ‘From his absurd, groundless, but most annoy- ing jealousy,” answered Isabel. ‘ You can form no idea to what an extremity he carries his folly, but he shall not hinder me from seeing you, Anita. I cannot be immured in solitude, so do promise to remain a few days longer.” “Nay, do not urge me to stay, dear sister ; it would grieve me to the soul were I to be the means of producing any annoyance between you and your husband.” “ Well, I shall not press you; I have only one more remark to make,” continued Isabel, folding her sister in her arms, and looking with an arch expression straight into her lustrous eyes. “Through some means, a certain young inamo- rato, by name Senor Andrea, has heard of your visit, and has been observed hovering about the neighborhood, looking as anxious as a keen sports- man in search of game. Of course,”—here the glance deepened into positive mischief,—* you knew nothing about it.” “T confess, I did,” timidly replied Anita. “I have seen him, and I assure you, gave him a very severe lecture on his folly and imprudence.” « And pray, what did you say to him?” *‘T told him, on pain of my displeasure, never to venture near this house again, until he was quite certain that Senor Basta was not at home.” ‘Thou model of prudence, sagacity, and”— what more she would have added it is impossible for me to imagine, for just at that moment the sisters were startled into an attitude of pleased attention, by the sound of a very musical voice proceeding from the garden ; what tender thoughts it gave breath to I know not ; suffice it to say, they were rendered with sweetness, softness, and taste, and had an evident effect upon one of the listeners. Could a painter have caught the form and features of those twe sisters, as entwined around each other they held their breath to catch the singer’s ac- cents, he would have immortalized his canvass, and himself. At length the voice was hushed, and Isabel, peering under at the downcast eyes of her blush- ing sister, said slily, “The cavalier has taken your hint pretty quickly, sister dear; are your nerves quite steady?” ** Not quite, Isabel; but it is more on your ac- count than my own.” ‘I’m grateful for such consideration,” quietly responded Isabel, adding, with a satirical glance, ** For my pleasure perhaps you will condescend to allow the Troubadour to be admitted.” ** Not on any account,” replied Anita, “I could not be guilty of so imprudent a step.” LDP LP LD LD PDO OOO OO le AND A P_P PRP PLL ell el el ll lal el ll ll a tl tl tl tl ttt MURDER. “And therefore I presume,” laughingly sug- gested Isabel, ‘I had better see about his admit- tance myself.” ** No, no,” quickly exclaimed Anita. “Oh! very well, just as you please,” and Isabel very provokingly threw herself on the divan. After a few moment’s pause, oecupied by Anita in demolishing, with curious perseverance, a very beautiful rose-bud, she ventured to say, * And yet, dear Isabel, the sun is so warm in the garden.” ‘© So it is, and Andrea has a most delicate com- plexion,” replied Isabel, starting up and ringing the table bell, a signal for her own maid. “ We must be merciful to the poor stricken youth.” Scarcely had the sweet silver tone of the bell ceased vibrating when Nivetta entered the apart- ment. Niverra, thou perfectest specimen of that distinct species of the human animal, the Spanish confidante, would I had the time and space to chronicle thy various excellencies; thou unap- proachable compound of fidelity, intrigue, shrewd- ness, hypocrisy, and intuitive hatred for all jealous husbands ; but inasmuch as Rossini has immortal- ized the characteristics of thy race very sufficient- ly in the ever-pleasing “ Barber,” my untutored learning may well be excused. “You were astonishingly close, Nivetta,” said Isabel, in a severe tone. * Always was, madame,” very piquantly re- plied the intriguante, “‘ and always intend to be as close as sealing wax.” “Remember, Nivetta, you are but new to this house, and I will have no long ears straining to catch every syllable uttered.” “Law, my lady, my ears are uncommonly short,” replied Nivetta, with an affectation of sim- plicity very artistic, ‘‘and moreover, pair as ever decorated the outside of maid’s head. as discreet a a lady’s own They wouldn’t hear what they ought n’t if I was ever so inclined; it’s quite astonishing how deaf they can be upon occasion.” “I’m glad of it,” said Isabel ; but just catch- ing an imploring look from Anita, she suddenly recollected what she summoned her attendant for, and quietly desired that she would acquaint the musician they would like to hear a specimen of his minstrelsy within the apartment. “So, so,” thought Nivetta, while her little Spanish heart beat high at the prospect of an adventure. This is a part of my duty I like well; it promises excite- ment, pays, and don’t fatigue.” ‘A musician, eh! good. « And now, Anita, I presume you will not re- quire my presence at this interesting interview, but pray remember, that during such sweet mo- ments, time takes a rapid flight ;” so saying, Isabel kissed the burning cheek of her beautiful sister, and passed out of the apartment just as Nivetta ~~ BPO THE UNION MAGAZINE. entered with the simple announcement, “ The mu- | sicians my lady,” on her lips‘ but a very volume of eloquence in her wicked large eyes. Embarrassed by the presence of the maid, who placed herself in an‘attitude to listen to the min- strel’s song, a privilege that, were he a real wan- dering troubadour, she would, of course, have been allowed—both Andrea and Anita stoodin very | | pretty confusion, not daring to lift their eyes | toward each other, while those of Nivetta dived | | } into the secrets of both, with the discrimination of | At last Anita mustered up sufficient courage to stammer out, very faintly and with wonderful effort, “You may retire, Nivetta.” “Yes, my lady, certainly,” promptly replied Nivetta, murmuring to herself as she left the room, ‘* What a blessed invention is a key-hole.” an accomplished chambermaid. And so Andrea and Anita were left alone; and how they employed their leisure can be better im- agined than I can describe it, by all young people, who, knowing and trusting in the truth of each other’s affection, have, in the spring-time of their lives, enjoyed a similar opportunity, dear consider- ate “‘ ma’” having taken her work up stairs. After a few moment’s chat, interesting only to themselves, Anita bethought herself to ask an im- portant question: ‘“* Why, dear Andrea,” said she, with a most thrilling emphasis upon the dear, “why have you ventured here?” “I knew that Senor Basta was away, and could not resist the opportunity of seeing and con- versing with you, were it but for an instant.” * But do you know the risk you run by intrud- ing within this house?” ** Perfectly,” replied Andrea, with lover-like ardor, “that love is nought which will not dare any danger.” An heroic sentiment, abundantly rewarded by an affectionate glance from Anita, as she rather prudently said, ‘* Would it not be as well for you to sing something, just to blind the servants? You know you are only here as a troubadour.” Poor, simple-minded Anita, little knew she of the sharp- sightedness of that most annoying but indispen- sable tribe. However, Andrea needed but little soliciting ; he was a good singer, and seldom had a cold ; so accompanying himself with his guitar— which he played as a Spaniard only can play— he sang the following song of his own individual composing : ’T is sweet to wander by the streamlet’s side And list to its musical trill, As o’er the pebbly bed the riplets glide, And the air with melody fill *T is sweet to listen to the joyous din The spring birds awake through the grove, But the sweetest sounds that the soul drinks in, Are the accents from lips that we love. | ’T is sweet to hear, when summer zephyrs woo A bower of rich orange trees, While odors rare its viewless wings imbue, The sigh of the delicate breeze. But sweeter than the streamlet’s silvery tide, The spring breeze, or voice of the grove, Nay, sweeter far than all those sweets combined, Are the accents from lips that we love. Now these lines had nothing very remarkable to recommend them to the general ear, but all merit is comparative, and we must not blame Anita, if, under the circumstances, she thought them most excellent ; nor be toosevere upon her lov- er, if he flattered himself into asimilar belief. What- ever compliment his lady-love intended to bestow was suddenly cut off by the unceremonious en- trance of Nivetta, who, with a countenance full of business-like anxiety, exclaimed, “I beg pardon, my lady, for interrupting the music, I don’t know if it’s any consequence, but Senor Basta has returned and is coming up the garden.” ** Consequence,” replied Anita, the thought of danger to her lover the first consideration, “ it is of every consequence ; should he see Senor Andrea here, I don’t know what might be the result. Nivetta, you must convey this gentleman out of the house.” ** Meaning the musician, my lady,” provokingly replied Nivetta. “I can’t exactly tell what to do with him. I know my master has a very violent dislike for such handsome guitar-players; but there’s no time for deliberation, I hear the Senor. Go in here, sir musican, until an opportunity occurs for me to let you out.” So saying, she thrust him into an ante-chamber, having just barely had time to do so and retire, hurriedly, with the trembling Anita, when Basta and his intimate friend, Senor Manuel, entered the apartment ; the former proceeded directly to the door of the chamber in which Andrea had shelter- ed himself and locking it, cried, “Have I caged you at last, my redoubtable in- amorato? Now Manuel, now am I deceived—are you now astonished that I should make so deadly a resolve!” ** Still,” replied his friend, “you may be in error ; pause, I implore you, before you proceed upon a determination so fearful.” * Deceived! no, no,” exclaimed Basta, with a malicious scowl. ‘“ Last night I saw—my wife! that ever I should live to name her with such a thrill of hatred. I saw her walking with this same seducer, his arm encircling her waist. I wonder what withheld me from wreaking retribu- tion on the moment—I was determined to have certain proof, I have obtained it, and he dies! You told me that you knew where an easy-con- scienced villain might be found to do the deed— have you seen one?” FRIED OSA Ce Se SY See We 02 od EE: eet Ta eed TIAL od LOVE AND MURDER. 5 OBR nature to yield,” said Manuel, “I have spoken to the assassin.” ‘¢ And will he undertake this?” «“ This or any other work of villany, for a suffi- ~S cient remuneration ; he is a wretch whose trade is blood ; he will be here in about half an hour; but still, I counsel you to delay your purpose.” ‘“ Manuel,” lip and flashing eye, “it is the strongest love which But I am determined—come to my study and let us i ia replied the other, with compressed checked or desecrated, turns to fiercest hate. await this messenger of death—but oh! the stab which lets out his base life is nothing to the soul pang I am doomed to feel from henceforth and for ever.” So saying, and with a look of deadly resolve toward the chamber which contained the devoted Andrea, the jealous Senor proceeded to concoct Ni- vetta, meanwhile, with cat-like step, watched the pair, unconscious of their design, for they had con- the particulars of his vengeance in his study. not be overheard by the prisoner. As soon as they SLO LO LON ONC_NM .OMRNNMNA]MWOaumar'™~ nv ew nae were fairly within the study, and the door closed, ( the vigilant soubrette hastened back to assist An- what was her surprise .to find ( the door fast—she knocked. “Ts that you, Nivetta?” said the lover. “ May >> drea in his escape ; I come forth ? ‘Indeed you may not,” replied Nivetta, “ and for the best of all possible reasons, you cannot, for the door is locked?” “ Locked!” cried Andrea in alarm, as he thought of friend Basta’s violently jealous nature ; ‘*‘ What on earth is to be done?” “You must remain quiet until I find a key.” “Stay, Nivetta, send some one to my brother, Leon—your lady will tell you where to find him— I’m not at all certain but Senor Basta may take it into his jealous head to attempt some mischief.” “T shall find him myself,” answered Nivetta, DPLRLP PLS OS and away she hurried to execute the commission. Inspired alike by a love of adventure and a dislike to the suspicious “ Don,” hastily throwing over her head the indispensable mantilla, she was about to proceed on her important errand when she uttered a pretty little scream, and clasped her hands in the sweetest possible confusion, as she heard a voice more bold than musical, sending, in prolonged echoes through the corridors, the words of the famous ritornella, most popular with the gay youth, smuggler-fishermen, tauromachists, and miscellaneous rowdyism of Lisbon. ‘* Blessed saint Catharine,” she exclaimed, “ it’s my Gil; I told him Senor Jealous-pate would be from home all day, and here he comes as impudent as he’s good-looking, and that’s saying a great deal. I do love him dreadfully, that’s certain ; DAP LPR PLP eel ell lel aa Ll all ll ll Seer a iia NERY versed in whispers, so that their intentions should | | «Yes, my friendship for you forced my better | how I wish he was anything but a butcher, ugh! seen and | and yet I’m sure it’s a very necessary profession, and I know his heart is as tender as the véry lambs the dear soul kills.” Just at that moment, the much-to-be-envied in- dividual made his appearance, dressed, literally, to kill; for he had just escaped from his unromantic but very un-do-without-able profession ; and cer- tainly, as he then looked, could not be taken for the beau ideal of an Adonis. But you should see him on a bull-fight day; not a matader in the ring could show a more brilliant jacket, or closer fitting indispensables, rings, chains, and buttons, dangling and jingling wherever there was a possi- bility of crowding them on. However, such as he was, a jolly, good-natured, exceedingly dirty and sanguineous butcher, the fair Nivetta thought him unsurpassable. He was about to greet her with the usual ardent embrace, accompanied by some extrava- gant sentiment, when she whispered, “Hush, you mustn’t stay, I thought there would be nobody here, but instead of that there’s a whole house full of human combustibles, and there ’s no knowing when we may have an explo- sion.” ** Confound it,” muttered the disappointed suitor, ‘‘and here have I left off killing just to have a chat with you; why what sort of a house is this new one you have got into?” * Well, I must say, Gil, that it’s rather myste- rious.” Now it so happened that Senor Basta had heard the whispering of Gil and Nivetta, and instigated by his jealous feelings, crept cautiously down, and standing close by, heard Gil say. ‘* Very well then, as I’m not wanted, I’m off. I have a calf or two to dispatch.” So so, thought the sagacious don, this is the bravo friend Manuel spoke to; he was confirmed in his suspicions by what followed. ‘‘T wonder,” said Nivetta, “how you can talk so coolly of killing the poor innocents.” ‘‘ Bless your tender heart,” replied Gil, “ it’s nothing when you’re used to it; you don’t mind destroying a colony of spiders if they come across you in the way of business—it ’s all the same—a life ’s only a life you know.” Senor Basta, disgusted by such fearful heart- lessness, advanced sternly, and startled both the speakers, by exclaiming, in a severe tone, “ Si- lence, wretch,” then turning angrily to the shiver- ing Nivetta, he continued, “ Is this ruffian known to you?” Such an epithet applied to her beloved, made Nivetta’s heart rage like a little Vesuvius; yet policy restrained the eruption, and she stammered out a very small “ Yes, sir.” ‘“ And his dreadful trade?” he went on. ( ( ( ‘ ( ) ( ¢ ‘ ? 3 LOLOL OL EDR aay y Oe > Art LB BOP LOLOL elle elle lel lll el ll ll RNG ) THE UNION for) OO Oe a MAGAZINE. “ Yes, sir.” “‘ Away, then,” cried the exasperated Senor, “and never let me see you in this house again.” Nivetta dared not disobey—she cast one hope- ful glance at her lover, who, she was glad to see, stood with head up and eye which looked straight into Senor Basta’s, and returned it flash for flash. ** My fine, handsome, brave Gil,” she said to herself, as she quitted the place, “‘ Let the proud fool be careful how he provokes you.” Indeed she would and could have demolished the don herself, at that identical moment, with her own individual fingers. As soon as they were alone, the Senor thus ad- dressed poor Gil; ‘* Now, butcher,” said he, plac- ing a most disgustful expression on the latter word, * Now, butcher! that is your horrid trade, is it not?” ** Certainly, Senor,” promptly replied Gil, with an expression of quiet humer—he could never be angry long—* Proud to serve you, Senor, in any way.” Heartless fiend, thought Basta, but the better for my purpose. ‘ You set about your sanguineous business with great gusto, my friend,” said he. ** You kill for pleasure, I should think.” * Not exactly, Senor; I kill for food,” replied the other.” “Well then, approach nearer; don’t laugh, it chills me to the soul to see a being like you smile.” * Does it though? how singular, but I can’t help it,” rejoined Gil, with a laugh louder than ever. ‘* 1 have good reason to be merry to-day, for between you and me I have disposed of a couple of carcasses.” “ Sold them?” cried Basta, in accents of horror. “ Exactly,” replied Gil. * Of your own killing? ” * Of my own individual dispatching.” **Cold-blooded ruffian,” muttered the Senor ; * But to business—you know what you came here for to-day?” * Perfectly well,” replied Gil. ‘To do a morsel of trade—to pierce the delicate and susceptible heart of ——.” “Hush, not so loud,” interposed the other. It is enough—let it be done.” ** You may depend on it,” responded our friend with a knowing wink, “ and in my own peculiar way.” “Is that the knife?” inquired Basta, pointing to the instrument of Gil’s profession, which was stuck in his belt, and certainly did look a most formida- ble weapon as he plucked it out with a dexterous flourish. ‘ Yes,” he cried, as he gazed affection- ately on the polished steel, breathing on it to rub Oe fl of, off a symptom of approaching rust. ‘ Toledo never sent out a truer piece of stuff.” Basta involuntarily shuddered, both at the length and vicious look of the blade, and also at the cool indifference with which the fellow spoke of his murderous employment. “It certainly looks ap- palling,” he exclaimed, “ doubtless it has done much execution.” * That it has,” replied Gil, laughing and patting the shining steel familiarly, an action which turned the Senor’s heart into a kind of icicle. ‘ Scores, Senor, have fallen beneath it since it has had the honor to be carried by me.” “ Enough,” cried Basta, thoroughly sickened by such callousness, yet not in the slightest degree relenting of his own cold-blooded determination. ** Now all that remains for me to say,’—and he sunk his voice to a sepulchral whisper, placing his mouth close to Gil’s ear—* is, that’s the cham- ber !” pointing to the door of the room where An- drea was imprisoned. “Tt is!” replied Gil, without the faintest idea what he was driving at. ‘* Ves, and here’s the key!” placing it in Gil’s hand. ‘“ Now be expeditious, and above all things, let us have no noise.” So saying, with a stealthy pace and mysterious look, Senor Basta quitted the room, leaving Gil in a state of perfect bewilder- ment. An indifferent person, to look at him, would suppose ihat he was merely trying to guess at the weight of his knife, as he balanced it up and down in his hand; whereas he was, with all his metaphysical might, endeavoring to unravel the meaning of the Senor’s parting words. At last he gave his forchead a friendly tap. “ That’s it,” said he, “that must be it, and Nivetta didn’t like to tell me; she said it was a mysterious kind of a place ; as sure as life it’s a private mad house, and this chap is one of the in- mates; it’s lucky I didn’t let him have my knife. I’m glad I humored him too—that’s what kept him quiet. They say if you don’t contradict mad folks they won't boil over. Ha, ha, what the deuce was the fellow thinking about, I wonder.” Then Gil imitated the mysterious look and action of Senor Basta, moving toward the door at the same time. «‘ That ’s the chamber, and this is the key,”— but before he could finish his laugh, a female, with a most distracted look rushed towards him, and seizing him by the arm, cried in a fierce tone, “Man of blood, desist !” “Hang me if I didn’t think so,” said Gil. ** Here ’s another of ’em.” It was Isabella who spoke—she continued look- ing imploringly in Gil’s face. “ You know not what a crime you are about to commit !” “Yes, of course,” quietly replied Gil, intent LL : Zink — °e ey nas OSS OOOoOoEaoOoeeeeeeeecee cr rs eee Se eee se eee ee eee eee NN ee al — T] A Da) —S — PPL ee oar esnre_e _5—c ee ee ee ees ee ee ee_rlee NN ll ll ll lll eS eee (er Spi % ——- —— ee ee ON NOC eee OO eee _ll ll eee ee eee eee —— Ns BOATS a il LOVE AND MURDER. eee upon his soothing system, “ By Saint Dominic, there ’s a whole nest of them.” “It’s all a mistake,” fervently cried Isabella. “Well, I’m very glad to hear it,” said Gil, still endeavoring to move toward the door ; but she restrained him, exclaiming at the same time: «‘ Will you not give me that dreadful knife? Oh, suffer me to wrest it from your hands.” «“ No, no,” replied Gil, in increasing consterna- tion, “ my dear good mad—I mean madame,”— I must be gentle, thought he, or I may set her raving—* The fact is,” he insinuated with a bland smile, ** I would give it to you with pleasure, but I’in just about to use it.” This observation, instead of producing the effect She grasped his arm, and with eyes whose terrible intended, brought on a perfect paroxysm. dilation seemed to Gil the very fury of insanity, looking into his very soul, almost screamed out, “You shall not, by all my hopes of happiness you shall not. I am but a woman, yet to prevent so foul a deed I should feel myself endowed as with a giant's strength.” “Oh! earth are the keepers?” groaned Gil, in the perturbation of his heart ; his Hesh began to creep and gather into little hillocks, where on his heart gave two or three cold plunges, he was afraid; so awful a thing is it to be face to face with madness. “It was jealousy,” she cried, “ false, groundless jealousy urged him to take this desperate step.” Gil, intent upon mild measures, briefly respond- ed, “* You’re quite right, madame.” “Ah! let me not be deceived,” she continued, “surely I see commiseration in your eye.” ‘“ Not at all unlikely, my lady,” replied Gil, hoping the attack was about to take a favorable turn. ‘* May I then cherish the hope that you re- lent?” “Certainly, madame, if it will do you the slightest good.” “ Ah, bless you for that word; and yet’ —her eye roving toward the knife in what Gil thought a most singular and suspicious manner as she spoke, —*I cannot feel assured, while you retain that fearful blade.’ She was just about to make a snatch at it. when she started, and in an accent of terror whispered, ‘* Hark! ’tis his footstep.” said Gil. “It is,” she replied ; “here, take this purse.” * No! is it though?” Now Gil had slight conscientious scruples about availing himself of such insane liberality ; however, fearful of irritating her by a refusal, he resolved to pocket both his scruples and the purse. “Let me depend upon you,” she whispered ‘** Keep your promise, and you shall be well rewarded. “I’m very glad of it,” cried Gil, considerably 282 LO with fervor. I dare not remain.” LL LOO LOL LD relieved by her absence. ‘I wonder what she’s mad about—fancies herself an ill-used empress, I suppose. By St. Dominic, I must get away before Oh! protect us! here’s that wild fellow back again.” It was Basta; rushing toward Gil he whispered into his ear, “ Is it done ?” any more of them make their appearance. Gil was puzzled ; however, he had no time to deliberate, so he boldly replied, “ It is.” At that instant the Senor caught sight of Isa- bella’s purse, which Gil was gingerly dandling on his finger. ‘“‘ Ha,” he cried, furiously snatching it, “ her purse, as I live ; another evidence of her guilt.” Now Gil had had it just long enough to be sen- sible of its loss, and ventured to remark, “Come, I say, fair play ; that’s mine.” “ 7 know it is, wretch !” replied the other, with one of those looks Gil did not relish, “ your lawful spoil—you tore it from his prostrate body, did you not?” ** Decidedly I did.” “Then keep it; is he dead?” * Dead? oh, yes, very dead.” Just then Leon, Andrea’s brother, arrived, and overheard Gil’s de- claration. He concealed himself a moment, as Basta cried furiously, “One victim to my just vengeance is immolated, I go to find the other.” Gil cut an involuntary caper, flung the well- filled purse up in the air, and caught it as it | descended. ‘ Not a bad day’s work this,” said he, preparing to make a quick exit; but he was doom- ed to a greater surprise ; for just as he reached the threshold, Leon rushed after, seized him by the throat, and with a powerful jerk flung him to the ground ; and when he did look up, the point of an exceedingly delicate rapier was within an inch of his nose, held by the most furious-looking indivi- dual he had yet seen. ** Blood-thirsty villain,” roared the new-comer, *‘ vile, remorseless wretch ! ” * The saints protect me,” muttered Gil. all over with me now; oh! mercy, mercy.” “It’s ** Mercy! cowardly butcher,” replied his assail- ant, ‘how can you expect mercy, having shown none ?” ‘* How? where? when? what on earth do you mean ?” cried the trembling Gil, frightened out of his prudential resolve to acquiesce in all they might say. ‘* lave you. not murdered him?” cried the other, ‘speak !” and he made a sinister movement of his sword arm. “‘ Stay, stay—bless me, I can’t tell,” said the unfortunate butcher ; “ I’m so bewildered; but I | don’t really think I’ve murdered anybody.” ‘* Liar,” roared the madman, and the sword caine half an inch nearer. PPL LOLOL | | : | | ! K DaeeY a ii THE UNION FL AS OOS eee MAGAZINE. The blessed saints, that ’s because I contradicted him, thought Gil, as he hastened to add, “That is to say, nobody in particular.” *‘ Foul, prevaricating vaitiff, did I not overhear you tell Senor Basta you had slain my brother ?” * Your brother! was it your brother?” mildly inquired Gil, alive to the necessity of acquiescence, “T’m really very sorry ——” «« Peace, heartless ruffian, and prepare to die,” cried the other; come, say a quick prayer, for as- suredly as strength is in this arm, so surely shall you follow your victim.” ‘‘ Murder, murder, keepers, where are you?” screamed out Gil, in the intensity of his agony. Fortunately, Senor Basta hearing the dismal shout, arrived just in time to prevent Leon from gauging the diameter of Gil’s corporation ; knocking away Leon’s sword he said, ‘How now, young sir, would you tempt your villain brother’s fate?” * He was no villain,” fiercely retorted Leon. ** Holy St. Dominic,” prayed Gil, * put it into their hearts to kill each other! what a dreadful aap. for the keepers to be out of the way!” *T is thou art the villain,” Leon continued, “and thy unjust suspicions have urged thee on to foul murder; my brother was innocent.” “No, no,” replied Basta, “I could not be de- ceived ; I saw them with my own eyes; I saw them enfolded in each other’s arms.” “Tis false; false as thine own false heart which engendered such a thought,” cried Leon, | S — ’ | what has become of the keepers?” while Gil, who, during the conversation, had man- aged to crawl towards the corner of the corridor, intent upon seizing the earliest opportunity to escape, muttered to himself, “Oh, how I hope they'll fight ; ha, this door, I wonder where it leads to?” He was soon enlightened ; for as he was about to investigate, he heard a new voice exclaim from the other side, ‘* Where is he—where is the assassin of my love?” Holy St. From one to another he dodged about in a vain endeavor to escape. Leon and Basta met him with their rapiers, and Anita, with extended fingers, the fury of ten tigresses flaming from her eyes. ** Mercy, mercy,” he cried, ‘ good lunatics, give me a moment or two for ghostly preparation. Oh! ‘‘ Hold no longer parley with the assassin,” ex- claimed Leon, “ but let us each kill our share of him——shall we not?” The circle closed round the devoted butcher, who, though he continued to expostulate as well as he could, certainly expected nothing but to finish his earthly account very suddenly. How- ever, he was doomed to another disappointment ; for just as the two swords and ten fingers were ap- | proaching his throat, he heard still another voice utter with powerful accent, the emphatic and to him very satisfactory monosyllable, No! at which, to Gil’s increasing astonishment, his three assail- ants, with a simultaneous exclamation of surprise, rushed toward the door; it was unlocked, and a young gentleman sprang forth, and was alternate- ly embraced by all round ; and before Gil had time to recover from his wonder, the sedate Senor had hugged him also like a brother; then the others embraced him in like manner, not even excepting the young lady, until the strange and rapid mix- ture of events produced a sort of chaos in Gil’s brain, and he began seriously to think he must have been mad himself for some considerable length of time. ‘‘ Preserver of my honor,” cried Basta, shaking him by the hand. 